Best Supports Poems
Art is abstract
Art thrives with colours
Colours brighten faded coral
Colours highlight black
Black skies with silver stars
Black opal gemstones
Gemstones like amethyst
Gemstones of vivid ruby
Ruby roses and crimson thorns
Ruby as precious as emeralds
Emerald stalks of yellow daisies
Emerald and velvet aurora
Aurora Borealis in hints of pink
Aurora Australis in tones of turquoise
Turquoise morpho butterflies
Turquoise waves on sands of gold
Gold rays of orb in sapphire sky
Gold crown with Indian jewels
Jewels that sparkle like red diamonds
Jewels unique like taaffeite
Taaffeite glimmers in mauve
Taaffeite shimmers in lavender
Lavender blooms in lilac buds
Lavender can help you to sleep
Sleep brings ebony nightmares
Sleep brings dreams of ivory
Ivory are a grey elephant's tusks
Ivory are the keys on pianos
Pianos are made from pine
Pianos can be stained in brown
Brown bark covered in green moss
Brown is compost for soil
Soil supports olive herbs
Soil weaves rainbow roots
Roots of amber sweet pea
Roots nourished from plain rain
Rain brings charcoal clouds
Rain flourishes fields of barley
Barley has an earthly hue
Barley crops bloom in beige
Beige looks a bit like magnolia
Beige is a little vanilla
Vanilla has a lovely scent
Vanilla can be a dull personality
Personality should be like orange
Personality is portrayed in poetry
Poetry is a pigment of creativity
Poetry is a vibrant palette of love
Love...
Creativity...
My butt crack
Is quite a split
It supports the rest of me
when I sit
you thought I was gonna say something else didn't you ?
My butt crack
Is a marvel to behold
It was cute when I was young
but now offensive since I'm old
My butt crack
Is pretty darn straight
can you imagine if it was crooked
pretty weird sight I would rate
My butt crack
Is funny to me
when I bend over in my jeans
It peeks out
for you to see
My butt crack
wanted me to write this today
for no other reason
then just to say......................
I gotta split
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
Was it a sheer accident that I became a poet?
Poetry, I didn’t pursue, rather it cropped up
As a late-night guest, quite unexpected.
A teacher’s career, I have been bent upon
And prefer to be known more as a teacher than a poet.
In my eyes, teachers are a venerable sort,
Happy that I could belong to that ‘special’ lot,
Instilling in young ones - newer insights gleaned,
Enriching their lives - with atoms of knowledge pooled,
Brightening their paths - with millions of lanterns lit,
Rowing them away - from the perilous shoals of life,
And leading them to be anchored on safer shores!
A teacher sure stands taller above,
Every other mortal who serves!!
Numerous are the guise a teacher has to put on,
And cleverer the tricks she has to play,
To tackle the wards in her all-out care,
And launch them out into a world to fare.
I have played all at once myriad roles,
More of a mentor and not just a tutor,
A physician who heals, a nurse who tends,
A parent who cares or a pal who shares,
A patron who supports or a lawyer who argues,
A scholar who learns and a master who trains.
As Christ taught his disciples - with parables many,
As Socrates instructed the youth - through endless queries,
As Sullivan led Keller - to the new dawn of light,
As Aesop enlightened kids - with countless tales,
I strove to be a TEACHER.
An erudite soul with a mission!
A sculptor who sees an angel, veiled within a rock!
An architect building an edifice to last a lifetime!
A warrior uncompromising in war,
On Ignorance – the most ignoble foe!
I don’t know where I presently stand,
Nor do I know how my students would rate me,
Though often floundered or failed to act,
In the manner I ever so longed to do,
I would rather be a TEACHER all my life,
A ‘guru’ out and out, from hilt to heel.
And I would wear that mantle with pride!
Unique is the discipline of love
Understanding God's law
Faith holds supreme commander
Sometimes we have to fight
our way through a concrete jungle
stone cold dreams nightmare evaluates
Rocking the cradle unworthy desires
no peace or rest for the wicked deeds
in order to find the answers to hopes prayer
Truth pointing us directions
within our code of moral conduct
which supports us in our voyage
In the walk of life chaos grips hearts consumed with hate
Without faith our souls identity will become dust
Needing hugs from heaven to survive
A Collaborated Poem 19.11.2015
Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam Mc Daid
(tercets unrymed)
Another hungry, homeless child will die
Parents have no job, no food, no insurance
Undernourished pregnant woman cry,
The Feds give only lip-service assurance.
Most people think it can’t happen here
That welfare supports these pitiful cases,
But, folks, I tell you many live daily in fear
Here in America … in the forgotten places.
In the backwoods no hospitals even exist
Medical help is a long-drive-by-car away,
If they don’t show up, they’re off the list
Forgotten until a tragedy comes their way.
We think everyone has it as easy as we do
Taking little notice of those in abject poverty
Seldom worrying about making it through,
Neglecting to think about life’s other reality.
