Get Your Premium Membership

Best Information Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Information poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of information poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Information poems, articles about Information poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Information poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

View all new Information Poems

The Best Information Poems

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.


In search of the human mind

Different thoughts crossed my mind,
a few conclusions I could not find
The human mind has no stop!
Receiving input, danger, before I blow my top

Sometimes the light clicks
I think I figured out the problem
It's at the tip of my mind ;-)
Sorry, my brain cells did it again, 
Ran out of THINK!
When it comes to love, I'm brain dead!
This is me talking to my brain,
"Are you just being lazy, you fell too quick?"
A game in a maze inside my head!
Give me some help, or what use are you 
Open the way only you can unlock the door.
Unfold my future, stop hiding the key
How about it mind?
Do you want me to put you back on pills?
Stand back brain, while I explain your job.

The Human mind is not easy to read like a book
However, some are cruel limiting judgment, with one look
The mind plays tricks when too much information is perceived
The mind is related to the heart, sending signals the wrong way
The mind works when the body's asleep
(I call it a dream, I hope you don't mind I put it there!)
The mind creates beauty,  wonders of the world
The mind is a soft whisper, a secret, my conscious ---I Swear
The mind is devious, tricky can outsmart like a fox
The mind is a beautiful thing to waste in a box
The mind can journey, without leaving its nest
The mind is knowledge, many fail to explore
The mind is a Captain, traveling far and beyond
The mind is like a paint brush, colorful art
The mind is a creature who hides in a cave
The mind is like pain, don't stop in its way
The mind is like a mime who does not talk at all
The mind is fragile, don't use it like a sponge
The mind is like a pair of shoes,
without the mind we're bare

The bottom line is,  the mind is a mystery!
Don't mind me, I lost my mind, years ago :):):)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Tale of Miss Jenny Prime

Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood spell,
but her fetish just grew and made her parents’ life hell.

When Miss Prime was a baby, still sporting a bib,
each night she was cuddled, then placed in a crib
by her doting young parents, who thought it quite funny
to give her a pet name, “Sleep tight Hunny Bunny.”

And that was the start of poor Jenny’s plight,
forced to listen to vowel chimes night after night.
Before long she was making up rhymes for herself,
all her un-rhyming toys were just left on the shelf.

Even quenching her thirst could cause quite a stink,
no O.J for Jenny, her drink had to be pink.
They bought her some shoes, red, shiny and new,
“I’ve told you, I’m not wearing a shoe that’s not blue”

She demanded a dog so they went to the pound,
she picked the fattest one there, just to have a round hound.
Her bed had to be red, her jeans had to be green,
and a fish dish for dinner or she’d cause a right scene.

Stamping her feet she cried “I should be Jenna,
and for pocket money, I should be getting a tenner”
Each Friday brought tantrums, as she hardly had any,
reluctantly taking just a penny for Jenny.

Her increase in years simply brought more despair,
she bleached ebony locks for she needed fair hair.
The colours of clothes always caused her to cry,
so to get round the problem she learned to tie-dye.

Now I know it will come as some sort of surprise,
but Jenny had caught a young gentleman’s eyes.
He knew things would be tough, but he’d give it a try
so, with posies of roses, he dared to drop by.

The roses were great and he was kinda cute,
he’d even gone to the trouble of tie-dying his suit.
He was called Jack Kilkenny, his name did not rhyme,
so she told him to leave and stop wasting her time.

But Jack was his nickname, his real name was Lenny.
Alas, this information was not known to Jenny.
He was perfect for her, a match better than any,
for if they’d wed they’d be Lenny and Jenny Kilkenny.

Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

There is an elephant in the room

The big headlines cause sensation,
Media’s chosen information.
Manipulative, they entomb
the big elephant in the room.

Stress is put on the suggestive
keeping tongue and the mind active.
They sweep aside with furtive broom
the big elephant in the room.

Gain is high on the agenda
grabbing votes in referenda.
They hide, on purpose, I presume
the big elephant in the room.

Many topics are selective;
they are made to look attractive.
Who dares to tickle with a plume
the big elephant in the room?

A Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains, each containing a repeating line at the end of each stanza. Each line within the poem consists of eight syllables. There is no limit to the amount of stanzas a Kyrielle may have, but three is considered the accepted minimum. Some popular rhyming schemes for a Kyrielle are: aabB, ccbB, ddbB, with B being the repeated line, or abaB, cbcB, dbdB.
This form is a pleasure to use because of its rhyming scheme and the strong pivotal line on which the whole poem rotates.
Premiere Contest No. 13
Sponsor: Skat A  (2016)
Contest: Poetry Writing #1
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 1st
15th December 2015

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Truth About Truth -

Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests, 
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,

Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,

an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,

He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Celebarating The Adventure Of Advent: A collaboration with Kai Michael Neumann

Universal elegy grieves and yet embraces shifts of paradigm
New beginnings consciousness initiates comprehends and thus proceeds from
Illusion’s delusion collusions misconceptions in the irritating
Vortex whirlpool immanent void of false containment

