Best Sociallove Poems
It’s New York’s very own,
Making Poetry-Soup his home.
For we all know his caring heart,
From his loving, caring, honest remarks.
Not only does he remodel homes,
His watchful eye loves to roam,
On Poetry-Soup late at night,
To bring us humor and delight.
There’s times he speaks of things,
That pulls on our heartstrings.
He’s his own masterpiece,
With loving beauty that’ll never cease.
I read his comments everyday,
And love what he has to say.
Michael Torres you’re our friend,
Someone special I’d recommend.
You’re a kind and loving soul,
That we’ve all come to know.
And a fine contemporary bard,
This poem’s for you, with my regards.
Michael, this poem is for you and it's my way to thank you for all of your beautiful and loving
comments. You have been a blessing and an inspiration in our lives and in our poetic
journeys. Your love overflows in every area of your life. Poetry Soup would definitely not be
the same without you, my friend. I hope my words are accurate to some degree, if not drop
me a comment and I will correct them, Your poetry and comments are more than a piece of
literature, They’re more like the chronicles of Michael Torres. With love, peace, and respect
from one poet to another...Raul Moreno
Spent your whole life scrawling runes in the sand
your whole world etched out in tropes
arcs from beginning and end unto skyline
been there done that, I can comprehend you
don't wanna ever be there again though
I miss my time with you
I loose my skin to let some air back in
sinking in at the speed of time
what sound does it make when you stop to look at it
not the steady tick of the clock at all
more a soft scream into the thickening moonlight
I tense at the chill of the megale wind
dead men studying dead men that studied dead men
but who here really wants to live forever
raise your hands and we knock you off
overboard, buh-bye
Hygieia, for the breath in my lungs
Dionysus, for the drink in my veins
Le Moirai, for the lines I've crossed
Tyche, for the lines I shall remain
The blood taste in my mouth makes me wince
it's not overbearing, it's just that
it's barely noticeable at all
so I think of the one and his taste for blood
perhaps not lust, but a form of negligence
The crescent wisp, the knife in palm
striking earth where the crumbs have fallen
yet I meet you here and now
on the waves with no ship
dance of the salt and sun along the northern branch
Mon coeur est triste
j'espère que vous savez mon chemin
ma naissance est une disjonction
entre l'honneur et la famille
Artemis, for the food in my belly
Demeter, for the crumbs in my bowl
Hera, for the woman of my life
Eros, for our love and love alone
Examining love from all different angles, one can come to appreciate the connection
how it is so often used as the vehicle, by which we share with others our deepest
affection
and this love no matter how much we have, never do we seem able to get enough
yet had we been forced to live without it, we would find living in starvation just too
tough
This constant need to possess a measure of love in our life, must be part of that
divine plan
enabling us to maintain our emotional health, and affording us a way to become a
better man
perhaps an additional reason might also be, to share a little of our love with those
in need
we can become so lost in our materialistic world, easily forgetting to pursue this
noble deed
The greatness of man’s creation exists from within, and lies dormant for us to find
accepting the fact that we are spiritual beings, and the most unique of our kind
innate potential to reach the highest of heights, in the service of our Creator
choosing wisely to do good, while rejecting evil, and thus becoming even greater
Fooling yourself with alluring transitory pleasures, this world leads you astray
fleeting momentary happiness, causes you to believe you are here to stay
furthest from the truth you could never be, because ultimately all will see
when the end of that long road arrives, you too, will be just another deportee
Only with constant toil and unremitting effort, could we think it possible to overcome
to successfully subdue evil that is now a part of you, would be nothing short of
awesome
better to consider the end, when your immortal soul will be in need of an abode of
its own
what a tremendous loss it would be indeed, for your soul to be left in the dark and
all alone
I can pull out your heart.
Then if I wish I could put it back in.
Then mend your skin with love because I am a man.
It’s a two way street the lying and cheating.
Then honesty comes - then learnt eventually wrong most always win.
A soul bouncing on fingertips needs time to heal and grow.
The pain, gain, agony, blindly - deceit
The love people spare just not to be alone - the unknown fingertip sweep.
When i say hello,
You have to feel joy
because i love you
and when i become sad,
you have to be like me
because we love each other.
I no longer feel numb...
Because the waves are dancing,
and crashing into the shores,
Robins are chirping sweet melodies,
songs that I cannot ignore,
Bliss is a high mountain,
and I'm at its ultimate peek,
I can now love myself,
conformity... I no longer seek,
The floras spread their scent,
while smiling up to the sky,
The ships are sailing, and arms are flailing,
it's time to say goodbye,
I can now love myself,
conformity was a foolish ally.
Childhood days knew frivolous fun.
Nights brought fears one by one.
Possessions were many we needed naught.
My heart ached for the love I sought.
Manicured yards brought flowers bloom.
Inside myself was disaster’s loom.
Unique and historic our house served a mission.
Provided warmth; whipped into submission.
Words whirled around like a centrifuge.
God’s loving Son was my soul’s refuge.
Escape came young, but I finished school.
I learned to love and live the golden rule.
© March 12, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Crowded rooms, though full, know many lonely hearts.
Smiling guests mingle; laughing, dancing, they sing.
Imaginary friends strange solace imparts.
Nonetheless, loneliness grips its painful sting.
All around cupid’s arrows take aim; love starts.
