Written in The Stars
Two hearts bleached by the sun
A poem's - fallen wish
Of A Life Time
Majestic beams fall from heavens meadow
Two hearts stitched by the constellation
Under the moon's glow
You and I
Gazing up into the Starry Sky
This night we sit under the dazzling diamond dust
Our eyes feel and meet tonight
Stars twinkle a poem of each paired heart
Listen......While......The God's Whisper!
What Is Love?
A wish so gently by the stars
Greeting young couples heart
Poor but, in love
Mockeries of an old shadow
Light embracing this Auspicious moment
Intrigued by sad lovers tale
Two souls forever rich-
Sharing eternity through celestial bliss
Gravitating in the world owned by the stars
A most unfortunate turn of events,
Romeo & Juliet
Collapsing stars rising with a hymn
From the moment they fell
Only to reveal how beautiful--
-- the stars in the dark
Ever so wealthy, around Orion's Belt
Reading notes on every rhyme, every heartbeat
Stars fall every eve entering the atmosphere
Seeping through the soul, making love a part of light
Fireflies Flaring up
A passion that last longer than a moment
Each zodiac unfolds
The stars tell you, who you are
Gaze upon the eternity
Follow the Northern star
Beneath your peaceful splendor
They will bow
Sunset and the evening star,
"My Star Of Love"
Like glitter dust upon a timeless shore
Never will the memory of love be gone
Look up at the stars tonight,
For somewhere out there
I read about YOU in a poem.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips
I close my eyes
I see them all
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens
The stars dim my view
Land becomes an enemy
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
Every discovery started with absolutely
no idea of where to start...
There is not enough time in a lifetime
to measure success...
Just as there is pain in uncertainty,
there is peace in faith...
We thrive in our communal happiness,
we parish in derisive pain...
Death is much less reliable in peace.
In war, we can put up a more
We can waste a lifetime seeking happiness
from someone else's approval...
Our happiness should always be seen
in the kindness of our eyes...
With desires held in check,
less becomes more...
When a smile becomes a laugh,
you've found happiness...
Love is helping someone discover that they
are better than what they thought they were...
Unfathomable contentment is a poet
finishing the last line of a poem...
Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2017
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!
And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying gigolos
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub
I am drunk-- in his eye,
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness
Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name
Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say
"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
"Once upon a midnight Poe"
Underneath the midnight mask, I remove the makeup at last,
The moon is anvil to my mood, mooring along the vacant vast
I lay the Gin and Tonic by the bedside asking for more,
I hear a noise, a lost voice, the echoes of no rejoice,
I couldn't brush the light coming from the cracks under the door
I gave it some thought,
My eyes twinkle, towards the tinsel tiles on the floor
Seemingly the light seemed to be deeming distance of resistance
Curiosity came in crawling and caressing
To sense and taste of sinful skin
Everything then grew thinner than thin
On the spur of the moment, I hear a whisper, my love is near
"Darkness there, and nothing more."
A nerve impulse hits the wall if nothing nary, nevertheless
I sadistically, stagger a sullen movement, even so
In this moment, Edgar Whispered, "nothing more."
Many nights, I dram of demonic demons, demanding answers for
A sad --sadder voice, sits and whines, with the wind
"Merely this and nothing more!"
A notary, nauseate moment, sea sick, shipwreck sensation
Secular suicide spreading like gossip, sailing through my veins
Evilly and twisted, "This it is and nothing more" - that remains
Tweaking and repeating, the speeding of needing
My drugs of pain and passion, to end the delusion
Of the self-inflicted - bruising from the voices of my choices
I hear the whisper, a selfish whisper, asking for Lenore
How many nights, he comes into my room, dress like A Raven
Painted and tainted like the midnight dreary
Reciting the excitement like The Bells, of Annabel, in a rush
Never, never, nameless here forevermore, in my dreams
Under my evil doing skin, like the sum of sin is how it seems
On the nights, my soul mate does not appear,
The anchor drowns and torments me with tears
I travel up in fear, of the fear, when my ghost is not near
Rattling and trembling, by the bedside,
On the grim side of the mental moon, when in gloom
I scrape up my room, screaming to the bleeding,
From my heart, who needs a killing,
From a feeding and the feeling of letting Poe, go!
