Best Inexperienced Poems
Tonight is not like other nights
Tonight I could paint a moonlight
with the smudged ink of my tears
No its not the inexperienced arms of death
which are longing to embrace my breath
that fill this soul with pain and fear
Nor is it the breeze of thousand needles
'neath the soft glow of my skin ,
What scares me most is...
Not being here in a twenty years or so
to tread love's kiss upon my daughter's cheek
Feel my fingers running through her hair
Listen to the sweet sound of her laughter
Make a wish under the unnoticed starry stars
and watch her dance beneath a repetitive boring sky.
What scares me most is...
Not being here in a twenty years or so
To let the crimson of my lips
bleed its rose close to your pillow
and its fragrance 'pon your bed
Its not being here to hold your blemished hands
and say to you all words still left unsaid
What scares me most is...
That in a twenty years or so
You will be here , still hating candles,all alone,
Its missing the chance, to share those words that don't make sense
yet mean that I have loved you all along.
In a twenty years or so ...In a twenty years or so
Will the ones I hold so dear
still find a way to know ?
Kiss me passionately
Kiss with untetherd lips
Lips that are ripe
Lips that long to know everything
Everything waits for it's time
Everything has possibilities
Possibilities beyond limitations
Possibilities are laying in wait
Wait for me to come to you
Wait for my inexperienced touch
Touch me till you feel my longing
Touch the depth of your own wanting
Wanting and needing
Wanting that hurts
Hurts with a burning pleasure
Hurts with an ancient desire
Desire beyond our understanding
Desire that will not be contained
Contained you have been forced to be
Contained within your fathers image of innocence
Innocence must lead to mutual pleasure
Innocence is the doorway to your awakening
Awakening your true essence
Awakening the power of your being
Being more
Being a true force of your own nature
Nature and nurture
Nature will give way to trancendence
Trancendence to womanhood
Trancendence to your power
Power resides within your spirit
Power caresses your being
Being free to explore
Being aware of the moments
Moments that you will cherish
Moments shared with me
Me who wishes to know you
Me who has waited
Waited for you to be ready
Waited for our wedding day
Day after day imagining
Day and night you are part of my dreams
Dreams do come true
Dreams offer hope
Hope permeates our being
Hope that we will have forever
Forever can be felt in a moment
Forever pulses within your veins
Veins that carry the blood of our children
Moment by moment witness our becoming
For Justin Bordner's innocence contest.
Poetrysoup, to me is just like a joint family.
How by a common bond, here we are strung together!
Though sailing in different currents and anchored in remote ports,
Distance among us has never been a hitch or a tether.
Here we enjoy a warm and genial camaraderie.
Often I feel my credit far exceeds my debit,
And am weighed down by a heavy sense of debt.
I wonder if I will ever be able to repay a small bit.
Before I am stamped an insolvent the rest of my life,
Let me strive to do some little good while I can.
Like a melting candle, let me bring some glow,
Before I grow weary and time runs out of my span.
Sometimes I feel I am an insidious bed bug,
Growing bigger and fatter on others' blood.
Here when I registered as an artless novice,
I was as inane and inexperienced as a kid.
As a kite with a piece of broken string,
I floated up hither and thither in the skies in vain.
You gave me direction, guidance and support.
I owe to each one of you for all that I could attain.
Your relentless encouragement helps me aim for heights,
Your heartfelt blessings give me loads of happiness.
Your poems open before me new avenues of thought.
Your gracious company creates for me a new ambience.
Before my eyes, a hundred smiling faces appear in a row.
Some stand out as beacons of radiant light.
With words of encouragement, they vanquish all my doubts,
Revitalizing my lackluster spirit and leaving it shimmering bright.
Through this forum, we share our inmost thoughts,
How close we feel though never been together.
Many have left the scene leaving trails of footprints,
And many join fresh to continue the endeavor.
Irrespective of creed, we are here at art’s sacred shrine.
‘Soupers’ we are called and we breathe the scented pride.
We stand tall among many others of our species.
Let us proclaim aloud our fraternity worldwide!
Being Young
What is "young"......do what you want
regardless of what others think .....
