Best Justice Poems | Poetry

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VIGILANT JUSTICE by Trifiatis, Demetrios
Justice For All by Vitale, Mario
Poetic Justice - Draw Your Own Conclusions by Wolf, Gershon
The Call to Justice by Samanhyia, Emelia
Justice by Warren, Paul
Justice by johnson, edward
Rough justice by mcdaid, liam
POETIC JUSTICE by Moorman, Curtis
They Call This Social Justice by Wings, Broken
SOCIAL JUSTICE by Lee Sr., James Edward

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The Best Justice Poems

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Like A Girl

Listen to poem:
Like A Girl 

I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl, 
And, when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one size fits all

Who and what I want comes from being strong 
Classy and fabulous, 
THIS is my song!

I've been told, cut to size
The world dark and gray, when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind, 
I am tough, outstanding and beautiful!

Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
Like a woman, everything about me is hidden 
Magic and alluring the only joy in sexuality you'll need

I'm empowering this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will, 
     don't ever underestimate my physique

I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A girl 
    wearing heels Breaking the sound of Annabel

       Like, Mona's unforgettable smile, 
       I stand tall Like Miss Liberty
       I am, Betsy Ross, America's #1 designer
            Harriet, who escaped slaver-y 
       Like Theresa and Mary, I'm here to give change
       I am, Hilary overwhelmed with determination
       A leader -- A Goddess, I burn like Joan
       ---Cleopatra in the room
       ---Calamity Jane's wild side
       Emelia's, won't give up heart
       I am Anne, with a secret hidden spot
       Susan B, with the right to vote
       Emily who writes deep and pretty

The sound In your eyes aren't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough, 
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention

I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference
Like a girl, I smile
A smile never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more

Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood

At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


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WORLD DAY AGAINST RACISM





You asked me the other day, my friend, who 
I am  
I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true,  
Look how much the same we are,
No matter what, 
The color
The creed
The race
The status

Look, 
I am born and die
Suffer and enjoy
Love and hate, just
Like you!

I am a father, a brother, a son, 
A mother, a sister, a daughter, just   
Like you,

Happiness I seek, family to raise I wish, 
Peace to find I look for, just   
Like you

I yearn 
I abhor 

I fear
I hope

I bleed 
I heal, just
Like you,

I believe
I doubt 

I accept
I refuse

I laugh 
I cry, just
Like you

We are alike
We are the same
We are brothers, children of 
A unique father 

Tell me, 
My brother, my friend, my ally,  
Why have we:
To oppose
To fight
To hurt
To destroy and
To eliminate 
One another?  

Are really 
Our seas that narrow?
Our oceans that small ?
Our lands so limited to
Contain all of us?

Or
 
Is it the case that 
Our hearts are not big enough 
And
Our minds not so wide-open to 
Enfold all mankind?     

Listen to me, my other self,
It is up to us to change this world, we
Have inherited, with its:
Virtues and vices
History and culture 
Flaws and merits 
And
Try to make it 
Better
Nobler 
Kinder and a more
Caring world

By:
Obliterating harmful beliefs 
Demolishing injurious divisions
Destroying detrimental distrust 
Annihilating racism and
Eradicating the erroneous feeling of
Poisonous superiority 
For to
Bring the dawn of a new loving world, 
A world,
Of acceptance 
Of respect 
Of justice 
Of equality
Of love
And 
Of universal brotherhood

So as 

With peace in our hearts, liberated we 
Would be from
Past’s deleterious tribulations
That 
For myriads of years, have kept us, fighting
One another!


© Demetrios Trifiatis
     21 MARCH 2015


NOTE! Today because of the “ World Day Against Racism” my moral duty, couldn’t 
let me stay away!
 
This poem of mine is an old poem of 2013 that has been edited and improved today thus it is posted now as a new poem! 

* I did this for all my friends who wish me to come back. I will come back when I am ready! Thank you for your love!


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015


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Winds of Autumn

I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".

Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?

The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death







Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012


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Pathway to love

As I sit watching fusions of saffron and scarlet hues elegantly charm the horizons. Silently, fluffy lush clouds float by like a magnetic field drawing me closer, in hope they may lead me to you. So I ponder maybe love is like the sunrise so many see it - yet so few feel it. Just the thought of my beloved, leads to these poetic fingers bleeding. As they drown in an abundance of words, that can only be soothed by her luscious lips. For these sentimental eyes yearn to caress her tender skin. So, I set upon the path to discover, if it shall lead to the realms of my lover. A path that I have once trodden upon before, but the soul demands to travel upon it once more. After all I'm only human, the love she planted in my heart still remains and how can I love another, when the heart refuses to give permission. Time has kept us apart. I float to her like a butterfly, and shall float until I reach her province. For this not just an infatuated sensation, you may hear in a fairy tale or sung in a lullaby. Her love is the only sensation of infatuation, as she holds the formula to my alchemist heart. I know I can't simply take her heart, it can only be given to one. But without her the world is cold, and I live for the day she will wrap me up inside her heart and never let me leave. For the love she gave, is still the only one I crave. I long to walk together amongst bluebells and ambrosial roses, roaming through an oasis of enchanted blossoms. Her arms will become my sanctuary. To create a masterpiece of serenity, to achieve an eternal state of tranquillity. I hope before first site of twilight, her perfect vision brings justice to this write. In a world full of expectations, I may lose the passion to exist. Just one beautiful gesture, will help me to remember how to smile. For, I know her radiant eyes will provide clarity, the warmth of her kiss will be my remedy. The Silent One 8 November 2017 Simple Musings.


