Best Group Poems
Our Little Group
by Bob (Robert) Moore © 2016
I love to read the poetry,
the verse, the rhyme, the symmetry
it’s there for all the world to see,
I love to read the poetry
We started up a group you know,
so we could let these words just flow
back and forwards, to and fro,
we started up a group you know
We encourage each other to try and write,
words that rhyme, and some that might
which come to us by day or night,
we encourage each other to try and write
There’s John and Pam and Williams keen,
Dennis, Mary, Louisa, Irene
Sheila, Keven and Rik have been,
to tell verse of things they’ve done and seen
With Gareth, John Holmes, William posts for him,
Pauline, Angie, and Bob are in
the group we started as a bit of fun,
but we all enjoy what we have done
Many other cheer us on,
“nice one Bill”, “I enjoyed that John”
“I remember”, and “we used to do that,
we see it in rhyme, and it brings it all back
If I’ve forgotten anyone who’s posted,
I really hope, I don’t get roasted
and to all those who, have cheered us on,
we’re glad you enjoyed our bit of fun.
poetrysoup must finely flourish
This is my most sincere wish
Her difficulties give me anguish
She helps swim every poet-fish
By giving the site my best write
I must supply minds bright light
The site provides enough delight
I must take her to a great height
For a long time the site never opened
I was worried as to what happened
My agonies due to this deepened
No help at all I could usefully send
A site which helps all noble poets
By giving to their emotions outlets
Getting troubles gives great regrets
As all poets got caught in worry-nets
I felt like a sad fish out of water
When the site I could not enter
Due to defect in my brain-computer
Membership problems I did encounter
The site gave kindly clarification
By intimating me the rectification
Proper application of correction
Ended in membership-completion
I felt like hugging my mother
And being kissed by my father
Kindly embraced by my brother
My mind faced nice weather
A site where poets play
And their skill they display
Their ideas they convey
poetrysoup shows a way
Really her presence is a gift
As she gives to emotions lift
If her happiness suffers theft
In the lurch we poets are left
May God bless dear poetrysoup
As she has a lovely poets' group
Using pen we poets form a troop
This Godly site, none can dupe.
SEARCH MY NAME IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO
Ive just joined a group called poetry soup
A troop of writers , Ney intellectual fighters
They lay themselves bare , Pray you care
To take the time , read there rhyme
and ask them the question
What inspired there direction
Enquire if poetry has salvaged there soul
or has it just papered over the hole
Because we've all been tainted
had our integrity painted
In a light that displeased us
Thankfully humility cleared us
To have another go
Get on with the Show
For the actors need words
Otherwise they cannot be heard
Laura my friend from the past
Has reappeared after ten long years
She was my first real friend
Here on the Soup and never forgotten
I was a little apprehensive
About joining coz of my inexperience
But Laura was one of the first
To put my old heart at ease
Inviting me in with wide open arms
Making me feel totally at ease
So for as long as Laura is back with us
Her heart will be part of this loving group
Of really talented folks
To you dear Laura thanks a bunch!
When put into groups I know that I never have to worry or step up because there is always an A1.
Arrogant One reaches for the group paper
And the one blue marker, because
She or he knows that no one can do anything as well as she or he can.
It is supposed to be a collaborative effort,
But Arrogant One does not understand this.
I count on this, sit back and wait. I do not have to contribute at all.
But I can try.
There are three of us at the table today.
Arrogant One has made the grab.
Shy One and I sit back and smile at each other; I feel relief.
Arrogant One is yelling out our collaborative answers as she writes them down,
Not looking up,
Not waiting for
Any response from
Shy One or me.
We both make a suggestion. The writing does not slow down or stop.
Arrogant One does not hear us; she is in her own Arrogant World.
I say Shy One’s Answer, and Shy One says my answer.
She looks up, pauses, changes our answers slightly, so they will be better.
I am amused that she has misspelled three, no wait, seven words.
It is thrilling to me that Arrogant One cannot spell. Shy One looks at me and we give each other a silent High five.
When it comes time to share “our” collaborative answers, Arrogant One gets up, loudly and proudly, taking her poster to the front of the room to share with the rest of the educators. Her heels are clicking, and she is all that, and glad of it.
There are titters of laughter.
Shy One and I give each other a loud, smacking victorious High Five as Arrogant One glares at the masses, wondering what is wrong with them.
hey God!
look at this mess
we have down here,
can you believe it?
you told us to
to create a better world
and boy,
have we blown it
can you forgive us
and help us try again
the only thing is, God,
people are angry with hard hearts
touch everyone's heart God
help us find peace
remind us love is easier than hate
what the world needs is a group hug
submitted on June 24, 2020 for contest OPINION sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN
One day, Brad felt overwhelmingly sad
The next day Brad was raging mad
Following this day, Brad was feeling glad
This was the best day that Brad had had
One day, Suzy had been crying all day long
The next day Suzy was cheerily singing a song
Following this day, Suzy wasn't feeling so strong
Suzy was feeling like she didn't belong
One day, Peter woke up feeling quite flat
The next day Peter happily met Brad for a chat
Following this day, Peter was worried about his cat
His cat that day had been bitten by a rat
One day, Paige's mind was all over the place
The next day, Paige had a smile upon her face
Following this day, Paige wasn't feeling quite as ace
All Paige wanted was to have her own space
Whether you're Paige, Peter, Suzy or Brad
and whether you're sad, happy worried or mad
The emotional whiplash you get isn't really all that bad
because it means you're still living, even if it's just a tad
My name is Paige and I write poetry when feeling emotion
It's like taking medicine when sick, or applying a cream or lotion
Sometimes I write in order to avoid conflict or commotion
Writing poetry helps me avoid a mental health implosion
I hope these words on some level do resonate with you
I write from the heart and these feelings I describe are true
I hope you find courage to write when you're feeling blue
because you'll feel better afterwards, as it really helps me too
Sending love from Paige to all of you in Poetry Soup
I Value the support from this amazing community group
Our 'Espirit-de-corps' has me letting out a whoop
It's a lifeline to cling to, a lifebuoy, a hoop
'Espirit-de-corps' - Definition: the common spirit existing in the members of a group and inspiring enthusiasm, devotion, and strong regard for the honour of the group.
