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Best Poetess Poems | Poetry

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

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The Best Poetess Poems

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

The Fallen Poet

(The Fallen Poet)

Shadows, fall from the east
Winter show, white meadows,
Compelling words lost, in a silent world
Beautiful, Bloomingdale is how it goes
Apocalypto-- my very own limbo
Alone in a field of corpses-
A field of men, women and broken pens, 
Images of angels fallen to their knees

A piece of space, of solitude
The sun a wasted disease
The more I prayed the worse I felt,
Lord, I came before - broken and alone

Heaven sees the secret inside
Lost I may be, yet you see
Offended me, I no longer sing
I wait till all is asleep
My ink is dry, a broken poet, with nowhere to go
Lost in the shadows of snow, frozen like ice
A sheet of paper, with no meaning, no words

My friends, my comrades, how easily one forgets

Like a game of chess, I panicked
Made all the right and wrong moves
I lost my way, staggered across
Love comes and love goes
My heart weaker than, weak
I don't know how I survived before, 
After turning the other cheek
I was no longer whole, forsaken myself endlessly 
I was lost, could not even count on myself

Guidance, I ignored no one believed what's become of me
Alone, I stood in old footsteps after falling down

At times end, I found nothing could put me back where I belong
It's time to get back on offense,
Walk through the new, refreshing old footprints

~*~ 


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014


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Swan Ballerina Pages

Like delicate white swans were they, the white swans of a grand ballet - ballerinas waiting in a row underneath the candlelight’s soft glow. But what are ballerinas with no parts to make them dance? The poet gives them hearts! Inking pirouettes and sautés onto white, she gave them words to spin them into night. Arabesques that her pen on each one pressed made a woeful tale beautifully expressed. The dance was finishing by early dawn with one last white swan to be written on. The poetess, now drained, could do no more. Her eyelids closed; the swans fell to the floor. Fluttering, they fell, all in disarray. Pure white no more, ink-stained they would stay. Tears the poet cried are now living in each swan. Might they be displayed even when she passes on? The poetess who let her feelings spill created swans now black, yet lovely still. Written May 25, 2017 for a Contest of by Broken Wings. This also seemed to be my best one according to Soup members, and I felt very inspired by the theme Constance gave us.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017


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The Poetess

She feels the wind of summer’s soft caress

and listens to the magic in its sound.

How perceptive is the poetess

who senses nature’s beauty all around.

She finds a place to write in tranquil hours.

Then from her thoughts bloom words like pretty flowers.


June 18, 2018 for Silent One's 'When line SIX is a perfect FIX' Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2018


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LIBERTY OF EXPRESSION is HERE

Why I am here in Poetrysoup?

I like a seed carelessly thrown 
upon dirty solid black, brown rocks,
I strive, thrived to grow 
despite big rough blocks..

words... phrases... sentences...
They are screaming to be released
or climbing to burst in climax seize
or if not drifting upon crinkled seas

but how can I? 
When will I?
If within
minute by minute
salty prints roll down my cheeks
caused by bitter-lava  of emotions.

Heart is in state of stroke:
my mouth now mute
my lips lethargic to speak
yet my fingers found the head of a captain:

  wandering, wandering
  'til a shoreline glistens
  in the name of hope

Pressed. Pushed, 
I puddle anew the currents,
nothing but my desire to share;
to live, to be happy, to be healed,
to pour safely  fears, frustrations;
trials, dreams that I always pray.

Stabbed from behind,
bang and troubled by shark sharp words,
the powerhouse I built 
slowly, slowly fell to short.

Curiosity ignited my interest,
I attempt to pass a five stanza rhyme verse
eyes shut, ears closed to comments.
Not long, 
sleeping poems from my head popped,
they escaped

  teasing and tickling,
  unafraid, I bite every challenge
  swimming, soaking, diving deep.

Seven months until I taste glory
excitement crawl and peak
nervous yet I...