Enlightenment modern postmodern retro visionary futuristic aspirations
Resound in dialectical rebirth rejuvenation germinate constructive 
Sense meaning reflect serenity’s tentative confidence that the
Agony of climate change greed warfare ignorance destructive apathy
Liberates fusion confusion necessitates Aquarian communication of

Antagonism’s polar opposites contradictions complements

Cycles spheres of influence of grave repression gravitate
Revolve resolve with pushing pulling moons in metaphorical
Orbital mental psychological initiation shape incidences
Synchronicities collateral communal reason feeling responsibility

Transformation of the global madness inhumanity conjoins
Idealism and the darker side’s fallacies of fabrication

Conspiracy of muted spirit silence violation fade away transform to novel script

Communication courses discourses concur in co-operation
Obvious obscurity in the blip of human race’s evolution delimits 
Limitations iron cages hopes for new time place of reason beyond
Laissez-faire and hippie psychedelic stream of consciousness afar from
Anarchy self-righteous slavery rebellion mindlessness

Big oppressive bangs big brother’s obliterating over-information with
Onslaught of technology fail and falter when simplicity and esoteric
Rationale comprise enhance encompass the necessary world view shifts

Ascent and ever changing climax revitalizes humanness thus gifts
Truth deriving comprehension from ‘objective’ communal subjectivity with
Intuition insight inclination outside from the rigid boxed conformity

Order may be found again in the chaos of our time of misrepresented bedlam
New Age Aquarius delivers acts upon fresh constellation contemplates the Universe 

Celebrating the adventure of Advent this one is written very uniquely. 
During this transition Oh, the ubiquity of perception, reception most gratefully
Each new day begins with one’s first thought, amazingly
Though, this thought did not require any forethought, excitingly,
I thought, what if I thought in forethought, demandingly
Boldly I choose, a path of understanding.  Then Daringly,

Choosing to forgive myself, then choosing to forgive everyone else.  I gratefully
wished upon distant star and my cry did travel far.  Vega, amazingly
did answer my call, in a dream from My whispering old cemetery scene . Excitingly
 I dashed out of my bed, outside looked to sky, then cried Eternal welcome to Aquarius demandingly.
The Joy of this revelation, thought and manifestation determining one’s destination. So, daringly
I choose to be enlightened by the universal code, which is downloaded to each individual uniquely.

Travel I have far and wide, and gone I have, from high to low. Amazingly
though, I realize know, that I had always been seeking to know.  Excitingly
turning each new page, certain and determined to be my own sage. Daringly
I vied, nothing would make me swallow my pride.  Demandingly
I had thought,  When we get there that all would play fair.  Thought I did, uniquely
as most should do.  Now, A little Alliteration to say we too are gratefully

The stranger within me does no longer be because know I see. Life does have excitingly
creative individual versatility. Change it does for you, whom call upon it consistent and demandingly.
Remaining keenly observant in search for knowledge and do so daringly.
Questioning what dares seem query logic and reason itself. While never failing to truly uniquely 
understand another for having their own uniqueness  and being grateful
for be blessed with this, understanding of knowing each individual creation amazingly.

Target destination is fixed after course has been made demandingly.
Each individual soul being has chosen this mission daringly. 
Having arrived in this Third dimensional reality to uniquely 
instruct in the revolution of Love is a four letter word and do so very thankfully and gratefully
to each and every soul of light that exists. Uplifted into the light I call out amazingly.
 Higher Power, The all High and Universal Father of All, whom is the one that is truly exciting.

Inviting all He does whom choosing a star path daringly.
His message has been sent to each and every one of you uniquely 
in its own way. We should all give blessing and thanks, while being gratefully
for each and every new amazingly
fantastic and an Emphasis on an excitingly
creative Acrostic man day. After being both commanding humbly and so, demandingly.
Who is excitingly and amazingly, demandingly and 
daringly to be uniquely and gratefully Different? 

Copyright © Steven Henderson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Hunger of Mind

This agony inside the serene mansion of my soul
This flame of desire burning inside my heart
This insatiable craving to unwind the destiny’s goal
This anguish unleashed by my passion’s dart

Encircles my whole being with dreams profound
To scale the skies of glorious imagination
And capture the secrets of words and the ecstasy of sound
Each cajoling, coaxing and tormenting in succession

The horizon of thoughts and the glow of enlightenment
Free of the horrid darkness of despair and desolation
To balance my feelings, my beliefs, my judgment
And discover the ocean of knowledge and information

To fathom and access the unexplored horizon of wisdom
The aura of knowledge dazzling the eyes with exotic shine
The gems and jewels of virtues glittering in the mind's kingdom
To have the intuitive experience of the divine. 