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Poetry Pillar

When Light needed a body to behold, and color to kiss,
as Darkness dreamnt to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered to lust for learning, and being learned,
as blood bespoke to bones for building a star of flesh,
when Time needed the umbrage of it's ubiquity to be understood,
the moment texture tempted touch to tease with a thousand sensations,
when laws of love sought a language to express the extremes of it's lips,
as romance rampaged through the ravishings of famished hearts,
when the seduction of sorrow made heros of loving men and women,

When Justice appealed to the instincts of intent for inscriptions of innocence,
as bravery found battle in basic questions of survival and conquest,
when war demanded a metaphor in the terror of it's diligent destruction,
as Faith found resolve in seconds small along with giant gestures,
Death singing melancholoy for sympathy and Life haughty upon it's horizon,
when Angels chose to wear albatross of gold to feel the rue of rogues,
as the most perfect woman ambushed the ideals of rumored beauty,
when God wanted imagination to create immaculate reality
Poetry began, born in the instant of forever Art,
because, the only promise of a Poet, is Passion -

Dedicated to Poetry...J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014


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God Bless America

In the courts of sport and entertainment
They have forgotten the scales of justice
Lacking honor for those who gave life and limb
Sacrificing blood, and buried with god giving grace

The anthem is our history
of all triumphs, good, and even flaws
Look into the eyes of a veteran
to see inside a suffering vault

They, who fought, so that you may play
They who died, so that the rich live this day
Even the poor still have their freedoms
For veterans themselves, knew their reasons

No man, no nation can stand up to perfection
Its about respect of those, who gave...
Despite all imperfections
Without, history repeats, sending more to the cross and knave

When you hear "God Bless America"
Think of those flag covered graves
Think of the children
No fathers, because it is you they saved

Our nation is human
Filled with imperfections
Protest for change, for better days
While holding respect for those, who before you

With their blood, led the way


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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Teardrop

I ask you to mind our earth, heed our existence upon it, care for our lives and all that will occur if we cannot consider beyond ourselves, if we are guided by uncertainty, when we fear the unknown, when we shun those who differ from us in skin color, in sex, in persuasion, if we turn our eyes away, when we dance upon the hidden strings of politicians or cunning puppetmasters, when we swallow the lust of war, when poets languish in isolation, without ear or encouragement, when we torture, when prejudice blinds us to the humanity of another, when our deluded misconceptions will go public with ready trigger finger, when we mistake violence for the solution, when we fail the worthy person, when we won't bother to look past the wheelchair and to whom he really is, to say his real name, when the most expected thing we will share with him is discrimination, when we forget that here in space we are in this together, when tomorrow is the day that old and young will die in roaring explosions, in quiet corners without notice, when people are driven from their homes, when women must live in fear, when we steal identities, when evil hides in anonymity, when we rest in apathy, indifferent to the pain of others, when our fellow creatures are in chains for our profit and amusement, when hunger and hatred are accepted, when malice shrieks loud, when we cut baby girls due to generational gender inequality, from psychosexual ignorance and hard superstition; when we deny justice to one lonely voice, our world falls, stretching itself into a teardrop.
December 26, 2016 For FJ Thomas's contest - 'Concrete Crush'


Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016


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The Verdict

NOW
Well, GI Jack is welcome back, he left his legs in 'Nam.
He wakes at night in sweat and fright, then drinks another dram.
He doesn't know quite where to go, so seeks his uncle, Sam.

BEFORE
One can't ignore - his ma was poor, and life was sometimes cruel,
yet Jack was brave and well behaved and surely no one's fool	
so joined the ranks that man the tanks, as soon as he left school

He learned to kill our foes at will (ordained a sacred rite),
and packed his bag and wrapped his flag and went away to fight.
And yes, the tide was on our side (for, clearly, might makes right)

Through tangled days in jungles' maze, he sought the enemy
behind the trees where, ill at ease, he fought the Yellow sea -
upon the waves of sunken graves he sailed a killing Spree

The napalm dropped and cooked the crops, burnt huts along the way
and tanks, with ease, mowed down the trees and villages of clay.
Yes, turret guns were loads of fun with roaring roundelays

While on the hunt with other grunts, he burned some babes alive
and wondered why frail things must die, while evil's phantoms thrive -
When folly ends, he'll make amends if only he'll survive
	
With booby traps (sticks dipped in crap)... yes, Charlie fought unfair.
He hid in holes like snakes and voles and snuck up everywhere
and like a mite beneath the night, caught Jackie unaware

At battle's end, Jack sought his friends - their souls were washed away
and only he and destiny were left in disarray -
with bed and pan, just half a man, the man of yesterday