   I clamor to learn,
   I clamor to move on,
   I clamor to sing,
   I clamor to run,
   I clamor to fly,
   I clamor to soar

from the bluest ocean to darkest clouds,
from lair of lilacs to fruitless air,
from reality to ecstatic speech of fantasy
with pinching memories of past rejections, lost love 

   I hide behind the mask of metaphors
   I tease torrid with personification, 
   I sassy seduce using alliteration
   I heighten arousal with my pose, my muse
   I recite in my own right the rhymes of my soul

Ring! Ring! Ring
allow my poetry  be the bells
clanging blues echoing hues containing feelings.
Permit the tinkles permeate, 
impregnate your thoughts.
Freedom of expression, 
this you and I yearn.

Here in Poetrysoup liberty, I did earn!

Supporters, friends, challengers, lover I gained
yet these I never ask. I never expect.
They landed softly to my open palms,
I accepted. I treasure them.

Finally, my congested suffering heart 
today, beats systematically:

   gratitude, I can only inhale
   smile, I can only show
   prayers, I can only blow...

I know, 
respect, peace and order we all want.
Your verses and so is mine will be of powder rust, dust
but am humbled to be connected.
Pages I will leave here are my immortalized sentiments,
I do believe not all may agree because...
   
   Each one is unique
   Each one has a style
________________________________________________________
8:21 pm, December 26, 2015





Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015


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A Wordless Sky

if i don't write i'm doomed to die
and lie beneath a wordless sky
a silent corpse, unseen, unheard
alive yet dead-  is that absurd?

if rhymes don't paint a rainbow hue
and lines don't tempt with taste of dew
if words can't clothe just what I feel
this thing called life must not be real

without a dose of poetry 
what will become of you and me?
just members of the walking dead
we march each one with empty head

a lifeless, joyless, hopeless mass
who try to make the hours pass
without the ecstasy of rhyme
to be alive is just a crime

for life without the words I write
is dull and drear, like starless night
like endless, tortured misery
is life without my poetry

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2018


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I Write A Poem

I write a poem that will entertain the world.
A poem that will fade someone's fear.
The one that will inspire you to smile.
Something that can make you out of mind.

I write a poem for lovers and friends,
To describe the feelings, how is love moves the earth.
A poem that encourages deads to live.
To keep the sun shines over the fields.

I write a poem that makes the whole world read.
A sentimental of a heart from lover who left.
The adventure of a man who travelled the lands and seas.
The agony of a woman who lost her baby.

I write a poem....
Until my ink gets dried.
Until the sun meets the horizon.
'til there's no tears fall in my eyes.

I write a poem...
To fall in love once more.
To hold the hand of a new lover,
To see the stars, the moon in full bloom.

I write a poem....
Until the last leaf falls in tree.
Then my life fades in the shadow of eve.
And every memories be left in dreams.

I write a poem....
Please care to comment and sealed with  a kiss.
Choose one or two to be your favourites.
And dont forget, fave the author of masterpiece. =D



** 2nd Place Winner in Poet Destroyer aka Linda's Contest: Any Poem #28 **



Copyright © Aiyah Torres | Year Posted 2014


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Let My Quill Always Write Even If Unheard

A very wise woman once said I must write just for me, let there be no other reason for e x p r e s s i n g my soul- For I’ve l o n g e d for this passion to continue for eternity, and at my worst is when my journal seems to be full. LET my pen proclaim my adoration for only my heart, let my verses s c r e a m my insight for only my eyes to see- If there are souls who would like to t e a r my words apart, then I shall sit back and let it go very calm and quietly. No other can determine MY worth as a poetess, I am who I am and happen to appreciate my benediction- Tonight I will s o f t l y lay in bed and sincerely digress on the meaning of what my QUILL releases without restriction. I may not be famous or hold a popular moment in the light, I may not be the best at every l i t t l e thing that I do- I can sure be stubborn and I’ll admit, not always right, but s e r v i n g my internal purpose I shall ALWAYS continue. My pen loves to rhyme and my parchment loves my pen, I’ve become a woman with whom has great worth- Then please tell me why I seem to get so upset when, I am condemned for what I WRITE when f e e l i n g at my worst. I am a child of God who pours sunshine upon every word I write, if there are others who don’t see the value in my words- I will no longer be losing any more p e a c e f u l sleep at night, and I will continue to write just for me, EVEN IF UNHEARD. Written By: Laura Loo Date Written: September 19, 2016