Written August 12, 2022
POEM OF THE DAY
Poetry Soup
August 13, 2022
#52 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
October 1, 2022
MR GREEDY
Mr Greedy could not eat any more
His bulging stomach was swollen and sore
Needed hospital care
But he couldn't get there
Cos he got wedged in the frame of the door...
SPOILT BRAT
A spoilt young daughter was having a moan
Santa didn't bring the latest I phone
Her dad said" hand me that
You ungrateful young brat"
And sent her off to her room to atone...
MA KELLY
Eighty year old Ma Kelly passed away
Her mean family didn't want to pay
So they filled her with concrete
Then put supports on her feet
And sold her as a statue on ebay...
SINBAD
For twelve camels Sinbad purchased a wife
But she gave him lots of grief and much strife
Tried to give her away
All his friends they did say
"A wife's not just for Christmas but for life" ..
CLIMATE CHANGE
Eskimos igloos started to buckle
Global warming for them is big trouble
They got home one day
And to their dismay
Their village had turned into a puddle...
NEW YEAR
If you go out celebrating new year
Do go easy on the whiskey and beer
Make sure you drive slowly
Cos you don't want to be
Stuck in a snow drift right up to your ear...
Written 30th December 2019.
Better still if you're driving DON'T DRINK.
Happy New Year to all.
There is a special man we look up to.
Writing great poems on Poetry Soup.
His Limericks put a smile on our face,
being from the great UK, his birthplace.
His adventures at Milton's Creek thrill us.
They are gripping tales to read, and a must.
The Master of story telling is he.
Writing awesome Poem's to enjoy and read.
Sharing his feedback, he gives you his best.
His much valued comments, always impress.
He's been to some Countries, with his Dear wife,
and shares his adventures, about his life.
Soon peace in Ukraine, He wants and supports.
Crimes against Putin, in a Ukraine court!
Many followers that look up to him,
are so privileged to call him their friend.
I know your asking yourself, who's this man?
Our beloved Poet, Tom Cunningham.
In your comments
share why Tom is
such a special Poet.
Wishing Tom and
all writers a very
Merry Christmas,
and a much better
New Year. God Bless
you all...
You are all Special...
We have the left; we have the right.
In the political arena they both fight.
Always claiming to be on our side,
With ferocious rhetoric, opponents they deride.
Vote for us, to be saved from a vicious clan’s
Reckless and dangerous life ending plan.
So now it’s up to you and I
To decide, who is right and who tells lies.
Now I don’t know what works for you.
I judge not what they say; rather what they do.
For talk is cheap and taxes ain’t.
I’m in support of fiscal restraint.
Now this is a fact for all posterity;
A nation can’t spend itself into prosperity.
Both sides know that this is true.
But look at what the charlatans do.
They simply make a language adjustment;
Government spending renamed as investment.
So now it’s up to you and I
To decide, who is right and who tells lies.
The finger of accusation is pointed;
As our nation becomes disjointed.
Now both sides in self-righteousness claim;
The other side is the one to blame.
I’m not sure how you deduce,
But I look at the fruit they produce.
Who supports phony investigations;
The sole evidence of their own making.
Who supports keeping people in places;
Dividing them up into different races.
Who believes they can legislate prosperity;
Ignoring all of human history.
Who believes it a proper choice;
To slay the unborn who have no voice.
So now it’s up to you and I
To decide, who is right and who tells lies.
Media acts in a partisan manner,
Thus, I ignore their constant clamor.
People throwing bombs and firing weapons;
The very definition of insurrection.
When people gather to show disgust.
That is what is defined as a protest.
There are few neutral voices.
Everyone is always spinning choices.
So now it’s up to you and I
To decide, who is right and who tells lies.
I want to weep
at the destruction of poetry
that comes now with the use of AI robots
and the fact that cheats are entering
contests on PS
and winning high placements over real poets
how sad is that only some sponsors care
some just don't care
and worst the odd person even supports it
I am not one of those
no AI poem will ever, never, ever place in my contest
see, I do care, I check every single poem
and guess what I know
who you are
this is my created
form that I call fragmented spaces
no robot created it, I did, and several others too
because that is what real poets do, they create
my poems are
written with my own blood, heart and soul
and I am so proud of that and my poetry
how dare you AI users
think you can compare with a real writer
because some sponsor
places your fake poem as a winner, I bet you laugh
that you fooled them into thinking you can write
well, we the contest sponsers who care
are now checking for AI
*Hot & Cold*
“The Professional.”
only in my eyes
supports
the temperature.
Mercury, rising above:
Boiling point of no return,
Injection,
Rejection,
like heartfelt tears
on the surface,
pouring of dryness
from the deep
complete.
Bare
Plot
Both
Dot
Cold
not good enough.
You stay,
Numbness against the impression
of adoration
wallows off
Venus, the frigged interiors of:
Freezing below zero,
from my form,
Swallow knots
intent look
nowhere to be found -
in the zeniths
radiation.
Core
Depth
Beauty
Death
Hot
I grasp it all.
The secret of you
I hunger!
Cannot have,
nowhere to be found-
no, lease.