When Jackie woke, beyond the smoke, his frame no longer whole,
he found instead a medalled thread, some wraps to hide the hole,	
and realized another prize: a chair on wheels to roll

Across his chest (you've surely guessed) his medals shone, arrayed.
His head felt light, as well it might, at Victory Day Parade
for when he rolled, while others strolled, his boots no longer weighed

AFTER
Well, Jack stayed home (no roads to Rome)  to start his life anew
receiving dole (that took its toll) which fell in Sam's purview,
but soon enough, when times got tough, his uncle, Sam, withdrew

To walk the streets with fine elites (or someone else who begs)
or find a job (or even rob) requires both your legs,
and those that don't and those that won't are those we call the dregs
 
For getting by he tried to ply and mine his medals' worth -
a tinny cup, a hungry pup near loamy pits of earth,
and best of all, per protocol, beneath a bridge, a berth

He clutched a sign 'A dime to dine?', if anybody cared,
but soon he found, as time unwound, that victors seldom shared.
And Jackie's pride was slowly fried by vacant eyes that stared

He took to drink to break the link with thoughts of what he'd done,
though threads of doubt began to flout the yarns Big Brother spun
of freedom's ring and other things like what it was we'd won

He told the breeze his vague unease; his words infused the air
and like the fogs above the bogs, soon floated through the square
where people sat at tea to chat, and thought 'How could he dare?'

But freedom's price is never nice: like storms before the flood
the Daily Rag was on a jag, was looking out for blood,
deemed Jackie's thoughts untamed and fraught, then dragged him through the mud

By snooping clues, they plucked his views like grapes upon the vine.
Big Brother came, blamed Jackie's name for thinking out of line,
shut Jack away from light of day while letting freedom shine

The Junto Brass, with eyes of glass, were robed in fine array
to hear the words (though slightly slurred) the witness gasped to say,
while Justice snored (the water board awash with Perrier)

Well, Jack was charged with laws enlarged in secret dossiers
within the guise of spreading lies and leading thoughts astray -
The Jury's out... the rabble shout 'well someone's gotta pay'

The Judge (who fears the mind’s frontiers), he turned his head to yawn
while making haste through courtroom waste, though slightly pale and wan -
The voodoo Lune withdrew as soon as Night condemned the Dawn

ETERNITY
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the sighs of Silence, rife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the Reaper played a fife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the price was Jackie's life

Epilogue
While censor’s cooks are roasting books (and truth) on stakes ablaze,
well, Jackie's head (though chopped and shed) still thinks about the praise
for deeds once done in victories won when cruising in a craze,
and then again about the sin of thinking, nowadays,
where, absently, humanity is served in urns on trays -
and, reconciled, it simply smiles at fortune's funny ways

Epitaph
A  mind was caught while thinking thoughts neath Sammy’s prying gaze
and forced to stop by concept cops, else join the castaways.
For now it's law to hold in awe the brave new world's malaise
and dance like mimes to rigid rhymes (which no one disobeys)
and celebrate with white-washed pate, adorned with dead bouquets -
with freedom’s death, time holds its breath, and waits for better days...


08/08/2013


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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Human Being

You are a human being they told me, something you should treasure
But isn't a human being the only animal who kills for pleasure?
Man's inhumanity to man, a crime like no other
The first family on earth had brother killing brother
We are power hungry bastards from the cradle to the grave
We pillage other countries and the survivors we enslave
Politicians lie to their people saying only what they want to hear
Stripping their own of a sense of pride and instilling a state of fear
They speak of human rights and how our country has been torn
Then turn around and murder a child before he's even born
For killers and rapists and dealers the ACLU has led many fights
Then tell a six year old rape victim that she really has no civil rights
We can't teach about Jesus, our school teachers must be mum
We can teach about Hitler, Stalin and other human scum
People kill each other for no reason every day
Then a lower form of life, a lawyer saves his day
Where is justice? Nowhere in sight.
Anything is legal if the price is right
You are a human being. This is what they proudly proclaim
If I am a human being, then I should hang my head in shame.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006


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The Rest is Silence

I left her behind
emaciated
I left her
dying
I left her
I left her
I wanted to die there with her
there in the desert
where I left my mother
there where the stench of the dead and the dying 
filled the air
I left her
my other children dragging me on
the solders shouting
threatening..theatening
I had to go on...for the others

I left her
my little girl
who was too weak to speak
too weak to cry
my little girl
whom I smothered
knowing it would be quick
not wanting night to call
the animals to crawl
over her still living body
not wanting her to hear
the death wail of the old and frail
all around
I smothered her
and kept on walking
not hearing
not seeing
not smelling
not living
not breathing

I left her
I left my heart
I left my dreams
I left my tomorrow
and every yesterday
every memory
every hope
of a better day

I left her
and in that starless night
there in the desert
naked and bleeding
starving
shivering
I knew....

"the rest is silence."