Sadly, upon the friendless there is no ring.
It had happened many times over and again.
Thank God, life and love began as you walked in.
© January 16, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Natural love is worth living for
Lets get back to time we were one
I wish to retrace to that pure
Embrace the basics and relearn
Principles we made but forgot
Running in the mad race every time
Lost self and truth in thought
Lets go back to those sublime
Equality of all we do proclaim
Though we ourselves do wrong
Then smartly play blame game
Leaving all which was along
No more of fights among each
Lets embrace love not gains
High time to give up bad deeds
No longer cause harm and pain
No walls of differences ahead
Be it caste, color or the wealth
Wish to be now a bond of thread
As we are pals with humane felt
There is a kingdom near to me well-known,
For it has gleaming gates, and golden face.
It seems the seed of gladness there are sown.
The heads of citizens are blank; the space
Where once the deep and probing questions lay,
Now ads that plaster streets do take their place.
My head is filled with ads as well, I may
Admit, but I know of a special kind,
Amidst the ads they think, discuss, and play.
These “they’s” I talk of come to love and find
The One that frees them, one who breaks the things—
Revenge and greed—that harmfully do bind.
These “they’s” are rebels, faces gold they bring
Humility, and when these “they’s” show love,
The One that lives within does have them sing.
And when confronted by the love that’s of
The people—think, discuss, and play—the kings
And kingdoms gold away did pass by dove.
Who are you?
Let me peer inside...
I'm not afraid to find
I could love you.
You're foreign
like no one I've ever known,
nothing like you grows near my home
so... different.
Yet your hands
are similar to mine,
both gentle and kind
and earthy like sand.
Your eyes,
curious and bold,
the mirror of mine
our reflections, both hold.
What do you adore?
What about do you wonder?
Maybe...you're only foreign
on the outside
maybe your feelings are like mine.
Maybe...I'm as foreign to you
something that puzzles you too.
Maybe...there's something we both know about
and feel strong about
and agree.
Maybe you're like me
and there's no such thing as foreign.
But if there is, I foreign love you.
Push as you pull…
Balanced soul eating not realizing full…
Nutrition begins within the brain of the ship’s hull…
Infinite potential inside the sacred skull…
Prosthetic presidential preaching produces powerfully poisoned paradoxes…
Behold the inner voice, speaking silently…
Wisdom used from its words mutates actions seemingly violent…
Peace and serenity become the eyes personality…
This love force will recreate the entirety of humanity…
Love your family, love your friends and love all of life…
Adios, sayounara; living with fears manifested Strife…
O joyous Love-Of-Things Day,
O LOt Day, coming near,
I've bought a lot
To give a lot,
To lots of friends so dear.
And lots are coming my way,
Of flashing things so good,
And in a lot
I'll take a lot,
Like every Lot-man should.
For I'm a Lot-man, it is true,
I love a lot the things I do;
I love a lot of each live day
I work a lot for my loved pay.
I plan a lot for coming dawn,
With lots of profits piliong on;
I think a lot 'bout doing right
For all my keenest joys so white;
And then I stand with hands on hips,
A smile of pride upon my lips;
I see a lot of things around
That men have stood up on the ground,
A lot of towers, lots of cars,
And lots of spaceships aimed for Mars;
A lot of music moves me, whole,
And fills me lots with beauty's soul,
And lots of lines of happy poems
Come skipping through from sunny tomes,
And inspiration, lots on lots,
Grabs me with its perkling plots,
Till I, a real-man, sing my praise
To Merry Lot-mas all my days!
O Merry Lot-mas, made by men,
Bring them lots of joy again!
And Merry Lot-man, man that's me,
Make your lot prosperity!
Your love is like cold butter;
I am the knife.
It will not spread
will not move
it’s hopelessly stuck.
Obviously, as a knife,
I have no need of butter.
But look! Just over there!
A hunk of bread!
I’m quite sure that bread
would go really, really well
with some butter.
It looks positively lonely,
just sitting there
on the cutting board.
Can’t you see it?
I’m one for sharing, you see,
especially when it comes
to things of which I have no want.
So please.
For the love of that baguette,
just go make nice.
I’ll even help, smooth things over.
After all, that’s what knives do.
Besides cut.
(But I’d really rather not introduce you
to the sharpness and serration.)
So:
butter, meet bread.
Bread, meet butter.
And maybe we’ll
leave the utensils out of it.
With my hands held high, I'm stepping up & I'm stepping out,
to show my love of life, as I hold true to myself,
true to my word, which is to be seriously accepted & positively heard.
There's no mistaking just where I start or where I end,
There's no hidden message , when I call you friend.
I, can't be denied the love I have for my heritage,
or be judged by the color of my skin.
So don't look behind me, there's nothing to see,
Don't judge who's around me because, there won't be
Don't hold back, when it's not me
or lie because you're not sure what to believe.
Allow the words of my soul to soak in & through you flow,
For my word is, what holds me to be gold.
In these fields of words, there's treasures to be, told.
While I lay in the brown color of my skin, my heritage
my house hold, where I, was, brought up in
We can't be segregated or divisibly separated
due to our skin being shaded.
We can't fall or be evaded.
We rise to make it or nothing at all,
We strive with no reason to hide.
Pushing on with, our sworn love to our Brown Pride