Best Platform Poems
The only soup, which blends the flavors from every nook of the world.
I too am an ingredient and I feel proud.
Not a pro, still today I count my writes.
I thankyou all for this wonderful platform:)
To my surprise,
No family member ever admires,
What I write and how I describe.
Neither I am an English student.
Nor am I a professional versifier.
Nah! I don’t even know the genre and type.
It is just Poetry Soup, which strives to hone,
My every thought, expression and song!
Every time I open to see how many views, how many likes.
I feel glad when my mentors cherish and recognise!
Yes, they are always by my side!
It’s not for fun that I write,
Poetry teaches me how to appreciate and empathise.
Let’s me share my laughs and hide my cries!
Helps to express during lows and highs!
Feel and sense the unseen,
Gather courage to express and mean,
From vocabulary to character, poetry adds a beautiful sheen.
Quotes…Stories….Blog…..Poetry; choose as per your forte!
A beautiful fragrant bouquet.
An ambiance which positively motivates.
Poetry soup deserves encomiums and accolades.
I said I'm on a train to meet you,
But you won't be waiting there,
I look around the platform,
I guess you really don't care.
I used to ask for you to be here,
But now I just want your call back,
But I can't find you here,
So I guess it's time to pack.
I drag my suitcase along,
And wonder through the streets,
I swear I heard your laugh in the air,
My heart skipped a beat.
I'm on a train to leave you,
Why weren't you waiting there,
Platforms still empty,
And you still don't care.
Corn silk flags the wind
Sunflowers dance the road's ditch
sun falls down the sky
leave me end of day wonder
tip like a wink over pond.
Sheri Fresonke Harper
The world is a platform
And the people the audience
Waiting for you to perform
You are a star
Your inspiration their reform
Hope you could do your best
Stand up and be counted
Be the first
There are difficulties
But forget the worst
The world is your guest
So go higher
Yeah higher than mount Everest
For if you perform right
You steal the spot light
And you don't just win
The people but their heart
The audience cheers you up
Like you are the king
And all the women
Dieing to be your queen
Money is not the thing
You started lately
But you are doing greatly
Forget about the rest
And do your best
*Suicide*
Suicide is not the answer,
But there's no option..
People fight for there stand,
People fight within themself..
Nothing been on there side,
None is there to support them..
Suicide is not the answer,
But there's no option..
Life is just a race,
Love, care, respect are left behind..
Blaming insulting are trending,
As money can buy love, respect, care..
Suicide is not the answer,
But there's no option..
People say how coward he is,
when he was alive none supported..
He fought hard,
He fought with himself..
Suicide is not the answer,
But there's no option..
broken heart been heard louder,
Now money speak louder..
It's a fight within himself,
he is a fighter..
Not a loser,who fought till his last breath..
_veer
Drama on Social Media
With every passing day
and every passing hour
world comes closer,
globe contracts
with silvery lustre
of social media.
Some, call this media
a social monster,
others, addicted badly,
few, known for moderate use
for purpose and reason.
It is the platform of continuous drama
of uniting friends and foes,
art and the artists,
leaders and the bidders,
entertainers and commoners,
gossipers and chatters.
It’s the platform of melodrama
bringing angel and fairy closer
displaying their lovely chats to public,
making tantrums and shouts in public,
their cat & dog match viewed widely,
entertaining the world of netizens.
And, one day..
angel and fairy
bid farewell
closing all their accounts
blocking and quitting social media
to end one more social media drama.
Soon, the new accounts were
opened,
fairy is seen with another angel,
angel is seen with other fairy
to begin one more entertaining
drama on social media.
******
I stand ’tween the rails looking back at the gate
With lips pursed I swallow and choke,
And I thank God that I’m still standing alive
Not going from platform to smoke.
Not going from platform to smoke in a blink
Or just in an hour and a half,
“We really have got this machine running smoothly.”
The camp commandant would laugh.
The camp commandant would laugh in his house
Which was white and just behind the hedge.
He and his family could just see the chimneys
And smoke past their window ledge.
I can just see the ledge of the window
With our hands wrapped for Tifillin prayer,
An act of worship never allowed
To those who were previously there.
Those who were previously there came by train,
In a transport they came every day,
Crammed in goods vans that slowed to a halt,
Confused and afraid in dismay.
Confused and afraid and in dismay
They got down and formed sorting lines,
Those who went right were sentenced to death,
To the left for some other designs.
And the stench of the smoke was appalling
It wafted and hung in the air,
Indicting all who worked in that place
Of the wickedness that they all share.
I stand ’tween the rails looking back at the gate
With lips pursed I swallow and choke,
And I thank God that I’m still standing alive,
Not going from platform to smoke.
ART, MY PLATFORM
I art, therefore, I am
Let your life be your Art
Something you paint with your heart
Taking care to make every part, a symphony of colors
The way your feet lovingly graze the earth
Like paint stroking on the canvas
Sketching the soil, each step with prudence
You were born with this Craft, this inner beauty
You don’t need to collect praise
For that Art fills up from inside
Let your life be your Art
Moving and being moved
The totality of mindful moments
Continue to paint your actions unexposed
For it to be, a masterpiece to share and behold.
Can I believe that these feelings can turn into a beautiful thing?