Copyright © Mohammad Yamin | Year Posted 2008

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Run Run As Fast As You Can - 'Memories 5'

Memories Episode 5 … Continued from 'Deception' - (Memories Episode 4)

Shadow dance of distortion fade in and out Teasing to the fore then get wrested back Manipulative psychic games with subconscious Like the sun rays flitting behind clouds of black Memories of hers succumb to quiet whispers Disappearing hope with each ponderous breath Green eyes with sadness reflects in the mirror Broken spirit recedes into shadowy death Fading expectations with each passing hour A life once had - Gone for no reasons Day brings no enlightenment or answers Night brings its own dreams and demons Whispers that fade into lurking silhouettes Seeming familiar faces slink back into regress
I’m back in the office He threateningly comes towards me Meekly putting the phone down I intuit This is not a man to be trifled with
I know for sure getting away from him is imperative I duck - skirting and dodging past him with dexterity He dives at me but I side step with fear driven agility
I’m running again, this dream is recurrent The second time around more terrifying than before
How is it conceivable that emotions linger to torment?
‘When memories from ones past are all wiped clean Why do I feel an inexplicable sense of De’ja’vu? Linked with futility and fear in-between?’
All this running - dream state or not I should have shed at least 3 kilos by now? The irony is - this time I know the game’s for real It feels like I’m trapped in a scene from ‘Hunger Games’ And even more ominous is that I seemingly know my predator And it’s painfully obvious he wishes to kill me In a cowardly effort to hide his deception, avarice and greed Vital incriminating information I had gleaned If it happened to get to the powers that be I glance nervously behind - I know I’m fast but he’s gaining Fear rips into me - Knots in my stomach Muscles burning - Heart pounding like it will explode - yet I push I push because I know this time I have to give - Give it all I’ve got or die Dear God will this dreadful nightmare ever end? A finale to this strange dream is what I seek
My Angel Guardian if you hover near A good time as any to abolish this fear
Unable to resist another look - so I do Another man hard on the heels of my predator Shock Horror!! This is the love of my life! How could I ever forget the wonders We shared on the beach The man whose child I am carrying? Two men with determined aggressive faces Both seem hell bent on catching me Will this nightmare ever end? Both are carrying poles of some sort Why am I even running? There’s no possibility of surviving this? Yet I do And then I hear the second man call out ’Dani - Dani - head to our place - head to our place’ Is this a trick or is he giving me a clue? His voice oddly familiar And in a flash - a ‘mind pop’ and my memories come flooding back The key to unlock Pandora’s Box A trigger to stimulate my mind into motion Was the familiar voice under duress Calling out my name? I read somewhere - That even ordinary memories have various levels of accessibility Memories you cannot access but yet remain in there imbedded That hopefully gets released in time I hear yet another voice - a sweet musical voice My Guardian Angel My Mum - ‘Dani - Dani come in now dinner’s ready’ And then more firmly - ‘Daniella Richards come in right now’ I know she’s annoyed when she uses my full name A wave of emotion hits me as awareness dawns Realisation that she is with me no more Floods of sorrow Shock Waves So strong that I almost double over So strong because I know who I am Daniella Richards Stronger still when I know the man behind the monster IS MY HUSBAND My assailant behind me is Greg Roberts In hot pursuit is my beautiful husband Jackson The man whom I adore - Doing what he does best Protecting me like he’s always done I feel my neck - the half heart pendant on the chain still intact I glance at my left hand - relief My wedding and engagement rings are there Instinctively I know where he’s telling me to go The sea caves - the place where we used to play as kids
Run Run as fast as you can You can’t catch me I’m the Gingerbread Man Yes I am - Yes - Yes I am
The Next episode …'Running' Episode list in consecutive order: Memories - Episode 1 Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2) Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3) Deception - (Memories Episode 4) Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5) Running - (Memories Episode 6) Video clip - SARAH MCLACHLAN, ‘Answer’ - Published on Mar 31, 2014

Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Ladies Your Advice Please A Collaboration

A collaboration with the women from P.S.! Thank you to all who have taken the time to help with this collaboration! 

Brenda Chiri:

Help me ladies , I need your words of advise!
For I've been played, not just once but twice!
Of late in love I feel at fault, such shame.
But I remained loyal,why is it  myself I blame?

Yes a man I don't need, I know that much.
But no one can live, without anothers touch.
Tell me how once again,I can or if i can trust?
Please ladies for your words I need, it so much!

Jan Allison:

Grrr don't get me started on the subject of men.
Its not just the male sex,just think of when,
We suffer with MENstruation and then MENopause
And blokes drive us MENtal....yes men are the cause!

Kim Rodrigues

Lady number one will throw you a bone.
I mean, find yourself a puppy dog to own.
You'll find he's warm,you can nuzzle with him.
It's not a far stretch to go out on a limb.

Let me off a second choice- a cat and a book.
A little imagination to help you forget that schnook.
Everyone knows a kitten loves to read over your shoulder.
And with the itty bitty furball you won't get colder.

Eve Roper:

Yes a man is good at sweet seductive of words,
to gaze in your fragile eyes and taste your red wine.
Spin you round his finger like twine and say you're mine
Till he's full,grins boyishly flies away like the birds!

Lin Lane:

Men are proud creatures who hardly ever admit to being wrong.
They'll portray themselves as a good guy and string you along.
A portrait of humility until becoming controlling and headstrong.
So look behind the mask they wear before you sing a torch song.