Joining a tour you meet people
Who may not be like you at all –
Politically, age-wise and maybe
With views that repel or appall.
Religion’s another divider
As well as the places you live
And quickly, you’ll learn who’s not social
Or those who have much they can give.
But mostly, the group comes together,
Conversing and laughing despite
All the differences that are apparent
To all from the very first night.
The young and the old, the Christians and Jews,
The urban and rural-type folk
Connect as they share in their journey,
Enough to enjoy the same joke.
Of course, the director’s a factor,
Uniting his charges until
There’s sufficient concern for each other
That some friendships may form (and they will).
At the end, though, with hugs and “Safe travels!”
The tour group, at last, must disperse,
Their experience richer for meeting
Fellow travelers truly diverse.
Hotel stays when we
all must go; broken phone but
the Ice is cold!
AUTUMN LEAVES-GROUP OF TEN COLLEGE MATES
==============
Summer ends, Autumn comes,
Days become shorter and shorter.
The green in the leaves fades away,
And red and orange take its place.
"Autumn Leaves" is a group of ten leaves,
Sprouted at Peradeniya fifty five years back.
Started meeting once a month with pot luck,
Each leaf gets a chance to host the others.
Though past the biblical age for humans,
"Autumn Leaves" function well and ably;
Readings, games,chats enliven our sessions,
"Autumn Leaves" enjoy their meetings.
Nature reflects our diminishment;
Leaves and flowers fall away,
And clouds move like our illusions,
Rivers become frozen like our lives.
Autumn passes, Winter enters,
One's remembrance , one's self-esteem.
Autumn leaves may wither away,
But it's memory and glory will always stay.
Midgeted paws gently experiment
with the silken whiskers of their maternal dynamo
Dabbling with the conscious but succumbing
softly to the confetti of uninhibited dreams
Rejoicing in a triangle of togetherness
Basking in the periwinkles of space and time
Under a backdrop of light and optimism
Enjoying the nuances of peace and temperance
Their unified thoughts epitomize one harmony
Each sending a message, don't ever leave me.
Hey everyone it’s me again
thanks for having me present
I’ll do my best not to offend
as I share and truthfully admit
I get dumb when I don't attend
can’t get past simple words like….
“happy” and “sad” “now” and “then”
Just the other day I went mainstream
and for an hour of my precious time
got stuck on an amputated cat meme
slowly my brain cells diminished
but my mind, I continued to blaspheme
I got sucked in the whirling vortex….
and it erased my poetic theme
It will take me some time to rebuild
the wit and the strength and flow
like an Olympians dream unfulfilled
A tireless poet will be apropos
lucky for me exists a poet’s guild
where gatherings delight and wander….
through places that haven’t been tilled
It’s good to be back here with you
I thought I could handle the ride
but trivial stupidity is not taboo
outside of this mind of mine
So I research a transcendent haiku
that you obviously wrote for me….
and remember every awesome breakthrough!!
THANKS GUYS!!!
--4/12/2017--
It's beautiful, the whole dam business, the circle,
the new and distant friends, the words formed,
which blow away; like Zeek and Ike and Calloway;
and the dark sky, rests; and I find a jilted tree, not
far from the buzz, and the busy blue-breezed, hussy;
the chicken on the step, persisting its gibberish neck;
but, heavy in eye, I melt into the lavatory; with its
pirouetting flies, and dark satanic skies, of cracked
vermillion tiles; nonetheless; this is my life; thank
you for the friends, the words, and my wonderful wife;
the sweet afternoon-wind kisses, my old locks, and spent
near-misses; and the quality, rhyming-time ; and I can’t
disguise my reprise, my dread-locked naked smile, and
goatee-spilling beard, latching on to the fertile, busy-breeze,
and its warm fertile ease; but despite all this; I’ll wait; I’ll wait
for the borrowed lies, the perky anchor’s, version of the news;
her treated, trusty lemon skies. I'll wait.
A TOUCH OF NOSTALGIA (Fitton Hill Story Group)
When we were little we would all gather our favorite toys – a fireman and ladder, an aircraft carrier and RAF plane, a wooden top and whip, with marbles in the rain.
We’d make our own toys, from shoeboxes and planks, houses and go-carts – whatever we could chance.
The best toys we ever saw were wooden bricks and Meccano, a walking, talking singing doll, Tin Can Alley and Lego. We’d peer at the train-set through the window of the toyshop with a slot outside where your coin would drop.
Our favorite games with friends we’d play. Snakes and ladders, hopscotch, darts on a rainy day, in the house and on the street. Through army games we’d make believe - “Gather the troops, prepare to battle bring your sticks, perfect your Sten Gun rattle!”
A CHRISTMAS WISH
To all my dear friends on poetry soup,
I treasure the moment I joined the group,
I have made friends across the globe,
With your inspiration have widened my scope,
Christmas blessings to all, a delightful troop!