Eileen Manassian

"The Rest is Only Silence" is from Shakespeare's Play...Hamlet. I, however, will not be silent about the Armenian Genocide. This is in memory of the 1.5 million Armenians who lost their lives in the Genocide of 1915.Though this is a fictitious write, the events depicted did happen during the Armenian Genocide in 1915 by the Ottoman Turks. One million and a half Armenians were marched into the desert in what has come to be known as the Death March. My mother's family were fortunate. They were able to run away in time. They relocated to Lebanon. My mother was a refugee at 14 years of age. She and her two sisters suffered poverty and had to work hard to make a living for the family. Their fate could have been worse. April 24 marks 101 years since that event. Not all countries have recognized the genocide. Unfortunately, America is one of them. 

If you want to read an account of those days, read The Sandcastle Girls. Read of how woman were tied to stakes as the soldiers rode past on their horses and decapitated them. Read of how the orphaned children were gathered at night and put in caves and burned alive. Read of how the woman marched naked...their wounds festering, their hair matted...almost inhuman. Read of how women committed suicide rather suffer rape while others disfigured themselves to go unnoticed. History cannot deny the genocide. If justice is not served here...it will be....one day. God told Cain..."the blood of your brother Abel is crying out to me." The blood of these martyrs cries out today for recognition.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016


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When It Comes To Me

I often sit for long periods of time
hoping the perfect beginning will come to me.
To write a poem that starts with a pristine Capital
leaving readers with great expectations.

But after much torment, with not a fleck of gold in sight,
it's comes to my attention
that much like life, How it Began
isn't half as important as How it Finishes,

(And neither as important
as How it Is in the Present)

That's how it was, in any case,
when the landlord dropped the news
that sunny Idahoan morn;

It was a time for a change, they all said in unison:
my sister, my brother, my mother ---
And like the sweetest melancholy, I couldn't help but agree,

For I knew no matter where I went
I'd always have poetry ...

(but now it seems she has alluded me)

Through 2,500 miles and 9 states;
through a million and a half brand new things 

... and yet

Inspiration refuses to sing.
As I sit here in suspense
for that metaphorical gravy train,
wondering when the words
will start flowing again.

Will it be like it was before,
when it comes to me?
Ears perked to the extreme
with expectations of a symphony?

When it comes to me ...

Will they laugh? Will they cry?
Will my words come across
like softest lullaby?

Because sometimes our muse just up and leaves,
we wonder why.
But no my most cherished friends,
we mustn't cry,

for it's been a great adventure,
has it not?

Remember the words of Dr. Seuss:
Don't be sad that it's over,
Smile that it happened.

Though words were once putty in my hands
I now take in the beauty that encompasses me,
content to just let it sit,
without the need to express it ...

But don't be fooled, Dearest Reader,
for I have the highest hope
that stars will dance,
leaves will fly,
birds will sing,

WHEN it comes to me.

But will you believe me when I say
I've watched the stars fall and flicker
between the leaves
a hand's breadth from my fingertips?

(go on and take a sip
the magic's free)

That I've breathed in the air,
as if it were honeysuckle blooming in the sky
just for me.

Oh and how I wish you could see
beyond the words of this page,
for it's beyond a tragedy
that all I have to give is this poem.

You know I'd offer you my eyes
for you to see the things I'm seeing.

(put your hand on my chest,
can you feel it beating?)

Like the petals of a rose
she holds me close:
the place where the bright rubicund clay
makes way for my Armstrongian footprints

---just one small step
then comes the leap---

My arms spread wide
hoping for discovery,
but preparing for catastrophe ...

And believe me when I say
I couldn't dream of sleep,
for when it comes to me
the minstrels will weep,
the prisoners'll be set free ...
as emotions become ablaze
in new and surprising ways.

For there's a lily pad pond,
just outside my backdoor ....
that's begging for a tale to be penned.
There's a place called Mount Alto
sitting just like a storybook
outside the backdoor, my friends,

whilst I sit here
listening to the cicadas sing
in Valley Soprano,
reminding me that everything
is but a poem-in-waiting:

The rolling green hills
bearing witness of mountain familiarity;
the black butterflies
flitting between
the berry blossoms of May.

Everything is so new here ...
far beyond anything I could ever say.
And I hope I can do it justice,
to paint a picture in your head,
with every ounce of the things I've said ...

(auto-biography? fantasy?
you won't be able to tell the difference
when it comes to me)


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016


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AMENDMENTS TO MAKE





The last moment of his life came
The beyond anxiously awaited to receive him into
Its eternal embrace

He was terrified

He asked for some more time 
Wished some amendments to make:
Wrong doings to make right
To give love to those he hated
To help those that were in need
To be truthful to those he betrayed
To ask forgiveness from those he hurt

Alas 

Adamant was the Lord of the hereafter 

"Such requests can never be gratified" he said

" You see the law of cause and effect is unforgiving. 
 The balance of things should be maintained otherwise the 
harmony of the whole would be disturbed ." he added

" What you sow is what you reap " with emphasis declared 

" Do not worry though" he continued

" On this side absolute justice prevails for it is irrelevant if one 
is a king or a beggar thus you will receive the right sentence but 
always with the agreement of your soul - God's ambassador in you-
that will offer the final accurate testimony of your actions on earth, 
adding nothing and subtracting nothing ." he concluded! 