Alexis Y.:

I tell myself, he loves me, he loves me not
I put up his crap because he's all I got
I came to realize I could do bad all by myself
Until a real man comes I'll put my love on a shelf

 Seren Roberts:

Words of advice are often said with forked tongue
Hoping you will follow and end up feeling glum
Listen to your heart, does it miss a beat
When your near a certain someone, or you just on heat.

A man is helpful sometimes when the loads are heavy
No sex though remember to reward with a biscuit and a bevvy.
As to the touching bit that's hard to overcome
Cos nothing is better than a man's well rounded bum

Suzette Richards:

If you are not understood; 
it is all for the good.
Keep the mystique alive; 
and let the men jive.
As the hunter, he thrives; 
satisfying his male drives.

Andrea Dietrich

Some helpful information for my female friends have I.
Most men adore attention, so give them what they crave:
your time, your adoration and for sure, some apple pie!
And then perhaps your guy might end up your love slave!

CayCay Jennings

My words may well be thoughts most unpopular,
but, I make no claim as a romantic scholar.
In my view, when dealing with the human lot,
it is a variety of personalities you have got.

I feel gender is not a character slot.
Either sex can be born a thorough snot
and a complete deceit of predator rot.
Friends or lovers can turn you distraught.

Janis Thompson

Yes, there are from Mars and we are from Venus *from a book
they need to treat woman like the weaker sex that they are
they need to realize they all need us but we don't all need them

Madison Demetros:

Where men become our suitors. 
Where a man will softly peck us on the cheek, and weave, interlace his fingers in our ribbons of silky hair. 

But the thing I love the most about them....
is how lovingly, how longingly they stare.

Winsome Miller-Rowe:

Testosterone is to blame
They say when accosted
That excuse is so lame
It leaves you exhausted

Tell him you prefer
A man using his head
Than a hormone swayed amateur
That is easily led.

New Note : Ladies still excepting any who want to add!!!1/17/18

Note:Any woman who would like to add to this please send me your rhyme and we can write you into this bit of advice!We are far from it being complete so if you want your advice to be added just soupmail me your rhyme and we can work it in! Thank you to the ladies who have already helped out!

Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2017

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mind Pollution

Mind pollution
The manipulation and control of the masses 
Is a world government agenda and constitution
Throughout time.

Newer technology and the information computer revolution
Are powerful weapons to spread evil deeds and even more pollution
The slave masters crack the whip the rich get richer
The poor poorer powerless aboard a sinking ship.

Out of manufactured chaos
Comes apathy and fear
Making nations easier to control
And sell their souls sometimes unwaveringly
Blind to the powers that be commands.

Propaganda to gain support for wars
Bank crashes like never before
To take our money
And make rhe rich richer
Than before
Government leaks and lies spread to cause hate
And justify what the powers that be create.

Puppets on strings controlled by the powerful who lurk in the shadows
The real rulers of the world never seen
Ruthless greedy evil and mean.

For those not blind with open mind
The jigsaw puzzle slowly fits together
Piece by piece and the bigger picture is released
The truth they'll never be peace
The snares are their so take care
Open your eyes free your mind so you can see
World manipulation and subliminal brainwashing in your own home
Through the media and TV.

So many good people in the spotlight have tried to warn us before
And tried to revile the truth and the secrets
But were silenced and found dead on the floor.

Peter Dome.copyright.2015. June.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dance Of The Butterflies

In a small grassy field
With the trees all around
There's a fairy ring ancient and old
And at times you can hear
Perfect echoes of sound --
'Tis the music of ages untold

For the crickets keep time
To a waltz or a reel
And the birds fill that lovely expanse
With the notes to a tune
With a light, airy feel --
In the field where the butterflies dance

Where the wildflowers bloom
With a sweet perfume
In a rainbow of colours and shades
Where the maids hurry down
From the hill-top town
And the butterflies dance with the maids

Where they splash in the stream
Or they lie and dream
Where the bullfrogs thrum
While the butterflies wing
And the hummingbirds hum
While the merry maids sing
In the field where the butterflies dance

On a winged pirouette
Or a six legged slip
How they dance, and they wheel and they turn!
And their wings flash in time
To a bright Scottish trip
While the lassies turn 'round by the burn

For the crickets keep time
To a waltz or a reel
And the birds fill that lovely expanse
With the notes to a tune
With a light, airy feel --
In the field where the butterflies dance

Where the wildflowers bloom
With a sweet perfume
In a rainbow of colours and shades
Where the maids hurry down
From the hill-top town
And the butterflies dance with the maids

Where they splash in the stream
Or they lie and dream
Where the bullfrogs thrum
While the butterflies wing
And the hummingbirds hum
While the merry maids sing
In the field where the butterflies dance

Note: I have used some spondee rhythm in the refrain. That is two stressed syllables in a foot. [ / / ] There is some information in the article on Meter and Foot on this site. Lines 2 and 5 in the first verse of the refrain, and 2 in the second are an anapestic foot followed by a spondee foot; (two unstressed syllables followed by three stressed).