Copyright © Lu Loo | Year Posted 2016


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Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013


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Little ol' me


I wish I could write
like those others before me,
Byron and Shelley and old Edgar Poe

Flowery phrases
Thy love unforgetting,
chasing a raven as ink tends to flow

Follow a sidewalk
in Silverstein footsteps,
sit neath a tree as the apples appear

Doth O’ my feelings
O’er Midsummer stanzas
Dream thee melodic as words of Shakespeare

Maybe some thoughts
in a past tense creation,
deeper in meaning like Sylvia Plath

Or Robert Frost
and the nature he touches,
meandering off through the trees down a path

Emily Dickinson,
aprons and daisies,
words overflowing the tea kettle rim

And let’s not forget
“The man”, Leonard Cohen,
what I would give if I could write like him

Neruda, Longfellow,
Kipling and cummings
so many thoughts in their own point of view

Taking our minds
to assorted locations
every piece speaks of something quite new

So many poets
who weave inspiration,
any or all I can just hope to be

But here I am
just writing my verses,
I guess I am stuck being little ol’ me



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



And here’s a few more,
some you might know
Who inspire all
when their ink it does flow

Charmaine, Paloma,
Heidi and Dee
Victor and Daniel
Catie, Laniey

Holly, Alexis,
Mystic and Rick
Maurice, The Seeker
Eve and Tim Smith

Arthur and Freddie
James, Jo and Jan
Nette, Laura Loo
Broken Wings, San

And so many others
I’ve met on this site
Who each day inspire
this poet to write

If I have forgotten anyone, I apologize. I am still quite new here.



Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016


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Tit for Tat Poetry

you read out of obligation
a tit for tat consolation
a "thank you for your visit" affirmation

it's cool, this unspoken rule
I do it too, so what’s new?
It's only being civil
community code of camaraderie
who can break free?
It needs to be done
loyalties need to be won
so do the comment hit and run
then on to another one

I appreciate that, truth be told
this give and take system should hold
on poetic pleasantries, I am sold
“Reciprocity” is gold

oh, but that's not quite same
as being sure that you came
because I'm a favorite name
in your poet hall of fame

Come goaded by greed
Needing each word for your feed
Voyeuristic as I bleed
You need my pain to be freed

Come craving my rhyme fix
The potency of this mix
My poetic party tricks
Lines that give you the kicks

I'm a poet pillaged by pain
who's been baptized by rain
holding on to the sane
let me battle your bane

Read me for you know
You need me to grow
Dip in the stream of this flow
Words above, words below

Read and blaze in the fire
word kindling of your desire
let these flames take you higher
as they make each thought perspire

Obligation is overrated
Though my words might be dated
the ideas?  NOT antiquated
to existence they’re related

Come visit me
Come here so you’ll see
Passion infused poetry
let it meld you and me

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017


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MY SOUPER GIRLFRIENDS

I met them once I landed in a place, 
they called it haven, a soiree place. 
Where people are nice,kind and cool. 
Some are young, some are....never mind. 
They're awesome people!

I first met this blonde lady,thought she's only twenty.
She did refused, said she's almost a mother to me. 
I beg to disagree,'cos she's more than just a mom. 
She's a bestfriend, she's wonderwoman. 
She lives in Norway,Anne Lise Andresen was her name. 

There goes a new avatar,who came to visit on my land. 
She's wearring sunglasses,but can't hide the beauty from behind.
Then I found out lately, she doesn't just own a pretty face.
She is the sexiest and hottest momsie,rockin' up poetry.
She's a real poet master,SkAT A.,that's her name! 

One day I sat down and read some poetries, 
So delightful,inspiring, and awesome pieces. 
I got struck to what I've found. 
A Filipina who's writing with charms, 
Her poems are incredibly great, 
She's Nette Onclaud, the goddess poet! 