Inspired by The Raven
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
~twice the beauty~
in the sea of love
reflection of the night
a wave moves
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
I remember living quietly inside these red brick walls,
a soul, wandering alone through those dark, empty halls,
this is the place where I used to rest my weary head,
now you, another poetic heart, are dreaming here instead.
I was just a poet, a soul like you, so do not be afraid,
this is where I once lived, and this is where I stayed,
I want to whisper my secrets to you, late after midnight,
just hear my faded words, and I will remain out of sight.
There was a lonesome time when I wrote poetry, too,
now I am here, to be your muse and inspire you,
100 years ago, I lived on the other side, only now,
I dwell just behind these red brick walls, somehow.
(A sequel to my poem, "These Red Brick Walls")
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
My warm December, unexpectedly,
you graced my world and brought such joy to me.
My warm December, You are something sweet
embracing me. Oh, please do not be fleet!
My warm December, how I wish to keep
you like a lovely dream when I’m asleep.
And how I wish to have you ever near,
my warm December dream so ever dear.
December of my dreams, my youth has passed.
You’re all that’s left, but how long can you last?
Oh, warm December, wrap me like a coat,
inside your ermine dream to ever float.
(This December was very warm and inspired me to write this;
also this is dedicated to my muse!)
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
As I hid behind the darkness of Spring's cool night there she stood dreaming
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2010
Inspired muses reach out from the page
To touch the hearts and minds of those who read
Their presence in descriptive rhymes, a sage
In words of ink your thoughts become a seed
I wonder if it's ever crossed your mind
Someone in years to come might feel your muse
Will it be inspiration they will find
Or will your words just leave them more confused?
And yet we bleed our muse to feel the high
Then cover up the blood in metaphors
We make them laugh, so no one sees us cry
Those fears we hide in words forevermore
But muses rarely ever get the blame
Cause down below, they wisely sign your name.
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
Where did she go...she left me in a spin,
with words fragmented...where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held tight within her arms,
and now I fear I'm left without her charms.
My missing thoughts and words in pieces lay;
without a plan, they'll stay in disarray.
Where did she go, that artist of my soul;
without her lead, no thoughts, no words, no goal.
My muse is on the loose, oh help me, please.
She's gone for good...or is this just a tease?
My muse is on the loose, what happens now...
I'm crushed, forsaken...this I can't allow.
I looked into the den where books are kept;
way high up on the shelves, and then I crept
down cellar stairs among the antiques there,
then up again, climbed second story stair.
I looked in every corner, neath the bed;
no sign of her, but then I soon was led
up to the attic with great window view...
entranced, she sat, and that is when I knew.
My muse was on the loose to find new scenes,
and now beside her, inspiration streams.
The vision of the mountains, valleys, sky...
so beautiful it made me gasp and sigh.
Together we sat weaving thoughts and words,
while hearing the sweet lullaby of birds.
I learned a poet's muse must be set free
sometimes to find new views successfully.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Muse On The Loose
Sponsor: John Lawless
Iambic Pentameter in Couplets
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Ethereal poetic musings create celestial visions,
like a gymnastic athlete with lively colored ribbons,
renewing life as circles of light swirl into exotic symbols.
Lights flicker as cameras flash to perpetuate the scene,
holding spectators captive with imagery astounding.
Celestial visions overwhelm sensations ne’er forgotten.
5 June 2016
Inspiration: Visual #1
For the contest, The Best Of 6
sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Voted POTD 7 June 2016
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
On summer hills I watched you
I know you watched me too
Every night you waited for me
Every night I came to you
From shallow oceans I have risen
On silver chariots traveled high
Crossed everlasting spaces
which filled your empty sky
Soothing manna showered your lips
from the radiance of my light
Crazy love I poured in your heart
on each lone and serene night
Humble shepherd boy Endymion
You haven't chosen death,nor life
In eternal sleep you've slumbered
and made of me your wife
You must have been a poet
with a will to live our dream
with a want to preserve passion
for the last abiding crescent
of the evanescent moon Selene.
Inspired by the Greek myth of Selene,goddess of the moon and Endymion
and by beautiful poetry.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014
Spill Ink—the poets’ timeless warp and woof;
Signifies our mantra beyond reproof;
Late at night as poets struggle to write;
Our Muse enchants poets to such delight;
Poets seek tone and tenor for a splash,
And images and nuance for a dash.