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Ghost's Testimony Co-written with Jack Horne

*NOTE:  Jack and I wonder how many of you have heard of the Zona Shue case – 
an American murder victim who had revenge in Virginia in the late 1800s.
Zona was killed by her husband, Edward Shue, who then took elaborate steps to 
cover his crime.  In an attempt to disguise Zona’s broken neck, Edward dressed her 
corpse in a scarf and high necked dress, stuffed her coffin with pillows (to support 
her vertebrae) and refused to allow even the doctor near the body. 

     However, Zona appeared to her mother and revealed the truth. Following 
exhumation and an autopsy, Edward was found guilty of murder.  It was the only 
case in American history where information provided by a ghostly apparition was 
admitted as evidence for consideration by jurors.

     Jack and I are co-sponsoring a contest on ghost poems.  Our co-write "A Ghost's 
Testimony" below will give you an idea what we're seeking in entries.

"A Ghost's Testimony"

"She must have fallen down the stairs:
A tragic accident," he said.
"I've washed her body, laid her out -
Oh, Doctor Knapp, my Zona's dead!"
       "No accident!  Shue broke my neck.
       Mother, please hear my ghostly plea.
       Take him to court and make him pay;
       It's murder in the first degree."
“I’ve dressed her in her high necked frock…
Thought pillows by her neck looked fine…
 She’d want to wear this scarf,” he wept.
“But no one touch the corpse - she’s mine!”
       "Thanks, Mom, for bringing this to court.
       The autopsy was not done right!
       With malice Shue cut my life short.
       Exhume my body; shed some light."
“Her mother wants to see me hang,
But she can’t prove my guilt,” he fumed.
“She claims the body sheet turned red, 
And wants to have my wife exhumed.”
       "The judge disagreed and allowed
       My spirit world testimony.
       Shue, my killer, was not so proud;
       A death in jail for this phony!"

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.


It twinkles brightly upon a baby’s first born cry On September 23 to October 22 reigns up in sky Transforming into a magical pair of scale Hailing the beauty of Venus to unveil As its Libran muses tread a path of life thenceforth Soaring on element air, Friday has a blissful hoot Ravenous taste on cereals, apples and berry fruit Oh, are they on diet just to fit their suits? They might have been smitten by a peaceful sky blue Wearing gems with sparkling sapphire and jade in various hues Their floral taste of rose in pink, white, blue, red or yellow An exquisite gift of love, three for me and three for you Born Libras are courteous and diplomatic Loving, sweet and most especially romantic They are easy-going and charming They are very sociable and they are darlings Born Libras are peaceable and fair Lovers and friends to everybody, they prefer They are balanced both in mind and in heart forever No ambivalence for love, never a teeter-totter
Aug. 26,2014 6.10.00pm I just got most of the information here from the designs of my favourite mug and cover of my piano piece. I don’t know if it is true ;)))))

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2014

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

BiPartisan Dissonance

When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time 
to where she began to feel alone,

If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of stained white washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.

You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughter

Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance 
is what Republicans have about Democrats,
and vice versa.

If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about my intrinsic dignity, royalty perhaps,
sense of anthrocentric entitlement,
immaculate integrity as a Sacred Orthodox Tradition,
utterly necessary to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,

(although perhaps not quite sufficient),

Including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their unhealthy wealth and extravagant disregard
for undercommodified humane values,
like caring and nurturing, loving and therapeutic
mentoring relationships and trees of life, and economic
and eco-logical environ-mental (0)-sum cooperative networks,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
most especially religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.

So, please stop leaving the bathroom of discourse,
regardless of how rhetorically insane and polemic,
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
optimized economic growth.
Then you democratically complain,
by voting for the one you hate the least,
as we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
of radical,
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
Much too "solidarity" for Republican taste as True,
much less Just to those who prefer their
economically entrenched competitive silos

our Democratic family value parents 
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were bionically alien unitarian utilitarians,
like honey bees and ant hives,
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four dimensions of truth,
and  without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
right now
than telling your oppositional daughter,
or son, 
Dr. Seuss's The Lorax, 

Interpreting each voice as your own Lorax Ego-EcoLogos,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and political
and economic
and ecological
and cultural 
and biological karmic finish line,
alone in your polycultural 
Yum-Yum Tree Paradise.

When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumption,
that Win-Win cooperation will not have our final say,
is not ecologically, scientifically,
or even permaculturally, metaphysically
sound, rational, integrated,
sustainably designed to benefit future generations,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.

You can't win a P=NP,
4-fractal/spiral (0)-sum
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and integrity
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.

With this perhaps un-Christian, 
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic mutual-redeemer culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality, and intuition,
than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
wealthy fat-cat anthro-supremacist residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of monocultural monotheism,
poverty and the overpowering commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,

Under-producing her capacity to regenerate fertile maturing seeds,
turning away from sin as sterile insanity,
disability and absence of healthy love,
to now prophecy the sins of monopolistic drenching wealth,
and overly ballistic power;
to notice challenging, dissonant tipping points
within monocultural,
bicamerally competing ecopolitical uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all consciousness
all nations,

All extending families
reconnecting our more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of EcoTribe,
multisystemic and polyculturally Climaxing Community, 
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Not Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)

So, yes, Democrats, not Plutocrats, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic ecotherapy.
Donkey clown shoes might also fit elephants.

