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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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New Poetess Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Poetess poems are below this new poems list.

Doublewide Trailer Poetess by Elliott, Regina
The Poetess and The Photographer by S , Judith
INSPIRED BY JAN ALLISON - I know an amazing poetess named Jan by Talbot, Mick
The Poetess by Colquitt, Jasmine
Poetess Mother Maya Angelo by Lee Sr., James Edward
Poetess by CRESSWELL, PATRICIA
A Pakistani Poetess Message by Kashmala Kiran, Aliza
The Father of the Poet or Poetess Upon Sharing a Few Poems by McCadden, Laura
sightless poetess by Loo, Laura
Bless To Our Dead Poets And Poetess by Emery, Judy

View all new Poetess Poems

The Best Poetess Poems

Details | Poetess 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

~*~

Details | Poetess Poem |

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.

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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 **

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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!

Details | Poetess Poem |

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.

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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.

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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




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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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.

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

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.

Details | Poetess Poem |

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

Details | Poetess Poem |

Soul of the Poet

Invite of the trendy crowd,
yearning for acclaim,
a common braggart read aloud,
to glean synthetic fame.

The fellow even took a bow
when some had stood and clapped
The rest of them were in the know;
so mostly they just napped.

Elsewhere in a lonely hut,
near death’s parting knell,
doors and windows firmly shut,
a poet bids farewell.

Painfully she starts to write,
and pens a lovely score,
her phantom fans in sheer delight,
arise in silent roar.


2nd Place, Put Your Best Rhyme Forward, Just That Archaic Poet

Details | Poetess Poem |

RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY

RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY

Smiles were stolen from me long time ago
Days gone gray as storms rush to play: my...
They drain. Fervently, I called to the Heavens 
but it seems no one there. No one there!

I lullaby with the whine of gushing winds,
hoping they are kind enough to blow my notes.
Notes carrying cries when am still a child 
as 'til this day, I yearn for father's love...

I face every facets of life in color white,
some brushed my lips with grins and laughter,
some stitched the screams of November
yet passed they left footprints to remember.

There in the azure ambiance, love's dare~
I bit the chance but sadly I fell distant,
my sweet red heart weep from bitter thrusts.
Easing emptiness within, I refuse to be a victim.

I prayed, pleading always for a Saviour kiss 
just maybe through it, I might die in peace. 
(Is death the better surrendering  deliverance?
Or just an acrid escape for suicidal goodbyes?)

I chose God for I prefer to love and live
into poetry I began rhyming a letting go
the quill of a poetess, I bravely try:
verses and lyrics my healing balm...

Tossed flowers from the changing seasons
and so the smells of pancakes and cafe
flirt slatternly to my imagination
bursting from me a ballad or a sonnet.

But oh! Poetic finesse is a gold in a mine
hence, I dig, dive to curves and loops
presenting always my jolly descent views...
Others said   images I present confuse,

they don't know, they are the nightmares
creeping, shaking my lethargic muse.
Written free, I asked you to read carefully~
I send messages of love, beauty and maladies...

My pen scribbles mom ore unchained melodies
for my heart slowly erects from slumber.
It somersaults upon the breaking swell of sunrise
in this tediously solitary realm of the world.

The horrible webs of yesterday's frustrations
I untangled from life's hullabaloos...
Shattered dreams into my ink, I shall reform
unencompassable inspirations, I want to rouse.

Grace from God refilled, it empowered my life
surging heartbeats pushed me to clamor for change.
I stand to blossom amidst imprisoning trials
yet never forgetting my humble ground.
 
Coupled with the will to survive all strifes
let my living be mirrored to pages
and when breath of life is cut from me
let my pen be raindrops of immortality.
____________________________________________________________
Sponsor Name: Silent One
Contest Name: Your final poem
~~3rd Place~~

++ POEM of the DAY ~ August 30, 2015 ++

© Olive Eloisa Guillermo
10:57 pm. August 28, 2015

Details | Poetess Poem |

I AM 'THE POETESS'

I AM, "THE POETESS"

The array of pigeons stampede upon soft blue-white bears
camping on the mountaintops. Stretching shadows 
across green fields, slowly depart when sun yawns to sleep.