© Demetrios Trifiatis
       17 May 2018








Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2018


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Poet Convention 2014

Poet Convention

Lost in a poets convention, 
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'--- 
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears 
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line, 
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years 

Today's Convention, 
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned

I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.  

I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,  
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us, 
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind 
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance

This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style

Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again 
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen 
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects 
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside

I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side 
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement

Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie, 
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly. 
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--  
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."

Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show 
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words

Scribe ML., where are you my friend? 
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!

Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan, 
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words

Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,  
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.

Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M., 
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY 

Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry, 
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community

Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix

Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M. 
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.

Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget

Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.

Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you, 
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.

Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't.... 
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong

Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best 
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships

Before I forget, 
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:) 
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"

As you know my kindness is my weakness 
Now it's time to be strong and move on 
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNN!

Love 
The Poet Destroyer


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014


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Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com


Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010


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DEMOCRACY



Oh Democracy,* 
You, most desirable bride among  
Political systems,
Your suitors many have been throughout 
History  
In every part of the world, you were the one
They were after
But
You declined their proposals, despite the fact
All suitors, to charm you they have tried, 
With great honors and by putting your name 
Next to theirs, to allure you to sanctify their 
Biased politics
Thus
The oligarchs
The Despots
The Tyrants
The dictators
The totalitarians and
Many more
All 
Have declared themselves your fervent 
Admirers, your ardent devotees to you and to
Your eternal principles 
By wrapping themselves in your
Heavenly gown and calling themselves your 
Beloved ones 
But you unyielding remained
For
You knew that no one has succeeded to measure up 
To the ideals your wise father, SOLON,** has set
And to the glorious values with which he 
Nurtured you, those superb principles: 
Of Virtue
Of justice
Of ethics
Of freedom 
Of equality
Of autonomy 
Of self-knowledge
Of responsibility
Of lack of self interest 
And 
Of the paramount devotion to
The common good and the happiness
Of the people you serve!

It is for that reason, you, oh Democracy, 
Seldom have shown any favoritism to any of 
Your suitors, for all fell short of
Your lofty aspirations 
Thus 
You were, unfortunately, for very
Lengthy periods of time mistreated, neglected, subjugated and
Exploited by your pretenders:   
The immoral
The unjust
The dishonorable  
The Ignorant
The power thirsty 
The war mongers 
The money seekers,  
Who 
Chose to ignore all that you stood for and  
Disregarded the common good and the
Happiness of the people they supposed to serve
For to promote their own interest and those of 
Their cronies  
Thus 
Ruining the chances of any true democratic 
Society to be established  
For that reason, oh Democracy, I understand you now
Why a spinster, you, have chosen to
Remain!


© Demetrios Trifiatis
 16 OCTOBER 2014

* Democracy is the combination of two words: Demos and Cratos . Demos means the People and Cratos means Power so Democracy means “ Power to the People.” It will be helpful to read my poem “ THE BIRTH OF DEMOCRACY” for a better understanding.

**The concept of Democracy is deeply rooted in the Greek Psyche! We see it in the Mythology where Zeus, the supreme God, is just “first among equals” Then appears in Homer’s poems but the father of Democracy is asserted to be Solon, the Athenian who was one of the seven wise men of old. Solon, 7th –6th centuries B.C. was the theoretician that established Democracy. Solon considered the pillars of Democracy to be Justice and Virtue. So every politician should be Just and virtuous and his main objective would be to safeguard the wellbeing and happiness of the people and that of the state's plus the wealth to be distributed justly among the citizens. Knowledge, responsibility, self-control, self knowledge, sacrifice, equality, had do be characteristics of every citizen. Plato said that “Virtue worth as much as all gold that is possessed by all people put together and all gold that is still in the ground.” To that Aristotle added that “ every politician has to be forged on the anvil of virtue.”         


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014


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The Poet

THE POET’S PANEGYRIC “There’s someone I knew with talent unleashed and a heart that had for so many relentlessly reached This poet sought inspiration from the living and the dead But I can tell you this about the poet who has moved me by what this poet had ever said I read the words from a comfort zone which this poet created, surrounded by friends or by foes or simply alone” His essence of soul sweeps down deserted dead streets where the thunder still crackles, the burial bell bleats He laughed at himself as a Royal Rhymester Clown but bore the black pains of those all aroun’, He echoed regrets but never a grudge ... of this I’ll say little... let his lines be the judge THE POET’S PEN Blind shots cry out beneath the night, a car is cruising by. A stripling’s blood streams words to write ... Wry rhymes to ask us why A silly girl with child, unwed... to many, but a slut. The baby at her breast is dead ... Cruel couplets meant to cut A drifter, broken, cast aside, lies lifeless in the cold. Tap tattoos on a tattered hide ... Some scarlet stanzas scold Two lovers clutch a turtledove, enraptured by her coo, impaled on pangs of Ladylove ... A sultry song for two A drone of drums in distant wars beguiling bold dragoons who sell their souls like wanton whores ... Raw rhythms writ in runes The stars ablaze, like tiger-eyes reflecting candlelight, ’lume angels singing Lullabies ... A sonnet stuns the night The soulless eyes of shackled slaves bleed tears that burn and blur. Their ash, like dust, set free in graves ... Emblazing ballads stir A hurricane, foretold, unfurled, unravels mystic signs as Demons dance, destroy the World ... Limned lurid lyric lines Some die a death neath hangmen’s hands where tainted justice reigns for ‘thou shalt kill’, Revenge commands ... A quiet quatrain pains While well-to-dos amass and flaunt And follow fashion’s trends, pale children starve and die of want ... And so an epic ends THE POET’S EPITAPH His words lie strewn along the sand While breakers wash ashore The ripples weave designs unplanned ... a verse forevermore His tales, entwined in cryptic airs where freedom seeds are blown, warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware’ ... his heresy is sown His life outlined a chronicle along a lonesome road It started out as doggerel ... and ended as an ode
With a little help from my extremely talented, but somewhat modest, friend “ANON” AKA JC... Thanks JC, for the depth of your support and your breath of inspiration...