Speaking of elephants in too-narrow-minded oppositional spaces, 
where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that wet wild floor.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Cure To Everything

Offer decay for my maggot king,
Plant people not flowers,
Untold power but just witnessing,

The meat and the bones surround,
Eat people not sushi,
Can see death but what have we found?

Production means we can consume,
Deny people grace,
Glittered path to our abortion room,

I hold my pen my like five charging rams,
Crush people like sawdust,
My redemption was never even a plan

My words aren't just empty they are screaming,
It's like the insects have found a better meaning,
Open my eyes and the nightmares not so far away,
Why does tomorrow have to happen today?

Life's just a bomb that I'm winding,
Only out to hurt the ones that love,
If you could see through my eyes,
And ask how could Heaven let this happen,
Would you scrape their ending off of me?

What if I let,
The weapon philosophy,
What if I make,
Psychotic symphony,
What if I act,
Like you are the enemy,
What if I hurt,
All that's real to me,

Lasted but for just how much longer now?
People spread like disease,
Age of information but you don't know how,

You're reaching out with prosthetic arms,
People alive in paradox,
Grazing your feces for the political farms,

Times like this have happened before,
Great flood for people,
Deconstruction of the envious core,

In the damage of blind acceptance,
No more people,
Suicide is our only life in penance,

All we can be is sin in our citizenship,
Like the fallen Gods they pretend to worship,
Dark and cold so we engulf ourselves in flames,
God loved me but it's not a lover's game,

Life's just a bomb that I'm winding,
Only out to hurt the ones that love,
If you could see through my eyes,
And ask how could Heaven let this happen,
Would you scrape their ending off of me?

What if I break,
The spinal deception,
What if I seek,
The violent affection,
What if I call,
Demon infestation,,
What if I sink,
The forgiving isolation.

Copyright © Steven Delauder | Year Posted 2016

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.



Tin-can man. 
Input, circuit, and overdrive.
Shadow of the future and the past.
Movement hidden, you are not alive.
Programs burned and running fast.

What else can you do?
Wakening up every morning,
and not able to read the news.
Passing a breeze God gave you.
Barely feeling the I love you~s.
Your data has been set to self destruct!
Walking around all confused.
While your memory is set on stuck.

A heart not made to rust.
Hanging laundry out in the rain.
Lazy technician you can't trust.
Look what he's made out of you.

Ready to blow your thrust!

Compute- abort- system to self destroy.
Restoring the joy sucked out of you.
Input: input: information .
Wipe out the old, store in new.
Delete all files to recycle bin.

System reboot to life again.
With a new program that reads:
Feeling like a human once again.
       (This robot is on)
      .(self shut down!)
        P.D. was here!

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- No thanks I do not want this dance -

 This is not a ballroom
 There is no dance for you tonight
 I'm not looking for love
 I'm looking for pleasure reading poetry
 Sharing my thoughts and words
 Listening and reading your words
 Wipe your tears and clean your wounds
 Share, the sun, the moon, the stars and the heaven
 Gives a bit of myself to you who are suffering
 It costs so little to me I give you comfort
 Behind the dark clouds the sky is always blue
 No orchestra plays for a dance
 My ball shoes are old and the dress too small
 Dance while you're young ...

 By the way...
 I will choose my own dance partner
 And I like to dance barefoot..... :)

A-L  Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Information note: Some believe PoetrySoup is a dating site.

Register for free to meet new people!

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Lucky Numbers 2, 10, 24, 65, 93

You don’t know this but
we’re all ISBN’s. At birth,
we’re tattooed across our asses
with barcodes, ID tags, social security numbers.
The only doctors allowed
to perform this surgical move
were trained in suits and sunglasses,
were handcuffed to computer suitcases,

held galas in mansions in the hills
of Virginia, roamed secretly through tunnels
beneath Abe Lincoln’s feet, they infiltrated
every hospital, mandated staff to hand over
the key cards. Don’t be alarmed.

Chocolate brownies can still
hold good dreams, peanuts, and marijuana.
This information should not stop you,
you wondered before about those
seven digits printed across the tops of your pay stubs,
didn’t you? And the 48906 signature on every document
from your university.

Yes, you see now. All along,
that tattoo on your soul numbers destiny:
one of the numbers stands for the birthday
of your child, one for the day your parents will find
cancer sinking its teeth in their osteoperostic bones,
and one lists the street address of the building
you will die in. The hospital’s phone number
is merely a set of numbers. Ask them

what they’ve done to you, and they’ll shrug
their white-collar shoulders.

To view this poem on my blog, visit

Copyright © Kelsey May | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Extinction Is Forever

He wakes as sun surrenders to nightfall; emitting a haunting howl, he rises to prowl. Bright amber eyes fixate on sources of nourishment. Leaving his protected den in Yellowstone, gray predator becomes the prey. Just feet beyond the National Park farmers shoot to protect livestock. Defenders of Wildlife beg of Congress “Stop the shooting! Ensure the future of once-endangered wolves!” Regal kings of the mountains and prairies, nearly extinct in the ‘30s, rebounded but are still vulnerable. Their future rests in the hands of man, a species that exterminates thoughtlessly, posing threats to many of nature’s gifts. Wild one, remain in protected areas. Survive and thrive; extinction is forever. Mankind’s death knell tolls for too many.
* Information on the gray wolf is provided by “Defenders of Wildlife,” a U.S. group that works to protect many endangered species. Each day we lose 25 to 150 animal species. Worldwide animal species extinction figures can be found at: *Written March 15, 2015

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Beautiful World

            How did she keep a steady hand
            when painting all those lovely scenes?
            Old Grandma Moses from New York--
            she knew what perseverance means.