Young....."wise", inexperienced and a lot to learn
Not sure or absolutely certain
No duties and no considerations to take,
just think of the day
Free as a bird, spread their wings and fly where you want
Flower Power
Make Love Not War
Peace & Love
Spending the day with good friends, sleeping under the stars
Not sure or absolutely certain
Today`s young people are not so simple,
there are liabilities - they have to go to schools
to keep up with modern society
School, work, homework and have time to social gatherings
They are not free as a birds, they can not fly where they want
Flower Power
Make Love Not War
Peace & Love
For those who are young at age
Being young, young in body and soul
It`s never too late.....Fly Where You Want.....Fly...
Have a wonderful day
Flower Power
Make Love Not War
Peace & Love
24. June 2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
When metaphors play 'hide and seek,'
my shield is a veil nurturing premature petals.
Yet there are some words that become poems,
to help those who care to read
to interpret the alchemist mystery,
personifying personal alliterative angst.
The heart ponders...
What will abandon me first,
my trusted muse? Who reveals my truth
or my wallflower soul, which prevents
butterfly breaths - breathing their last sigh?
What am I,
but a pomegranate pebble,
oppressed by stones -
in a man's world, feeling like a boy.
Once, I planted two seeds with ultimate care,
but they no longer bloom for my atonement.
Yet, I still care for them from a distance,
soaking their roots with drops of blood.
Once, I found love,
so I formed into a bridge,
protecting her from raging torrents,
but I could not live up to expectations,
as turbulent waves crashed against my chest.
Now I'm crumbling.
Sometimes, I'm left alone upon an unknown path,
with only cloudy horizons above - but I keep wandering.
Hoping to be found.
Slowly, I lose a part of me,
but I'm inexperienced in
trying to be who you want me to be.
I'm tired from being devalued.
Maybe, I'm worthless,
simply useless, some what careless,
so throw your spears -
I no longer feel.
I won't tell.
I'll remain silent,
but my poetry will forever echo.
Simple Musing
An example for my current contest.
like flowers
in a zephyr of spring
she danced
in love's blossoms
she loved him
as much as any
inexperienced lover could
with all of her heart
she'd even die for him
oh how she giggled
...teasing about a text
from an ex lover
in a cute little way
inquisitively waiting
for his response
hoping his love was true
as any young lover would
...she knew how she felt
she would die for him
she watched
as his eyes grew
not amorously
as she expected
but anomalously
to the point of rage
she feared his touch
his hands seemed less tender
less loving than before
his eyes
more piercing
than she recalled
she watched
as he became enraged
someone she hated
she said she'd die for him
she didn't mean it
literally
...she died by him instead
2018 - nothing new here
He sits
slumped in his corner
weary, battered, bruised,
but not beaten.
He has survived,
studied this craft,
this art of living,
these cycles of change.
He has tasted the acrid,
bitter sting of defeat,
soft warmth
of victory’s vanity,
both fleeting plateaus.
He sees
through puffy eyes
another adversary
youthful, inexperienced,
unblemished by struggle.
He taps gloves,
nods to this new opponent,
knows that the object
is not to defeat him,
but to teach him,
that victory is a feeble friend,
defeat a melancholy mistress.
The bell will ring,
the ball will fall
the crowd will roar
the dance begin anew.
John G. Lawless
©12/29/2017
The children are our future
Always relate to the truth
An inexperienced and true heart
Asks questions and requires an answer
They deserve your love and respect
We must create human values
First give them roots and later wings
~ Listen, believe and learn ~
28.08.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
The Sowing
Upon the wind feasted hillside
The jagged edges of used rocks swell
With the fatless skin of babes and wenches
Below a field of blood, no less a Flanders Field
A continuous swell of rape roll like waves
In the pallid squalor of leaking huts wooden tales tell
The scars ironed in the backs and inner thighs
The voices crying with no listening ear
Blood shines bright in moon's glow sons birth upon the fields
For eons it seems men stack rape like barley and wheat
Small ones soft ones and inexperienced virgins too
Daughters bled away dignity men their respect
Born work and ravished in the fields
Where is their medal of bravery
Today the summer sun washes over the fields
Each ray eclipses the dark memories of sin
As the sons and daughters rise
This poem was written for Joann Grisetti's Copycat contest through inspiration of Debbie Guzzi's The Sowing, one of the Greatest writers here on the Soup
Joyful tears gently ran down your cheeks
as we are the same
Born unto a world I did not know
You being the one to hold me up still
You held me close, bringing hearts to meet
Oh, what a gentle greeting this was
feeling the love and tenderness you show to me
from inexperienced hands knowing exactly what instinct provides.