When moon-dust streams bathing the night sky,
horizon gleams brushing--a hidden tryst below.
From biting misery caused by world wars' fangs
to lullaby hums of tweeting birds
and of seagulls' swish and pounds...

Grand or not they are spark spectacles drawing lifeline..

(I am the poetess who loves to write about these)

Through my pen, I echo to the world the rhythmic message of love.
I open the eyes of man to see the beauty among God's creations.

(I am the poetess who is a lover of God and forever
am seeking ways to please Him more than any)

I bring beauty too, that even the blind can see..
Some trembles: songs and speech of angels
that even the deaf can hear.I want to touch the lips 
of the dumb that they may psalm the ballads of life.

(I am the poetess who is 29 y/o this year, 
a nurse, a singer, a cook in my own right :D!)

I lift the spirit of the crushed then cheer victors in the pedestal.
I invoke joy when there is none. Hence, even tears: a scream of smiles.

(I am the poetess who dares try and reach my limits and beyond, 
writing from my heart of hearts and from my thought of thoughts)

I light up a candle in the midst of hopelessness
then usher through morals in verse:the cavalcade of humanity

(I am the poetess who expresses freedom of expression responsibly--
wanting always to inspire, encourage and to remind)

Poetic finesse not always my ground
My name may never be known but each stanza I write
I hope it may wake your somber muse.

(I am the poetess that always consider herself--
beginner in every poem she writes...)

I am  the poetess...
________________________________________________________________
Sponsor	TAMMY REAMS
Contest Name	Bio of a Poet 
---Placed 3rd---

O.E. Guillermo
9:11 pm, April 15, 2015

Details | Poetess Poem |

Nayda

Beyond the skills of escorts
and the appeal of other playthings,
smolders the need of the soul
infused to best every man.
Twelve years have taken
the scars out of the memories,
from the last time I was
up and through
just to come down and out
to find every fairy tale
extends it’s hand
to some tragedy.
The odds don’t warrant
the time of practical effort.
Too keen to the liabilities,
always calculating ends.
It is not the demands of over
or having to start something new
rather, better to remain alone
than to be let down again.
But now I see you,
and it makes me pause
so still, with the whisper --
Are you sure?
	Falls into a deafening singularity 
forbidding even a scream, it’s escape.
I sit and can only see
the touch of Heaven
reaching across the Caribbean
to color your face.
As your smile holds the songs
of every dawn’s temptress,
under the soft disposition
of your eyes 
rests a divine spirit’s symmetry, 
smoothing features
while lensing each strand
the perfect frame.
That once moved a favored King
to murder a man, only to bring
the sword into his own house.
Enabled an army to take 
a strong city with just one horse.
And enslaved the envy of Venus
to sharpen leaden arrows,
but fury slipped her hands
and bled her wrists out.
Blood clotted on the cold muck
of her grave, a suffocating cocoon.
Immersed the viewer becomes, 
and timeless the window
of the heart that is God’s craft,
denying the deceiver’s forgery
of any singed carnality.
As if proximity has been given 
within the mist of your perfume,
in just this one picture
of your face.

Details | Poetess Poem |

He wasted My Ink

Splotches of black ink stain my diary and hands
most of them much larger than tiny grains of sand
splatters caused when he slammed down my well
hoping to end the love of poetry I never shall quell.

Fool is he for believing his childish tantrum and rant
would keep me from retrieving my pen, for it shan't.
He delivered his message with vicious brutal force
now I shall have a turn to take a retaliating course.

He underestimated my courage and now I seek
to pen my poems choosing adjectives less weak.
My writings shall not be contained in diary alone
Publicly I intend my poems to be read and shown.