            In early years she worked with yarn
            and always loved a quilting bee--
            this country wife and mom of ten
            whose paintings all the world would see.
            With folk art some called "Primitive,"
            her reputation she would make.
            It was much easier, she said,
            to paint a scene than bake a cake.
            Her genius flourished late in life
            and from her brush so smoothly flowed.
            Instructors never taught her art,
            for nature schooled, her gift bestowed.

            Her paintings were of daily life:
            church gatherings, a county fair,
            a checkered house, and winter snows
            depicted with her special flair. 

            She was admired by Presidents,
            and Norman Rockwell was her friend,
            this lady painting by a stream
            whose unique talent knew no end.        

            Her art that brought five dollars then
            now sells for sixty grand and more.
            Prolific artists' giftedness,
            the modern world cannot ignore.
            She painted until her demise,
            which came at age one hundred one.
            We're honored by her legacy
            of rural settings bathed in sun.

        The poem is titled after a famous painting by Grandma Moses.

        Information from the following three sources:

            "A Beautiful World"

            "1942 Grandma Moses Painting"

Date: November 8, 2017
Contest Title: The Fire Inside
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver

October 5, 2018, entered in Anthony Slausen's Paint Mover(s) 
Poetry Contest

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Interview - for Contest

This situation has no basis in reality; in fact, it is ludicrously unreal. However, the likes and dislikes shown of its author are completely true!

Scene: A comfortable office where Andrea Dietrich is finishing up with one of many interviews looking for Mr. Right: Jotting down notes, Andrea looks up to ask another question of her “suitor.”

Andrea: You have told me you enjoy your work and so far, I see several things we have in common. So tell me, Felix, how do you like to live? I mean, how do you manage your house with such a tight schedule?

Felix:  I love a tidy house. I’m so clean and organized, in fact, that I feel uncomfortable when I am not  strictly adhering to my daily routines. 

Andrea (with her  smile suddenly disappearing from her face.) Oh, how nice for you! Well, ok, it was a pleasure meeting you. I need to speak to my next interviewee.

(Andrea’s secretary calls in the next possible candidate for Mr. Right. He is rather slender, slightly muscular, with dark hair tinged with gray, nice eyes, an engaging smile and a rather large nose, reminding Andrea of the actor, Adrian Brody. She hopes she does not seem to be ogling him, but her curiosity is very aroused, for this is her type: someone not too extremely handsome but with an interesting look that sets him apart from the crowd. Her once flagging excitement in the whole interviewing process has suddenly been revived!)

Adam:  Hello, Ms. Dietrich. My name is Adam. May I call you Andrea? (Andrea nods her head, pleased by this man’s seeming confidence and his ease in introducing himself to her) I’ve been looking forward to this interview since hearing that you were on the dating scene again. 

Andrea: Nice to meet you, Adam. I love that name! You seem to already know me. Have we met before? 

Adam:  Not really. I am a poet at another website. My friend at Soup told me about your blog where you were asking to interview men for a love match! A most interesting idea. I just had to check it out because I saw your bio and your pictures and was instantly attracted.

Andrea (feeling a bit embarrassed by the flattery and touching her hair nervously) I am a little older than my avatar shows me to be. I hope you are not disappointed.

Adam: Of course not! You are a beautiful woman and coincidentally, we are about the same age.  (Andrea smiles, thinking to herself how young Adam seems. Adam continues speaking)  I was able to track down information about you on Google, view  other pictures of you and read your poetry. I started with your first page when you joined PoetrySoup and have read all those poems. . . 

Andrea (interrupting him) Are you kidding me? There are so many on that first page..

Adam: I find that the best way to know a woman’s heart is to read what she writes. I intend to read many more of your poems! I thought it would be fun to start at the beginning of yours.

Andrea: Gosh, that is hardly my beginning in 2010, but that year WAS very special for me, starting at PoetrySoup. May I ask which poems of mine you liked best on that page?

(Adam proceeds to name five poems that are also her own favorites on that page! When she asks him what he liked about them, she can tell that he truly read them.)

Andrea:  I’m impressed that you took so much time to read my works. I would like to read yours as well. 

(Adam tells Andrea about his own poetry and she discovers that he too is interested in different poetry forms as well as dabbling in free verse. One more thing they have in common! )

Andrea:  Well, I want to hear a lot more about you. Tell me. . . 
(Andrea now asks Adam many questions. She discovers that like herself, he is not afraid to do things by himself. He enjoys bargain hunting, traveling and learning about other cultures and seeing movies, but not always just the standard Hollywood fare. He even enjoys exercise at the gym and is a teacher like herself, but not just any teacher. He is a professor of linguistics at a prestigious university and his home is located near a beautiful beach. He has taste similar to hers in music, books, food, and even in the types of pets he enjoys having. Not to mention, he is looking for a partner to stroll on the beach with him holding hands, to cuddle by a fire with, and to talk with late into the night.)