I came to land another page, thought at first that's a cage. 
Of a tigress with full of angst and strength. 
I must admit, though I was afraid, I admire all the pieces she had made. 
She left the table and threw the soup,and think tha'ts the last time I'll see her poem. 
But with revenge she went back home, and send me greetings that I treasured. 
With friendly comment I came to know, this tigress is tame and a sweet person. 
Who is she?...the everbody's love and favorite, Poet Destroyer!

As time goes by, and my journey went long.
I had to passed in different stations.
I came to know so many beautiful people,
So kind and thoughtful, their arts are treasures.

There came to visit my poem one day, 
Though full of greiving,they cheered me so well.
They are Mary Jo ,Eileen, F.J. ,Vie and Shadow.
The women who are pride of this site.
The pretty ladies who always been there to lift you high.

Above all these awesome experience,
Is to know the people from my own motherland.
My country fellas, so sweet,cool and nice.
They are the crystal flowers glisten brightly like a star.
They are Leonora, Maria Paz, Nikko and Carole...

My day became brighter, you light the path I walk.
Everytime your greetings knock on my door.
Allow me to do the honor to thank you guys.
And let you all know how thankful I am.
My dream has came true, because of this site.










Copyright © Aiyah Torres | Year Posted 2014


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Lucilla Smiled

Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. This lovely lady I met here who graced us with her sunny ways until her very final days became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry. Her words of wisdom now can flow in heaven, where all angels go. This lovely lady I met here became for me somebody dear. Although her smile I could not see, Lucilla smiled through poetry! RIP Lucilla Carrillo - Written in her memory Oct 2014 For the Sonnetina Rispetto Contest of Dr. Ram Mehta


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014


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Jan Allison


Jan Allison


There is a great gal on our ‘Soup’
Renowned in our poetry group
She’s ready to show
How our poems glow
With comments that give us the scoop.

Sincere as she gives us her view
Of writes we submit, old or new
No sooner we post
She’s there like our host
With greetings to look forward to.

Her poetry’s lovely to read
No matter what subject indeed
Some words leave us sad
Some words make us glad
And some provide lessons to heed.

So friendly to all on our site
We love her with all of our might
Although she has woes
Her care she bestows
On others to help with their plight.


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

~1st Place~
Contest: Write a Poem
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged: 02/11/2015




--------------------------------------------------------------------



Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


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Muse Blues

I got the Muse Blues
Where did my muse go
I got the muse blues
Tell me where did my muse go
Maybe down 'n Louisiana
Hangin' out with my friend Flo

I got the Muse Blues
My heart in a rage
I got the muse blues
My heart in a rage
Sayin' if muse try to act like Flo
Well He's gonna be upstaged

I got the muse blues
He's back but kinda sick
I got the muse blues
He's back but kinda sick
He tried to dance with Flo
And got his old butt kicked

I got some muse queues
If muse ever leaves again
I got some muse queues
If muse ever leaves again
Steer clear of Louisiana
And my pinnacle poetess friend




Protected by a pet Cheetah




Copyright © Chuck Melugin | Year Posted 2014


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Pride Of Poetry

The Pride Of Poetry

Tribute To
Kim Patrice Nunez @ poetrysoup.com

Like sunrise in the morning
or darkness of the night.
Even shadows hearken to her
when she sits down to write.

Oceans all grow restless
there's a stirring up above.
Clouds move so the moon can see
as she writes words of love.

Storms are brewing in the skies
her anger's not forbidden.
Be grateful for the skies of blue
on days her anger's hidden.

Tonight today is almost gone.
She's poetry's long lost lover.
When this day is over
she'll sit and write another.

With mountain tops and butterflies
and valleys filled with springs.
Lovers lost along the way
and sometimes angels wings.

As she looks through eyes of love
 and only she can see.
What each new day's going to bring
the pride of poetry.