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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Betrayed Expectations

I flew to Olympus, to find its heart,	
armour intact against Hades’ dark wrath.	
At birth the power of light made its start	  
as Homer's ghost sent me upon my path!	

Yet there I found only an empty throne	
where once Zeus in glory firmly reigned.	
So sad! For no lighted wisdom was shown,	
such that grievous and blue, my heart was pained!	

Thunder and lightning I didn’t yearn to find, 	
nor divine favours for eternal youth.		
I wanted reassurance, peace of mind, 	
justice for all and no distorted truth.		

At the foot of Olympus I sought love		
but no compassion came down from above.	

---------------------------------------------------------
Robert Lindley & Paul Callus ~ 21st November 2015 
Chosen Poem Of The Day, 3rd December, 2015



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015


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A Friendly Goodbye


Poem 1: A Boy And His Painted Piano

he used lively greens
tender blues,
touches of plain mauve 
and rainbow trout splatters
to paint music
on the gas fumes 
that inhabited the clean air
that once use to live there.

he made the ugly decaying
neighborhood i lived in
bearable on even the worse of days.

he was the soft harmless rays of a comforting sun
and responsible for the smiles that broke through
the usual dismay on the faces of seven to ten year olds
already sold on the idea their life expectancies  were
somewhere in the low twenties.

life isn't always about the new iPhone being released
he represented hope.
hope that someone could make it out of the sewers and return
to free the whole chain gang presently locked firmly to a large solid steel post.

even in the dingiest basements of the worst streets
somehow, a whiff of hope threads through the tar laden atmosphere 
and children rise above the manhole covers
that would otherwise maim their existence and keep them
buried below the impossible dream. 

luckily there is always a don quixote who sees beyond
the all too real windmill set to blow others away?

Poem 2: A Street Puddle

what story hides
in this street puddle
what do the reflections want to recite.

one broken flower lies on the wet tar.

the wall cracks from the very bottom to the top
sitting there are black boots quivering 
stalked by white boots with their bully badges yelling "comply"
blind to the co-operation to their commands. deaf to pleas of mercy
as black rubbers fall 
as the wall echoes their cries
three boots stand and you wonder where lies that fourth boot.

do the mass boots of all kind even care
black feet walk as their words float
to fill the air drawing on the sky "no justice no peace"!
time passes, deceptive winds clear the atmosphere and...
weeds grow through the concrete to climb the walls
you can see the shadows large against this impromptu screen
and nothing changes. white boots rule.

Poem 3: In The Beginning 

I have always been here.
I was here when you turned the Earth's Stomach.
When it regurgitated your acid tongue
              stripped the land of its roots and nothing grew.

When you thought you could just skate through 
but instead fell through the lake and froze the Planet
from one pole to the next.

When you cheated the Sun of its permanent spot.
Had it not been for romance who placed 
an infinite sparkler in the night sky
who orbited earth barely clad in her white night silk dress
you might of owned time.

I was here
when you flooded the land
but you hadn't counted on 
the amoeba
everything changed and you retreated 
to your original pit of fire.

maybe you could deal in souls
you knew what was coming
when the heavens opened
and released the winged guardians

so here we sit
the best i can hope for is
balance
fifty/fifty 
good and evil
I'll take my chances with those odds.

Poem 4: A Boy And His Wooden Dragon

a detailed wood carving of a dragons bust leads an ancient 
                                                     ship through an unforgiving storm.

if this replica could only breathe fire like the ones in children's tales

still 
         his face is lifelike, ferocious!

one could swear trails of smoke escape from his nostrils,
  i am convinced his eyes are real emeralds.
          
                          the waves against the metal ship, 
                              the salt that dissolves the rust, 
                                 flows over the dragons neck,
giving one the impression the creature is bleeding.

old wood has no life flow...
                            ...does it?
    no pump to circulate sap
                                  but!...
...i'm convinced this inanimate portrayal is leaking vital fluid.

the craftsman's hand has...,
perhaps...,
a long shot to say the least...,
maybe?,
given his formation...

can the craftsman's artistic soul be so intense as to breathe 
a half life into his meticulously chiseled creation?
how much power does the real artist?...

on a more practical line of thought,
                                                         will we survive?