Andrea (feeling flushed with excitement) By the way, Adam, may I ask you how you keep your house? I mean, is  spotlessness important to you? Or are you a bit of an “Oscar” like on the Odd Couple?

Adam: I have to be honest. I am not fond of housework. Neither do I expect a potential partner of mine to do it all either. I believe in sharing responsibilities, but I must confess, and I hope this is not a deal breaker,  I’m a bit of a clutter bug!

Andrea (with her mouth turning up in a huge grin) Oh my. So am I!  How would two little clutter bugs work out together, do you think?

Adam: Not to worry, my dear. I have saved up a nice little nest egg in my years at the university. These days I can afford a housekeeper, and with retirement around the corner, I am searching for my soul mate, someone who wants to share a life of travel with me in my golden years, and also a life of fun at home. We can visit our grandkids, go out to dinner every week, go to shows and discuss our poetry together. I just really want someone to share my life with. 

(Andrea is wondering if she is in a dream as she pinches herself to be sure. Her jaw has dropped, and she senses she might be starting to drool, thinking of having possibly found her Mr. Right, not to mention, a home by the beach. OH MY!)

Moral:  The way to the heart of a poetess begins through her poetry. 
Alternate Moral: Dream on!

Written June 18, 2015 by Andrea Dietrich for the Interview Contest of Judy Konos

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Lei Day

Let's celebrate Lei day today
In pageants with a King and Queen
In flowers of each island's hue
A day in which we extol spring.

A day of Aloha's spirit 
Where music's shared in hula dance.
Children wear each island's colors 
In long satin gowns that enhance

The royal court displayed in schools 
That's honored the Hawaiian way.
Let us not forget the May pole
Of other lands on our Lei day.

Take this garland of sweet flowers
Please wear it 'round your neck with pride.
Let us capture the Aloha
Of love in which we all abide.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Happy May Day and Lei Day to everyone!

Note: On May first...May Day is known in Hawaii as
Lei Day. It is a celebration of Hawaiian culture, or the aloha spirit. People commonly celebrate by giving gifts of leis to one another. Schools also put on plays[2] and elect a Lei Day court of Kings and Queens to represent the different islands.[3] Each island has its own symbol that is composed of a color and a flower. Hawaii (the big island) is red, Maui is pink, Oahu is yellow, Molokai is green, Lanai is orange, Kahoolawe is gray, Kauai is purple, and Niihau is white. In the same order the flowers are lehua, lokelani, 'ilima, kukui, kauna'oa, hinahina, mokihana, and a pupu shell. Niihau is the only island without a plant as its symbol. The link below has more information about Lei Day.

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

George Theodore

This man was affectionately nicknamed “The Stork”. He played only two seasons with the Mets from New York. George was a native of Salt Lake City. His major league baseball statistics were not pretty. When interviewed, he would often deliver a vintage quip. He would have played longer if he didn’t dislocate his hip. After the 1974 campaign, George walked away. He is a youth baseball coach and school counselor today. I thank online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The forgotten language

Mystery symbols in our dreams
Are night's telegrams with strange themes
To grasp the message
Of what these scenes presage
The ancients knew decoding schemes

Author's note: Our inability and lack of desire to interpret dreams in the "modern age" is partly the result of our reliance on reason and science.  Our predecessors would be shocked at how illiterate we are when it comes to this skill.  Eric Fromm's book with the same title as this poem makes this exact point.  It is unfortunate that modern man can not properly decipher these gems of information from the subconscious.

Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2013

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

PD Vs Gareth James (The Last Round)

Tanka, didn’t work for me you see.
Sorry for the wait, I’ve been as busy as a bee.
I see PD is getting a lot of praise
I’m confident, PD, it is not just a phase!

I had to wait to view some of your writes
I had little information, but I let you out of my sights
PD, I have recaptured my Soul today
Shoot me down if you want and have your say

I read your Haiku and it would be easy to hurt
But my friend, that time has gone, no more dirt.
I open my arms to embrace you true
Change of direction, writing about the colour blue

Blue is the colour of protection and the spirit
I give it to you, you can walk forever with it.
Poetry Destroyer IS the wrong name
Poetry Supporter is the correct term, but what a shame.

I wish you luck on you future hits
The day will come you will enter the grand old Ritz
So, the offer is there stands there my dear PD
Hit me hard, knock me out, send me to sea.

Is this the white flag, you tell me?
May be it is, lets wait and see.
Send me to the stocks or chain me up
Poetry police, long term i'll never give-up

Copyright © Gareth James | Year Posted 2010

Details | Information Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Canadian Chris

There's a guy on the Soup called Chris
Captain Hook or Peter Pan is his wish
Boy his Blogs are so good
By this Canadian dude
His information sure is the Biz

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011