Edwin C Hofert


Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015


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Tribute to Linda Poet Destroyer A

Ay Chihuahua what a hot enchilada

Beguiling in her Dallas Cowboys letterman jacket

Flicker starlight in her eyes angel in beauty 

Raven waves of silk long hair 

Will torture your soul for just a small taste of her
 
A girly girl born to embraces her femininity, but a free spirited mujer, 

Burning the darkness riding her Unicorn

Through the calm majestic presence of the night

As music follows through the sky with a thirst of her poetry

A woman with lots of passion, sweet wishes, and wings for the night


7/17/2016 

A Tribute to a lovely person and poetess. 
Mujer- Spanish for woman


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016


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Our PD

Our wonderful and ever-present PD. What a talented writer! You don’t know poetry if you haven’t seen her work. She has been around here for such a long time. If you’re new to this site, go to see what our PD has written. What fine examples she displays! Her words and lines will amaze! Let’s hope she sticks around where her fine work can be found. May 19, 2013 For the Appreciation (In Honour of PD) contest by Abdulhafeez Oyewole


Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013


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Poetess

Poetess

i am the twisted sister of a twister
lava lady just learning to boil
my words erupt 
yes they are mine
no matter the language
age or blasphemy
i will bid and they will obey

the garnet blood of passion
be it love or otherwise 
will spread its intoxicating infusion
to heat the feeble mind to intensities
that will make the priest weep in his vows
and down in the dives where the hip grinding
sweat soaking miasma of lust cradles
blues will be reborn 

I am the queen bee dripping with honeyed pearls
she who scratches with a stick in mud 
plays keys full of white lightening
here to spread sweet hot spice
on a gray woolsock world.


Copyright © PATRICIA CRESSWELL | Year Posted 2017


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A Poets Heart

The words of my Kentucky rose do shine,
their country love is like vintage wine.
Every day that does go by,
her poetic heart shall come to fly.

Her heart shall fly in the Heaven's above,
spreading forth her words of country love.
My heart of mine does ever see,
that one day she may not come back to me.

Her heart will take off on golden wing,
a song of country love is the song it will sing.
All her loving words shall come by choice,
they shall be caressed by her country voice.
In my heart she shall always stand,
in my forever I shall hold her hand.
Such country love does burn in her heart,
from the poetic rose she can never part.
In majestic dream her words do go on,
They shine in my night til the last star is gone.

Her heart shall fly in the Heaven's above,
Spreading forth her words of country love.
My heart of mine does ever see,
that one day she may not come back to me.

In the heart of this poet there is an undying flame,
A love never diminished comes ever forth again.
In the poetic heart that ever burns,
my Kentucky rose she always returns.
A poets heart it shall always stay,
even though sometimes the words seem far away.
So fly free poetess in your world of dreams
I await you in the heart of moonbeams.

(For My Beautiful Brown Eyes Series)



Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2018


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The Statue

A hand of fine art
carving impressions of heart
beauty to embalm.
A creation glorified
inspiring while life denied.


Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018


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Inspiration, A Gift From Sweet Emily's Hands

Inspiration, A Gift From Sweet Emily's Hands
      (A Tribute To Emily Dickinson)

Sweet Emily, you inspired me
to paint scenes of life's epic seas,
in dreams soar to paradise fields
rise up to love, lower my shields.

Inking rhyming verses to please
you sat so perfectly at ease,
your poems marvels to behold
you wrote of love and life so bold.

True beauty splashed out in black ink
gifting words that cause us to think,
good and bad in equal measures
life sad, yet seeking not treasures.

Compelling to the reader's mind
free, seeking no return in kind,
your golden pen, your mighty brush
brilliant art painted, without rush.

Sweet Emily, you inspired me
to paint scenes of life's epic seas,
in dreams soar to paradise fields
rise up to love, lower my shields.

Your loving heart, broken too oft
tho' your words were spoken so soft,
loss and pain you had to endure
yet your poetry, sweet and pure.

Now your soul reveals from the past
to show depths of kindness that last,
to show passions in this dark world
this pit, we find we have been hurled.

Writing you words in loving praise
you from darkness, this soul did raise
to see dawn cast breath in the morn
to find truth, in my being born.

Sweet Emily, you inspired me
to paint scenes of life's epic seas,
in dreams soar to paradise fields
rise up to love, lower my shields.

