Best Stroke Of The Pen Poems
Downward marriage falls seeking some relief
Children follow awkwardly, senses moan
Husband and wife acting out of belief
Three children entering chambers unknown
Locked in battle, the wife reaches for sword
Under advice, she unleashes all hells
Falsely accusing the husband deplored
Of abuse, harm, and hate to citadels
With one stroke of the pen, I was condemned
Guilty 'til proven otherwise I was
Cast out, no home, no gold, no kids, clemmed.
Without, alone, despaired, scorned, for no cause
Time to think, time to ponder, time to pray
My children became my crusade, that day
09/21/17
'Taking a disappointment in your life turning it into something positive'
Form: Sonnet
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
no storyline can thrive to throw off loves balance,
to purposely paint a picture to detour its countenance,
the stroke of the pen changing in every moments release,
unconditional love neverending in beauty with each piece,
to place the heart back in its proper alignment,
in the changing of each moment with loves new assignment,
in the blink of an eye the storyline can change,
the plot, the characters, don't always end up the same way,
what you expected at the end of the story to be,
what you thought you rationalized becomes the opposite of what is seen,
love can thrive in ways past our own understanding,
the pace of his heart, God's happy ending...
With a pen to write;
with fingers to type;
I write anew;
This a new spring for me summer is gone;
autumn near winter flees.
It's in my blood; the ink the feather.
wandering soul; so long;
Irish bones african heartbeat.
Because of the english we make sound sweet.
It is who i am; where i go it gives me
voice; when i myself hide in shadows.
I can sing to that special one; romantic i am by nature.
I hold with both hands her features.
"Let down your walls great city." they shout. Why should I; for they only
pillage me.
Why battle with this blank page?
It is my blood; a fight i win.
how can you know? Do you take the time to
talk, to see , to understand?
Every step, evry stroke of the pen; again and again.
Every story and rhyme, now and
in future time.
Cry a river, spell a dream, sing a song
never seen.
For a penny, for a dime?
No!
I am the son of a poet.
REGULATIONS
BY
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Two sources of laws that govern the lives of men
One’s called survival the other a stroke of the pen
Those from survival are easy to list
Food, water and shelter so we can exist
Those from mans hand are often not clear
A crime over there is legal over here
Man’s laws may be admirable at their writing
Later found questionable at their citing
Laws, ordinances , regulations or policy norm
With so many restrictions not easy to conform
Don’t forget rules they’re important as well
Am I acting legally or awaiting a cell
Take the sinister case of the berlin wall
Many tried to cross it only to fall
It had been prohibited to go to the west
Any attempt to flee would result in arrest
One night a defector was fatally shot
Hung over barbed wire destined to rot
Then guess what happened the very next day
Passed a law if you want to go west “ its ok”
An example of a law that caused men to die
An illegal extortion forcing free men to defy
There are needs for law and order to protect
Each new law tightens the noose on a citizens neck
The penalty for breaking a law way back when
Put the guilty in leg blocks or a public pen
Shame him in front of neighbors and friends
Humiliation may cause his lawlessness to end
The initial mandate of imposing a fine
Worked quite well for a very long time
Regulations(2)
It became so lucrative new laws were soon due
Pile on new charges, generate more revenue
A man runs a red light cops are hot on his tail
There’s so many charges he may not make bail
Want to change the house color from tan to gray
Need to get permission from a hundred miles away
Redo these doors on the inside of my flat
Got to submit plans and a copy of the plat
It just gets tougher each request causes a fuss
Easier for the government to keep a rein on us
To control the masses is an easy feat
They just add more laws just never delete
It’s easy to have contempt for so many laws
The enforcement of them is loaded with flaws
A girl with drugs gets years of incarceration
Drunken teenager kills four receives probation
Additional laws will make us quiet as a mouse
You’ll soon need a permit to leave the house
It is intellectual dishonesty
When politicians discuss disparity
Both parties dance around the issues
As if the ones the issues pertain to are fools
Voting rights for instance can make or break a candidate
So why suppress the vote for some
When in their hands determines the candidate’s fate
Unemployment is still on the decline
Change and dollars are hard to find
Some will argue that my stats are wrong
But those are just opinions that are strong
Health care is a major component to any thriving society
So it makes sense to support health sobriety
Education is a big deal
But it’s being promoted for the rich
While the aspiring students get chills
Word to the wise
In all your getting get understanding
Because freedom aint free
No, not it is not free
Laws and legislation determines
The future for you and me
And voting is the top priority
It’s the stroke of the pen
That controls the politicians
In the depths of solitude, a poet dwells,
A lover of words, where silence swells.