A more extensive love I cannot feel
for the most precious jewel you are to me.
Tremendous heart you show to me
the beauty of what life can be.
You brought me up to being me.
Now proud, daughter to you.
A greater love can not exist
as only love itself could love you more.
Priceless to me, most worthy you are
Most important beneath the stars
No more;
worries, struggles and work,
for now I fill these shoes of thanks.
Tears rising from all that you've been to me.
Oh, the joys you have brought to life.
I love you more dear mother,
than these words could ever portray.
Form:
Call me Freedom,
For that is my name,
Untamable, wild,
Not bound by walls or bars
Call me Solitude,
For that is my name,
Quiet, serene,
Comfortable in myself and me
Call me Friend,
For that is my name,
Loyal, trusting,
A shoulder for you to cry on
Call me Scholar,
For that is my name,
Studious, hard working,
Trying to reach the stars
Call me Daughter,
For that is my name,
Respectful, responsible,
You don't have to tell me twice
Call me Philosopher,
For that is my name,
Free-thinking, nonconformist
I reside outside the box
Call me Damaged,
For that is my name,
Broken, beaten,
But I still walk on my own two feet
Call me Artist,
For that is my name,
Creative, unique,
A blank paper is all I need
Call me Child,
For that is my name,
Young, inexperienced,
The world a dangerous place
Call me Warrior,
For that is my name,
Strong, unrelenting,
Limits are no match for my will
Call me Anything,
Call me Everything,
I am Light Divine
I'm writing this poem in the last days of 2018. The government of the United States is shut down in a fight over the building of a border wall. I am reminded of another border wall that was erected during my lifetime.
In 1961, East Germany built a wall
Of concrete, barbed wire, and steel
Ninety-six miles around East Berlin
At the cost of a bit less than four million dollars
And a bit more than 200 lives.
Intended to stem the flood of East Germans
Seeking freedom to prosper in the West.
A young and inexperienced President Kennedy
Didn't comprehend why East Germany
Needed a concrete wall
When it already had
An Iron Curtain.
In 1989 the Berlin wall was torn down in a frenzy
Of sledge hammers and bulldozers.
Only remnants of it now remain - mostly in museums.
East Germans celebrated and rebuilt their lives.
The reunited Germany flourished
And joined other nations in a united European future.
Why do we think that our wall will have a different legacy?
Opening the door to Pandora’s box where chaos descends
As the wickedness of the locusts descends upon this world
giving birth unto passions that have no heavenly equity
Craftily-constructed plausibility draws away the inexperienced mind
held captive within the wounds of prejudice that are licked by a splintered tongue
while our Lord patiently awaits with outstretched loving arms pierced deeply
Vain genealogies born of arrogance in an allure to the simple minded
unable to distinguish evil falsehoods from truth they stumble on nevertheless
brass mixed with sliver shines falsely bright to the deceiver and deceived
Error in judgement their blasphemous and impious opinions spread venomously
In an allure of reality where more true than then truth itself beckons mendaciously
souls of Our Savior colourless in creation for the divinity of heaven is not of this earth
Almighty transparency transcends in all earthly traits eclipsing a complete deceit
His Excellency most sublime radiant Gem gleams of eternity for all mankind
Whom when asked gives the Precious gift of His Blood through Grace unconditionally
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and liam mc daid
The risks to most were far too high
Much too much daily effort needed.
As for the course itself, a death trap
particularly for anyone too inexperienced.
Each fence had to be riden correctly
otherwise the too wide turn catches you out.
Leaving you many yards behind some race on,
The weak pull up their race is done.
The field now halved leaves more room
and some foolhardy people go for the gaps
to find themselves brought down hard
they had over jumped and paid the penalty.
The remaining few were far apart
yet most soldiered on hungering
for the prize, the acclaim and title
Until next year they sit at the top.
"The heart is forever inexperienced"
It has made me play the fool many times.
I try and I try to understand it.
Yet it leaves me pondering all the whys.
Why does it continue to be broken?
Nothing is ever quite as it seems.
I do my best to keep my heart open.
Yet in pain I listen as it screams!
Why don't I see when trouble is coming?
It seems to flow towards me like a stream
"The heart is forever inexperienced"
In the end it is the vessel of my dreams.
Write with your Heart Contest.
Sponsored by Julie-Michelle