Robert J. Lindley, 8-12-2018
Rhyme- ( A Tribute To Emily Dickinson)


Note- At an early age (14, ) I was given a book of poems to read and in it were several poems written by Emily Dickinson. Her poem, "I Died For Beauty, But Was Scarce"- its depths and though provoking all , lit something in my soul.That and my next discovery of Byron, spurred me to consider writing poetry. 
Once I started there was no going back. Call it a blessing or a curse, oft it seems to be one or the other to me...... 
A poet I became and a poet I shall surely die.* 
In between,  I write to love and write to cry.*
Swam in magical oceans, wrote many sad goodbyes*
Ink pumps in my poet heart and glows in my poet eyes*


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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Poetrybook

I'm out of the loop on Poetrysoup, 
I don't interact with the rest of the group.

On this site I've got static views,
others thousands, here just a few,
so to get me a boost, 
a new tactic I choose.

A comment for a comment is a common exchange,
keep them coming and constant so we're not estrange,
compliments, compliments so all are in range,
and I bet you those numbers continue to change.

Admit it, this visit, results from a comment I submitted,
your comment is permitted on this write full witted.

I left you a comment now you're here for a look,
a commonly bound chain found on Facebook,
I threw out the hook and the action was took,
they call this site Soup but it's Poetrybook.



Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018


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I'm Not Real

I’m not real….
I’m a woman woven from wonder’s imagination
Ethereal….the cotton candy of a dream
the glow and sparkle of a stream
the luxuriant lusciousness of cream
the sparkle that scintillates the surreal
the smooth softness of silky feel
But I’m not real…

I’m the sparkle left of angel dust
the fair fairy in fiction’s feast 
the tantalizing temptation tease
the benevolence of balmy breeze
Oh….
But, I’m not real

I’m not real…
You catch only glimpses of me
in what I want to reveal
What I want to conceal
I’m not real….
but when you read
those little rhymes
and poetry lines
Those emotions that you feel?
Those?
Yes! 
Those are real….

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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Destiny's Clutch

The dawn spoke her name like a silken secret
carried carefree by the tradewinds of lust and larceny
imported from the traderoutes of paradise and pandemonium, 
sequined with violet venom she venerates the virtue of volition
her love is unlawful, unequalled in unrest, righteous in conquest,
tender in temptation, torrid your surrender, her beauty a will bender,

Queen of Empire Passion, warrior unknown to submission
her kingdom was not inherited, glory and throne ungifted,
the treasures, stables and territories, battles and crown all won,
rich in intellect, endowed with rare resources, affluent in original passion
bejeweled in natural beauty, she bewitches beasts and men alike,
Poets pen her preciously as Woman Total, Priests implore her pardon,
male servants pander to her anger and ardor, satisfaction she commands,
Sisterhood the symbol and soul of her mission,

I was just a man, a wanderer wading through her reign,
from the unsubdued North I came, a curious traveler with ancient name,
my tribe unfamiliar, underestimated, a Chieftain of steady pulse,
tresspassing towards her roots my aim was direct knowledge of her
woman of renown cunning and learning, woman of exotic ability,
seeking teaching and romance, though I would not be her Subject or victim,
this she knew, this she abhorred, a challenge to her dominance,

I agreed to meet her alone in the open morning of war,
in an abeyounce of gliding fire she comes riding out of the sun
regalia of black roses against red tears flying above her shoulder,
our horses begin a battle tromp, breaths heavy with moist mania
she has leopards in her eyes
poinsettias and death's palms painted on thighs,
scalps of exlovers and enemies slung on sadle
we acknowledge one another with ritual yell
I exclaim, Warrior Poetess, she screams Poet Warrior!
dismounting with mutual vigor our combat erupts
cutting my cheek with her blade's lip
kicking me in the ribs
I clinch her collared throat
and heel trip us to the ground
she snarls, I growl,
a glimpse of rescue in eachother's eyes -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014


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SHATTERED LIFE

Broken Wounds will not heal Surrounded by sadness Grief pours from every single line Constance Form used traditional Cinquain 2,4,6,8,2 syllables Contest: Fragment of Life Sponsor: Broken Wings 02~24~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016