He wasted my ink and inflamed my strong-willed desire
To rebel against the monster with thorns sharp as briar.
Well! I have a hundred pens and more ink to fill the well.
If I believed in Hades, I'd write him into the fires of hell.

Details | Poetess Poem |

From Darkness To Stardom

Every child is born into this world crying,
Little did this poor child know, tears would fall for the rest of her life.
Born into a world of abuse, heartache and pain,
With a drug addict, alcoholic abusive father and a heartless mother.
Every day was the same, left alone with only silence and darkness,
Dirty clothes, little to eat with every cry for help resulting in violence.
How could her eyes see any happiness when they had run dry?
How could she smile with cut lips and a bruised body?
At 7, her mother died from a lethal overdose of alcohol and drugs,
However, the abuse got worse as she became her father’s new toy.
Poor little girl, an object of carnal gratification and her innocence stolen,
By a man who was responsible for her protection and well being.
The effects of a dark and destructive childhood destroyed her confidence,
With low self esteem and no social skills, they mocked her in school.
Little did they know about the struggles in her life and the pain she was going through,
Bruised and abused, having to make her own lunch with no help from a pathetic father,
This was her daily routine- even hell would have been a more peaceful place for her.
But, little did the world know the girl had a hidden talent,
The voice of an angel and the mind of a creative poet.
At night when she sang, the stars glowed to her beautiful lullaby,
The ink of her pen was like blood rushing from her veins to create magical lyrics.
Music and poetry was her escape from a life of cruelty and rejection,
Her talent was hidden, so no one could help her reach her potential.
As the girl grew, her abuse never stopped, there seemed no end,
With constant memories of painful yesterdays and a childhood lost.

She used her incessant pains and struggles to enhance her music,
Writing hours upon hours of poetry and songs, self-teaching brilliance…
Deep inside she yearned for someone to understand her, to see her…
If not, but one, she would she be wholly satisfied

Many nights she would find herself crying uncontrollably, 
The darkness of the room enveloping her every being
She could see the past in her mind’s eye and be reminded of the sick present
She began to hate her father, and every brat at her school
She cursed death and life alike, and envied her mother’s eternal sleep
Everyone who spit their insult, everyone who remained silent and apathetic,
She hated them with a passion so self-destructive, it burned her raw scars...
Teaching herself to hold it in, so that on paper she could create masterpieces
And prove all of the monsters around her wrong…
In silence, she recalled the worst memories to shame further her reality.
A part of her knew that she was incredibly talented,
Though the darkness often blinded her with guilt
She felt that she did not deserve even a voice,
Her writings were but a sick reminder of demons she could never conquer
Shivering in the cold, her skin dirty and dry,
Ugly…ugly…was the only word she could live by

One night, she contemplated taking her life…
She vowed all of her suffering would meet a greater purpose,
Beyond the grave…beyond fear of hell beneath
She was dirt after all, like the kids always told her
How much worse could it be, facing the flames she was born in?
She threw the kitchen knife down and looked up at the stars above
Even Death would reject her, she knew…
In acceptance, she acknowledged her ugliness and became a stunning underdog
Rebellion sifted through her veins and her strength brought fear to her father
Bullies looked at her as if she was the devil himself
No one could tell her what to do anymore,
And nobody would ever understand her
Though that was okay…
Because that is all she ever knew

Ten years later, the rotten roller coaster continued
Though a fateful night of circumstance had led her right on the stage
Men were mesmerized by her fierceness and apathy
Not being able to grasp each significant line layered in truth
She showed none mercy as she slayed ruthless chords of wonder
Her voice rang angelically, mixed with the fires and tears of her life
Echoing beyond the grave of cold Death… beyond what was wrong or right
It was her silence that stunned the audience the most
Those eyes, having seen so much…felt so much…hid so much…
That cut mouth, with the eternal dry trickle of a bitter tear
The world was not prepared for her intolerable genius,
Just as she was not prepared for their astonished applaud…

-A collaboration by The Silent One and I : )