His heart, once vibrant, now laden with pain,
A life shattered, lost in a torrential rain.
A child, once joyous, his laughter's delight,
Now a memory that fades in the night.
A marriage, once promising, crumbled apart,
Leaving him broken, with a wounded heart.
Yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker remained,
A glimmer of hope that still sustained.
For deep within his spirit, a fire burned,
A steadfast belief, a lesson hard-earned.
Depression's grip tightened, a relentless foe,
But he clung to faith, refusing to let go.
In the depths of despair, he found solace there,
Whispering prayers, releasing his care.
Like a solitary phoenix, he emerged from the flame,
With resilience and strength, he overcame.
For trials and tribulations had shaped his soul,
And from the ashes, a stronger man he'd grow.
He sought solace in the verses he penned,
Pouring his anguish, a cathartic blend.
With each stroke of the pen, he found release,
A balm for his wounds, a gentle peace.
And as he shared his poems, he touched hearts anew,
For in his words, others found solace too.
His story became a testament of grace,
A beacon of hope in a desolate place.
Through the darkest nights, he trusted in God,
His unwavering faith, a staff and a rod.
And from the depths of despair, he arose,
A testament to resilience, where hope freely flows.
So let his tale be a reminder to all,
That in our darkest hours, we need to recall,
That even when we stumble, lose our way,
We can rise like the phoenix, find light in the gray.
I just want to write something that would make Eminem say "I wish I wrote that"
I just want to write something that would have been good enough for Tupac's notepad
I just want to write lines, or a poem and have some people quote that
I just want to write something, that would make Nas say "I wish I wrote That"
I hide behind my pad, but use words to put myself out there
I hope my words can help people repair
I write from a place of pain, because I don't think the truth should be hidden
You see words on a page, but this is the way my blood is dripping
I try my best to remain consistent with my talent
Maybe I talk about depression and heartbreak too much and need a better balance
But most of my life has consisted of both of those things
My poetry gives me a way to fly with broke wings
Maybe I talk about being Bipolar too much, but why should I hide it?
I cry on the page with ink, and won't use a fake persona to disguise it
I make love to my pad and my words flirt with minds
I'm far from a great poet, Maybe I need a professional to help me better word my lines
Some of my poems are all over the place
But I hope with every stroke of the pen I get closer to great
But more importantly I hope my poems helped people to get over tough times
Right now, I'm stuck in the middle of that Crazy and genius line
I just want to write something that would make Jay-Z say "I wish I wrote that"
I just want to write something that would have been good enough for Biggie's notepad
I just want to write lines, or a poem and have some people quote that
I just want to write something, that would make Rakim say "I wish I wrote that"
The Soup is an Ocean,
a sea of writers, wanting to be heard
Each Poet is but a molecule,
a single element, in the vast compound
Each pen is the beginning,
of a quake, far below the surface
Culminating, larger, larger still,
until it is an unrestrained motion
With every thought, a ripple,
with every stroke of the pen, undulation
Until the writer completes their work
the tremor becomes a full blown quake,
Higher, higher with fevered pitch,
the reader feels the movement begin
From the very first word,
until the water wall of words grow
It continues to grow as we read on,
when we reach the Apex of the poem
We are overcast, with a shadow,
the curl of the wave, waiting to envelop us
As we reach the conclusion, final words,
the very content of the Poets mind
Comes crashing to the shore of our minds,
the reality, of Tsunami Soup...
Melody Maker
The music in my mind plays softly.
It is quiet today.
I can write and enjoy
each stroke of the pen
as it touches the paper...
like a lover for the first time
with their dearest one.
Gentle, soft, and methodical
the sounds interlace the moment,
with memory, to create remembrances
for later, when the resonances have lessoned
or stopped altogether. .
In the distance
I can see the white clouds,
they are rising slowly,
and gaining power, and physical strength.
My heart beats slightly faster, at the sight,
and the music responds.
Somewhere nearby
harps were joined by lutes,
and flutes.
Not dancing and prancing,
but bouncing against the unseen
droplets that will fall with the coming storm.
It has not happened,
but I know that it will... still.
I rush to finish the equation,
of love and forever,
the answer clearly presented.