"who cares" i think "that decision rests not in my hands."
so...
half cocked 
i foolishly climb the dragons neck.
i remove my shirt to use as a tourniquet.
i apply it to his gushing neck in an attempt to heal him.
the whole time stroking him in a calming manner 

suddenly he releases a breath 
he opens his jaw wide
and exhales fire equal to that of a volcanic eruption.

and just like that 
the storm stops.
the sky flashes his baby blues.

would we make it back to land?
is this just an ironic pause in the inevitable egregious battle yet to come?

time would tell. 
time always tells. 
never trust time with a secret.

                          time would tell
                                      after all
                      that is all we have 
                                  us humans 
                                              time 
                                               and then..


June 2015
Armand






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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My Heart and Soul Cry Justice

Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity

My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!

It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away

My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE

And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role

My passion mad cries…JUSTICE

I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite

My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE

And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh

My hungry need cries…JUSTICE

This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face

Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!

For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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the PLAGUE

as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on sleaze).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues
... while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heros or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or retarded or helpless, it’s all their own fault – 
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors  (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen, 
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE promote many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone 
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are.... well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.   
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust 
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that may fall from the sky.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
the ol’ school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR thrones...
whether diamonds or rubies... to ivory WE’re prone) –
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em some bones.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails,
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagne, ginger ales...



Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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Give and Take


The give and take in love should reach a mean
whereby the two be equally disbursed,
so givers' hearts would never suffer lean,
cold hungry hours without love reimbursed.

And those who take would never reach the stage
of ravenous and selfish, one-way traits.
Such balance would create a better age,
if give and take maintained their equal weights.

But somehow this could never balance out,
for givers give beyond the gifts they bear;
in turn, must feed on crumbs, for without doubt;
the hungry takers take beyond their share.

While takers tip the scale with all they gain,
the givers, weak and thin, smile through their pain.


Sandra M. Haight

~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Any HM Ever
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 01/22/2017

~ Honorable Mention~
Contest: Love Justice
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Judged: 01/24/2015


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


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Justice - A Parable

A woman gave birth to a son
named Justice; he had little fun.
If he wanted to play,
his mama would say,
“But only when Justice is done!”

Poor Justice, from morning till night,
tried hard to do everything right.
By the end of the day,
he still could not play,
for his time to do chores was so tight!

His life was a crime with no play!
We all know that crime doesn’t pay.
But were I in his shoes,
having paid all my dues,
I think I might just run away.

Well, sure enough, Justice did flee
and ended up in Tennessee.
With no place to belong,
he felt sad till along
came a girl who smiled tenderly.

Looking ragged, he asked (with some shame)
if the young girl would tell him her name.
“Can you guess?” said the Miss.
“Here’s a clue. It is this. . . 
Those who have me don’t take all the blame.”

The young man did not have a clue
what her name was; it was all new.
He’d never hear of
- yet soon grew to love -
this girl  and her charming name too.

Today Justice likes more his life
because this girl lessens his strife.
He learned her name well
when in love he fell
and Mercy he took for a wife!

For the Story Poem Contest Poetry Contest of Carol Eastman


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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FEELINGS

FEELINGS


Feelings,
Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions

Burning fire you are 
Consuming my whole 
Being:
My heart
My mind 
My soul
My spirit,  
As you relentlessly
Demand: 
To be conceived
To be formulated 
To be understood
To be expressed!

A Herculean task it is,
I swear, 
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained 
And mold you into:
Phonemes
Syllables
Words
Phrases
Sentences 
And still retain 
Your explosive 
Dynamism?
 
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple 
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!

Thus, having no
Alternative, 
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the 
Cosmos speaks,
And
The universe alone
Comprehends:
The language of 
Harmony,
That we humans 
POETRY name
BUT 
Even then 
To describe you
I AM UNABLE!



©Demetrios Trifiatis
   28 January 2013

 


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2013


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Love Burial

The burial ground,  groomed to greet
the gatherers of their love apocalypse
with garlands grown and sown
from the rose fire of Athena's throne,
on this day they come to mourn
the Poet who perished for the passion of his Beloved Poetess,
the battlefields knew well the iron of their blood,
the salt of their sweat, and the pounce of their love,
raised in the tradition of trauma
trained by the tempest of temptation
disciplined in the competition of desires
refined in the violent rituals of victory
they rose in love
with everything their hearts could sing, with all that war would bring,
and in the epicenter of erotic chaos
he slashed himself with the alter sword
so that she may be free to rule this realm,