"Spill Ink!” Poets cry seeking perfection!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 18, 2014) (Rhyme Septet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
~JSLambert does not (currently:) use, or encourage hallucinogenic drug use.
Telepathic psilocybin prescription erasing elastic depression. Competition
wanes, just when nocturnal emission drains. Lifted poetic wing clipping. This
party only makes sense to those encrypted with unconsciousness. Scalpel in
hand, methodical break and entering, break dancing meninges remove
portions of brain doin' the bitchin'. Ah, this immaculate incision!
Lucid dreams vacating turnstile vibrations, deteriorating horrific screams
douching eardrums. Ultraviolet eyes fortified by THREES---Mind-Body-Soul,
rolled up into one huge trinity.
I'm moving asses fantastic. Call me the "Proctologist of Poetry".
Electrify words, regurgitate, choke and vomit the crock of crap-ola. Venture
down butter slides until the sky goes red.
Still too uptight to listen? (don't pretend in comments that you read this
entire poem if ya' didn't) glisten, be kind, rewind, let liquid swords chop away
fat weighing upon your forces. Once doors of perception swing eyes wide
open. Devour the false to magnify hate. I love you the same. I love you, never
in vain. Hearing your verse lifts a heavy curse carried in shame.
As a child, I had no fear of apocalypse, or world hunger. No, phobia meant
running out of words to give, to receive, from lips. It haunts me to this day.
Tho' the bliss of poetic language's kiss, soothes the cries. Altruistic sighs! Now
we dance! Dancing Harmony times three equals harmonize! Tour your Third
Eye, yir' Karma-eyes!
To the heads that said, "NO CAN DO!"- We've weaved advice for you. File
illicit deeds away, for in dreams we are connected, Siamese twins, at the
wrist, spellbound paradise! Let go of doubt, negativity= below zero. Work it
out! Crash whiplash angles 'till friggin' rectangles dangle through
kaleidoscopes of style. Poet trees smear the cosmos. Let go! THREE will never
be alone. Bestow the glow, thorazine vapors escape secret tombs where
peroxide cleans wounds. Fusing two Toots in common with Nefertiti. THREES.
Elicit illicit lucid dreams gushing ejaculatory melodic screams. Orgasmic
spasms...vas deferens between actual sacks and Staff of Ra polluted sticky
streams. Peddle the bicycle high, annihilate attrition, like motivated Mormons,
door to door men, on a worldwide mission. I love you, I miss you...witness the
vision...alive in the schism!
*credit A.Horovitz, A.Yauch, M.Diamond, Billy Corgan
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014
Uninvited you come, oh Erato*, muse of poetry, the
Majority of times,
Knocking at my soul’s door at any given moment
Insisting to let you in, your message to deliver
Disregarding at what state my soul is and if she could
With your request comply
Oh, muse of poetry, when with my soul’s inspiration
You are flirting all the time
Whispering in her ears words of wisdom, coming
From your divine essence
My soul, mesmerized, tries the words of wisdom,
Lingering in her depths, again to remember**
A difficult task it is indeed, I admit,
For the language of heavens that my soul, once
Knew very well, now she has forgotten**
Because of her association with her mortal body
For that reason, oh divine muse,
Be patient with her and give her just
A little more time
The time that my soul needs, divine muse, to learn
Or rather to remember
How to talk and to express herself in writing the
Way you would like:
In accordance with universe’s harmony and
Its eternal laws
When this blessed hour comes, my soul able
Would be, poems to compose
Her writings, her creations and her poetic epics,
The work of you would be, oh muse,
No credit would, my soul, claim
She knows very well that only an instrument she is,
Oh muse, into your godly embrace,
Just to be used according to your desire
Because only you, oh muse of poetry, know
The universe’s poetic language should be used
And how, in verse, it has to be
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 SEPTEMBER 2014
* Erato, one of the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (memory ).
She is the Muse of lyric poetry, love poetry and marriage songs.
** Socrates, Greek philosopher 469-399, believed that the soul knows the truth but because of her association with the body, after her incarnation, she forgets therefore what we call learning is in reality a process of remembering as it is indicated also by the name of Erato’s mother, Mnemosyne, (memory).
A poet should always follow Erato’s instructions that comes in the form of inspiration, in order to reach the desired result. This is because erato’s knowledge is unadulterated for it is divine!