That after the storm, I can see the rainbow glowing again?
Just melt into grace
Cry, scream and laugh
This is where you begin, again
You’re strong enough to let love in, so don’t let it go
Running gently, Screams of laughter
Dancing stars, my golden heart
My sands of time will bring about inspiration
Using all that God has gifted me with
To recreate the promised
I hope my life is never desolate
That it lacks art
That would be the only poverty
I would find intolerable
La vie est une oeuvre d’Art
Un reflet de toi, et un voyage que tu dois suivre
And on this weary platform love is seldom found,
to boast of love that's certain,
a love that's so profound.
On the wall the scribblings of all we feel and do,
sharing good adventure even a joke or two.
And if they find their lover
they all disappear,
but some will still be scrolling,
posting they are here.
A pizza; lovers, share for two,
and sip the curious wine,
So good and wholesome feels this love
they gossip down the vine
And on the platform made for two,
the lovers wear the crown.
For love that's true, and real will never let you down.
Insufficient Containerization
(My Campaign Platform for 2016)
Litter is out of control in these here United States
An un-Godly blight on the landscape, home of the free
This is a disgrace and shame on this fine country
What do other nations think?
Why; they think we are a bunch of heathen pigs
I will not promise a chicken in every pot
Or a VW in every garage to drive
We suffer from insufficient containerization
A criminal crime of the dirtiest kind
As your next president in two thousand sixteen
I vow to clean up this catastrophe with containers
There will be a trash receptacle in every school
Every business and home and on the moon
Trash cans will be strapped on the backs of all citizens
Visitors will wear plastic bags as their only apparel
Wars and all other matters will have to wait
Let’s clean up the world before it’s too late
Insufficient containerization must stop today
Vote for me in two thousand sixteen
Trash cans are your salvation
And I am the only solution
One million memories are circling around my form,
Shouting and laughing and complaining just being,
Average cause its expected and planned just easy.
I am shaking, exhausted and drenched in bags, but happy,
Leaning now, alone, against the comforting wall,
On grey platform 3,
Waiting, with shadows, on the marauding, hollering shell,
To take me home away from homeless hell.
People, reduced to sensations; bumps and touches
But shadows,
And the beat of my approval still thumps, in the mind.
Smells become the birth certificates of the blurry,
Shampoo and deodorant and cologne, past me they hurry.
You can taste their lives, just open your eyes.
Happy people, unhappy humans, defeated beings
Bumping, embracing and colliding
In years of frenzied history,
As people run along windows,
Humans wave goodbye and
Beings vanish in the steam of memories.
I confiscate their lives and make them my own,
As my imagination exults in life’s candy store.
My lungs tremble with the beauty of beings.
Expelling the defeated, no room for weakness.
The resilient and me, have already swallowed
Plenty of white teeth in our quest for strength,
I am never alone, but rarely followed.
His nails are curled like snails
Beard, wet as a net failed to bail
Eyes looked sad as a fish
Having nothing in front to wish.
He murmured something to do bushes
Feeling was awkward to the rumors
Muttering meanings to the gushes
Sweating salts to the toes.
Waving hands to the 'odds'
Weeping eyes smiled to the rocks
Was in chains of iron
Free of bounds of bitter strain.
Sane, he was a judge in jury,
Destined to be chained in 'fury'.
Litty Lokanath
i need to know what's going on
we're barren over here, yet over there
look at them smugly reading the NEWS
'can you throw one over pal?'
he pretends not to hear me
and looks down the platform
he's pretending to see if his train is about to
arrive, thomas and friends, and it won't be
here soon, so wind it in
i give up and wonder why
platform 1, surely the pinnacle,
has been abandoned of any recreation
although next to my son
is a miniscule glass bottle of whisky
which implies someone was having fun without me there
has peace been achieved?
has the new plastic waste initiative justified government intervention?
how many wickets do we need this morning?
i yell these at the man over on platform 2
i am then taken away
and hope to be a headline in the morning
The semantics always seem the same
While waiting for the morning train
Sat on the platform draped in rain
Just another statistic numbers
Emotionless state of zombie slumber
Wrapped up heads in over-sized earphones
And sun designer indoor glasses
Bough on a phone bought into by the masses
Only to be tracked and profiled into classes
Surf through a tide of drawn empty faces
He's A Pedophile President
In love with himself, and the Republican Party
He says healthcare is not for me, cause' I have cancer and that I should just die
I say wow to the Economic recovery, more tax cuts for the wealthy whore's
trump says jobs, low pay, part time, no benifits, all money to the wealthy
Get outta here with womans rights, let's get back to the fifty's
And civil rights was fine and dandy back there in the fifty's,
And the gay's, they should go back into hiding like it was back in the fifty's
Social Security was taxes paid, to give to wall Street, not to help the poor or the disabilty
And energy, frack baby frack, so go have a seat and stop sniffling
The environment is just great, destroy it one well at a time
The National debt is ********, just cut programs and buy more weapons, that'll be just fine
Donald knows wall Street Reform, just give the banks all of control
And we no being a moron is great, unending debt, with Donald as our pedophile President, In control of our now white country
I just want to be a moron, cause morons are a blast
The Republican platform will bring back white power, from the days of our past