Valkyries stand vigil with primroses on speartips
gaurding him, a purple glow in their vigilant eyes,
softly humming for the lightning of his soul
as those in attendance find their solemn places,
many are present, 
Death is in the northeast corner cloaked in smooth black patience
knowing in sad satisfaction that every heart, beats to bleed no more,
Devotion, dressed in a mood of disbelief
with elbows out and fists on his hips
just stares sternly at everyone, one, by one,
Poetry and Love are wearing the reds of romance and sacrifice
while whispering living tears to eachother,
Humble remains seated, meek and agape
clasping Humility's dull hand
commiserating about too much and not enough as Pride stands near,
leaning coolly against a battered pillar of Roman endurance
looking at them as if to say, hey dumb dumbs,
don't disgrace their glory with your glum and glib sully,
Envy, in burnoose sackcloth wasted not the somber moment
to decry the Poet's purpose with claptrap commotion and no compassion,
in unison,  all hush his pusillanimous pout with a scalding Ssshhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Poetry, asking the Beloved Widow if she may speak
is granted permission after a breathless pause of heart heated exhaustion, 
producing a daggar made from the breastbone of Eve
unflinchingly Poetry cuts both cheeks below her eyes
and the blood promenades to her ancient lips
where the warm pages of a white rose receive the ruby smear of this tragedy, 
bringing the pleading flower to her own mouth
she releases a verse upon the universe...
When the nights knew no love
and her heart had only the shadow of warmth
he became the hero's breath upon her breast
the weapon she could trust
and the victor of her kiss,
when his strength served only survival
and desolation weighed the wings of his heart low
she gave his soul the sweet heat of a woman's touch,
teaching him that justice is alive in their love...

In the unbearable anguish of existing without him
she stomps to the blue marble casket, 
tearing it open with love rage,
to slap and kiss her Beloved Poet once more,
suddenly,  heart imploding panic bristles silently,
the air thins dangerously, 
Pride plows through the throng to the side of she,
astonished, shock joy shaping his face,
the Poet's body be not there,
only the symbol of their love resides therein,
a golden pair of quills connecting in the center of a heart
their sign, their promise to eachother,
she turns to Love imploringly, for the truth,
and he removes the jewel from the coffin
returning it to it's rightful place
the safety of her bossom, telling her tenderly,
he yet lives for you, his love for you dies not -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015


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

Pandora's Temptation

For the third time Pandora stands before the box Inlaid with jewels ivory and gold In her hand is the key – she closely examines Intrigued by its intricate patterns - so ancient- so old Her Creator’s mandate she has obeyed She won the love of Epimetheus and at her bidding Never to open their wedding box - he had never been tempted Her devoted lover despite brother Prometheus forbidding Her every wish - her husband’s command But Zeus’s words her obligation till today 'Ouchi to koityon anoiksis’ However wedding presents need to be opened Insatiable curiosity leading her to disobey She is aware the brothers had so angered Zeus When Heaven’s hearth fire they defiantly stole That was denied to mankind to teach them a lesson But she is unaware of the Gods plan and her critical role Like witches a brew they must concoct A female clay form fused to conception Zeus and the Gods hatched a heartless plan A woman will be part of their cunning deception The breath of life is bestowed by Athena From Aphrodite comes insatiability and beauty Music from Apollo - Speech by Hermes Bringing brothers to justice was her God given duty They named her Pandora - ‘The Bearer of Gifts’ Then present her they did to the brothers two Epimetheus captivated, enchanted when eyes first met Eager was he to plunge into the sweet sensual brew Brother Prometheus ever overly cautious Suspicious of this beautiful apparition Too late is his warning when Cupid appears Swift arrow finds its target without hesitation Pandora and Epimetheus are happily wed The plot that relies on mans greed starts to seed But in his zeal to punish - Zeus overlooked Love’s Power True Love will overcome a mere mortal’s greed FROM LIGHT TO DARKNESS - FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT ‘This priceless box must contain vast treasures The gold inlay alone must be worth a fortune’ Curiosity overcomes the fear of disobedience Then winds enter to blow away all caution Lifting the lid gently, Pandora closes her eyes Then opens them slowly prepared to be amazed Her looks of expectancy soon turns to horror There are things in there that make her afraid Out of the box pour moth like creatures Stinging her till she falls to the floor Pandora’s Box has unleashed to the world Poverty, Misery, Disease and opened Death’s door Epimetheus in his love rushes to her aid Slamming the lid, but alas it is too late They sting him as well and as they lie together In the throes of death - her action sealed Mans Fate Softly so softly the flapping of wings A little voice imploring for its release On opening the box emerges a dragonfly of beauty Exuding such feelings of calmness and peace She alights on them, she breathes air like kisses, Curing their afflicted wounds and their sorrow Releasing them from Death’s Dark Wishes To make amends for a new tomorrow In this precise moment Pandora knows her name A changer of circumstances presenting new scope She is the Emotion found between Despair and Love She is Elpis - She is Expectation - She IS HOPE
Acknowledgement: My heartfelt thanks to my dear friend Demetrios Trifiatis for your translation of - ‘Do not open the Box’ into ancient Greek ‘Ouchi to koityon anoiksis’. Demetrios is a well known, long term contributor to Poetry Soup and his poems and daily inspirations are a source of encouragement to all. While the music is not music from the Pandora Opera, we felt that more dramatic music was needed to suit the story. O Fortuna –Carmina Burana by Carl Orff, seemed to fit the bill admirably.


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017