The tune changed,
and rearranged...
the water touched the paper,
and caressed it anew,
the secret was then lost.
Have you ever wondered about all the things that require your signature in life
How about a marriage certificate, I now pronounce you man and wife
A steady hand is needed as you buy your first home
If a writer's cramp occurs with so many places to sign, you are not alone
The car of your dreams you are about to drive off the lot
Or maybe the insurance for that car you just bought
Your passport for an upcoming dream trip you are about to take
The officer speeding ticket for moving too fast, oh for heaven's sake
Your birth certificate your parents sign to prove you are alive
Your driver's license after you show you know how to drive
The only thing I would like to sign is a big check from the lottery I just won
One more stroke of the pen and my work day will be done
The world was simpler then
Why can't decisions stand fast
Immutable, Are there only ten commandments? Oh, I wish I had never done it,
Or not, how to avoid this tug of war
But then everything was simpler
Singing "She love me"
"She loves me not"
"Red rover, red rover"
Let my love come over
Where is my love?
My long lost love
My long lost precious love
The day's move from morning to dusk
And the seasons color changes
But not my long lost love
Lost by a stroke of the pen
Lost in the shades of time
no storyline can thrive to throw off loves balance,
to purposely paint a picture to detour its countenance,
the stroke of the pen changing in every moments release,
unconditional love neverending in beauty with each piece,
to place the heart back in its proper alignment,
in the changing of each moment with loves new assignment,
in the blink of an eye the storyline can change,
the plot, the characters, don't always end up the same way,
what you expected at the end of the story to be,
what you thought you rationalized becomes the opposite of what is seen,
love can thrive in ways past our own understanding,
the pace of his heart, God's happy ending...
Verses of creativity in written words;
Crossword puzzle to some.
Others,
Another wasted stroke of the pen.
Ink dances in immeasurable beatitude to the lovers of enchanting expressions.
Paint thinner,
All over the pages to the critics.
Sadden souls enlighten with blessings of laughter,
Finding hope on paper to make it to another day.
English professor,
"Baspheme to the poem-writer's community!"
Spooky to a handful,
"Interpretation of my soul."
The average comic book reader limited to one realm of picture reading.
Scholars horrified pondering thoughts,
"Sheol! Where does this darkness arise from in print-form?"
Simplicity of love in the inspirational waltz.
Child dipping hands in paint onto cardboard,
Only looks good on the refrigerator door.
Modern-day art on scrolls to the social class.
In all this,
Who is anyone to really say?
Throughout this earth,
Diverous voices of definitions.
Echos of yesteryear's saying,
"Pleasing all is an overwhelming fulite."
The beauty of poetry,
Whether it make sense or not to others,
Enjoy the scrollpen in between the fingertips,
And may the seasons of writing show tenderness upon you.
Lay it down & walk away over a few adverse comments?
What else must one leave at the writing table?
Life-
Story Structure
Some writers leave a story at the climax,
like an adolescent male leaving the reader not totally satisfied.
Other writers never bring the reader the climax, of their story.
Good writers take the reader with them.
They start the story with an introduction to the body of characters.
Learning every nuance and curve of each, the writer brings them to life with every stroke of the pen. Gradually easing the reader into the main body of the story.
Building page, by page, and chapter, after chapter,
until the readers are unable to restrain themselves from turning the next page.
Slowly the reader becomes the main character.
Living every moment, feeling every pleasure, pain, and sorrow as slowly the reader reaches the climax. Then after the reader is spent, the writer eases the reader down slowly with the epilogue.
Ending the story with the reader in the afterglow of the tale.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
A country weakened by Her leader’s folly
Enabling the evil one to garner support
His false yet boasting beliefs in morality,
Lead a nation to choose unwisely, unknowing.
A weak beginning soon fueled by terror
Fear used as a weapon of control
Her sons and daughters fall down shaking, caring not
Only to hear that terror is reigned
In their doing so, all is forsaken
For the evil one will take from Her soul
Each day our freedoms slipping from us
Yet few cry out to stop the pillage
Her beacon shining from the river
Grows pale from wounds that bleed
For what once stood for freedom
Now deserts those most in need
Cry for all that has been lost
Weep for those who have been harmed
For eight long years his evil triumphs
Her righteous silent as he spins his lies
Those few who see the truth speak out
Hoping to enlighten those that are blind
Risking all to break the fear of silence
As Liberty dies with each stroke of the pen