Stay…
A kiss so endlessly,
I need!
I want!
endurance
reassurance
your vibes
confused,
not fixed
your placid
hallucination
during
muddy waters.
And still I may be smitten: -)
By;pd
Beauty in Imperfection - A collaboration with Iris Blade
I got too close to the masterpiece
And realized it was cracked
Blemishes and scars
Memories and sorrow
I stared as the brushstrokes reflected
fault lines in reverse images
slicing and carving,
desires and dreams
And I silently waited
For the broken frame
For the cracked canvas
To whisper their story
To give the answers to my questions
Because I no longer knew
What was beautiful
And what was not.
Yet still I gaze intently,
mesmerized by the vision I find
Could it be that life is hidden within
this portrait that seems so oddly familiar
Where an easel supports
Not only a work of unexplained reason,
But a deeper meaning
In all that I see
Beauty behind brushstrokes
Not perfection but
Affection
Love behind scarred lines in blue
And this one painting
Has shown me what I know
And what I want to
Beauty resides in imperfection.
I am jealous
of everything that has ever touched you,
the breaths of hot sunshine that have soothed your cheeks with hope,
the moonlight that has painted your lips with lilly silver,
the darkness that has calmed you into soft slumber,
the rain that has pelted your flesh with sky splash,
the breeze that has lifted your hair with seductive intent,
Jealous of every temptation that has made your soul sweat,
every secret that has sworn obedience to your obsessions,
every kiss that has taken a taste of your sweet heat
every man that has collapsed into your romance,
every mouth that has spoken your name with awe
every second that has circled your psyche,
every particle that has pranced through your bloodstream,
every emotion that enlivens your ego,
every knot of knowledge that supports your smarts,
every star that has caught your girlish wishes,
every tear that slides faithfully from the pink rims of your eyelids,
every cut that has silenced your pride,
Jealous of every thing
that has left you, fed you, led you, entered you,
yet, I am grateful for all these odd and splendid things
that have known your beauty and pain,
for they have made my need for you real
and your love for me possible,
this jealousy is my love hypocrisy -
J.A.B.
These were set in motion from the beginning of time.
Heavens abound in each of their glory, power sublime.
Every excursion that they set upon revolves in rhyme.
Solar orb that secures life upon this planet we dwell.
Universally seen around our globe, for all to tell,
Never tiring it revolves, captured within its cell.
Rising up from its core, flares of powerful streams.
I respect what has risen from the sunny beams.
Sharing the glory that it has upon everyone, it seems.
Evident by the life that it supports even in dreams,
Solar star of daylight hours continue as nature deems.
Till nightfall approaches while another completes the set.
Helping to guide travelers for centuries the positions to get,
Evening ignites different phases upon this satellites debt.
Monthly revolutions of this celestial body sway the hours.
Orbital bliss has spoken richly along with romantic flowers.
Opening souls in sensuality and fulfilling romantic powers.
New moon to which many have fell into its magical showers.
Splendor of the night as it falls to set upon the new dawns light.
Exemplary versions follow a pattern, which marvels natural sight.
Take notice of what you may be missing each upcoming night.
Said, I’ve heard, old sailors delight, shining, enchantingly bright.
Supporting killing children
they will never ever get my vote again
when you abort a baby
your aborting God from your life
Non-christian parties
now they manifest in our country
protect the eight and democracy our freedom
Any party that supports death as a way forward
has lost my vote forever more
and I am not alone in this opinion in protecting our eight
to keep democracy safe and real
not infiltrated by foreign demons
Turning away from the commandments is a poor state of play
twisting every good value and deed pretending to care
offering choice a word that was given from above as a server
Pro killers I call anyone
who supports these doctor Shipphams
every soul has the right to live
Funny how good values has become the silent facts altered
people are afraid to be real and voice the truth as having the highest value
What kind of clown government calls a referendum
to remove certain protections at the cost of over 25 million
better they kept our country as is and house real problems
Beginning with the homeless and show caring compassion
rather than squander the money promoting sin
True Irishmen and Women would turn in their graves
they each and every one would lay their life down for their children
not murder them as this country needs to awaken
freedom has been removed bit by bit
this shedding blood is inhumane
it's time we stand in numbers for God
He is the chariot of our light
Unlike the number one which stands as one straight line,
the number I am thinking of supports three other lines on top of it,
and these three other lines are also straight.
We see no curving lines like which appear in numbers
zero, two, three, five , nine, and in double-bubble eight!
Number seven has one short line jutting from its tall leg,
but the number I am thinking of
on just one leg is balancing three lines of equal length,
which if you were to finish them off, would form a perfect square.
Fair and square, this number means stability.
It’s safety, security and strength.
How strong is its foundation to offer the calmness
we would find inside the walls of our own homes!
Embodying the number of those things we most depend on -
our seasons, our directons, and the elements -
how special is this number I describe.
A number of spirituality too, it stands unique among
the single-digit numbers.
Feb. 10, 2020
For Juliet Ligon's What's in a Number Poetry Contest