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014
My melancholy turns to gold dust
in your soft and tender hands
upon your fingers I scatter my life
my love remains clasped in your hands
now I am a vial of cologne, emptied...
I yearn to see your lissome creeper
how it clings to cracks on the walk
well, just as it entwines the cement altar
Mi amor, that is how I yearn to embrace your heart
I used to stumble, now I am sustained in you...
This night I yearn and sigh for you
to see you sleep, hands on your chest
sinking into our bed like rosy fruit
from smooth pastures into the depths of our mattress
as the air enters your chest and raises it chastely...
Amante, steal away to me in the night
we will see how peacefully the moon rays
create quiet waves without unsettling the hush
just as it passes into the gulf is the way
I yearn to sink to the very bottom of your soul...
Fly to me from your snow white orchards
you love is ever so immaculate
my naked soul will tremble in your hands...
Copyright © Ken Carroll | Year Posted 2013
I see in creases no others found
where souls seem low
and duty bound
where sparkle waits
in dreamlike states
amid anxious eyes
here her smile lies
I see in darkness under guise of moon
where beauty moves
no heart's immune
where kindness roams
alive in poems
held deep inside
my muse resides
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
Co-authored by: Teddy Kimathi
Sometimes I find bliss
lying on a carpet of grass,
and gazing at the moon -
wondering whether it knows
that stars surround it every time;
wondering whether it knows some
people have worshiped it for eons
wondering whether it knows I'm
staring at it......
Entrapped by beauty
enslaved to everlasting solitude
ages come and go
the peace of time remains; to the
--desolate surface of the barren night
wondering whether it knows,
I'm mesmerized by its natural state
with Solace to the open mind
my spirit that of a recluse
Wondering whether it knows
the silent open sky is the enigma
emerging from beyond, finding bliss,
wondering whether it knows I'm
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2015
Between the trees tall figures
Sisters hidden by perfect mirrors
Behind shivering trees pale and drawn
Shadows snicker at glories dawn
Fairies draw near flickering sheer petal wings
By quivering glimmer perfect mirrors swing
A verdant sea of cushion ferns and bushes
Admiring absolute spring beauty wishes
A magical playful fairy
Clustering ferns trace
Gossamer wings case
A shadow that goes in and out a pearl of merry
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
Her fit and fluttering form behaves,
As sunlight frolicking atop the waves ...
No heavenly music is yet as sweet,
As the song she dances ... with her feet.
** For the "Seven Line Max" Poetry Contest, Rick Parise, Sponsor. **
Copyright © Greg Barden | Year Posted 2017
To the blank of the page of my book.
My ever present sailing boat.
Makes me journey through seas which I look
and choose the fish as I take note
of your waves, incomplete and stark-white.
Replete of space you promptly prick,
Her my muse. She – awake – starts to fight.
She kicks and twists; my will’s made weak.
I let go. What to do? So she wins,
And I, pick up the pen and draw,
Or perhaps make a sketch of my sins,
Or even scribble something raw.
Disappeared; no more gaps. A full page.
I look ahead and see a board.
Teacher frowns, but you’re gone – my great mage.
Sad truth: my concentration soared.
Copyright © Timoteo Neves | Year Posted 2016
Always Something (Left) To Say
We riddle with change in pocket corners,
sit alone and sing an afternoon away,
nothing but the violin strings
and ukulele play.
Middle of this median, stuck on this border,
with you, sit and sing an afternoon away.
Everything but the engine moves
and I'm sure, had I not met you,
I'd never have something to say.
You throw coins in the starlit air,
Tuck your strings under your arm.
The sage sings for us in solitude:
His voice fades in the spruce
Together with his laughter.
And had I not met you.
Had I not been here this day,
Had I not sang the day away,
I'd miss the muse that's you,
And a sage in solitude.
February 18, 2017
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
Let me be just dessert
With your plate so full
I can sweeten your day
While I fatten your soul
Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017
In advance, I wish to heal the mind, body, and soul
Thanking all God's creatures
Coating all my expressions from-
-Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Conceal every worry,
Focus on the goodness that fills my spirit with thankfulness
And, well, honored comments.
This is a rich tribute to:
All Poetry Soup Poets, with grateful and appreciating hearts
Enjoy the time, you give each and every Poets
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013