Trace me with your sighs,
Love me with your soul,
Seize me with your eyes,
Colour pink my skies,
You, my heart have stole,
Trace me with your sighs,
We have lifelong ties,
I'm yours to control,
Seize me with your eyes,
Give me passion highs,
A kiss, I cajole,
Trace me with your sighs,
My heartbeat implies -
Through life, we will stroll,
Seize me with your eyes,
As one, we comprise
Affection heart-whole,
Trace me with your sighs,
Seize me with your eyes.
If the sun shines on me or if it rains,
if I'm together or falling apart,
on PoetrySoup, I unload my brains,
on other days, unload my hidden heart.
Some days my judgment slowly starts to slip.
I then write on politics, I admit,
or try to get a laugh and lose my grip,
but here, no one calls me an idiot.
The sisters and the brothers on the Soup
who reveal thoughts and feelings in their words
comprise a supportive communal group,
lifting spirits, as from the wings of birds.
Poets like roses, each have their own name,
each different, but yet, each one the same.
We find deep inside ourselves
The traits of ancestors therein dwells
Grandpa’s eyes, our Mom’s hair
Our stature from … who knows where?
What we claim as thought process
We may be forced to re-address
Twas Grandpa Lee that caused, you see,
Our newer minds to think like he.
Our gait, as we walk around
Has origins in history bound
Great-aunt Edna, strolled about
With identical strides – long and stout.
And talents that we think so fine
Are not all yours, not all mine
For somewhere in our ancestry
There lay originality.
Our composition, it is made
Of melded steel that made our blade
For all our ancestral kin
Provided steel to place therein
We flaunt individuality
But in truth, it’s not just we
‘Tis ages of posterity
That comprise our totality
He is able
This is in the Bible
God can do what you cannot
The dream is possible
God answers clearly, miraculously, and powerfully!
Suddenly, inexplicably, amazingly
God can do what you cannot
God is able because we are His workmanship.
Tides change
But we can rearrange our paths and
We can bathe ourselves with forgiveness
We can reach our dreams
We can go beyond the brokenness
The dream is possible because God is Able
We should not let people run our dreams
The realm of possibility exists for us
We need to persist
Because our dreams will comprise different levels of trials!
We should allow our problems to push us to the reality of the truth
Where we look deep inside ourselves and
Raise our heads to the beauty of fulfillment.
The dream is possible because God is Able
The dream is the vision that we saw in the future
Which we are pulling toward the present!
The dream is possible because God is able through Jesus Christ!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
For: Line Gauthier
His resting place, an old, worn chair
Electric adjustments comprise
By night he had been sleeping there
Chair is empty since his demise
Except when our dog misses him
When empty, then I agonize
Once foretelling portents swam within the
Apogee bath.
Torn wounds in flesh,
unequip the afflicted. Lack.
Unilaterality Undesirables systematically
inspect an overture unto the future.
Incisions.
Indecision.
Discussions.
Decision.
Resolution Found between
Thigh
and
Breast Fat.
We spoke on the old West.
Distain allowed to follow
in
shadows' shoes.
Walk-
from the gravestone tomb,
Talk-
from the cemetery plot.
prefer amnesia, anesthesia, or euthanasia,
the lot.
Apposed to this undying pain,
grief,
return of
disbelief.
A contrite
Sorry resentment
Sodden in maple
Solidity.
Solidarity pushed well past
comprise while
the unconvinced so
remained that,
a sacerdotal yet
antidotal dissenter.
Go on.
Permission to let Pessimism steep in dark tea leaves.
Reverse dove beneath the San Fernando crust.
Igloo, art thou frozen?
Take heed before the night.
Sun is sinking? Yet again?
Rage, red run the right!
Anger, ice is on thy wings?
Beat them furiously!
Bee and hornet, thy gift stings!
Poison, plight, and plea!
Time enough tomorrow?
That song is getting old.
Sin, thy light! Suffer sorrow?
Golem, let's! Our gold!
Wit, comprise a stratagem!
Sizzle in each mind!
If they make it our problem?
Fizzle as you're fined.
Pain, thy chain. Let me explain?
Waiting for the rain?
O my armies, cross the main!
Blossom, O my bane!
Counted, scout? Without a doubt!
Will and woof, rise! Rout!
Remember to go without?
What's it all about?
Temper-fount, now to explode!
Best to share the load!
Squashed on highway, O my toad?
Get out of the road!
Deadly is the dawn? Sac pawn!
Hear me, Kingdom Gone!
Mow the grass on every lawn!
Carrion crow caw'n!
Reckless is the prisoner!
Breaking free at once!
Dotard, how ? Thy vision? Blur...
Gaze upon the nonce...
As the warmer temperatures rise
Suddenly storms comprise
Sun faded
Winds blew mightier
Cluster of Clouds gathered
Darkened skies got darker
Lightning bolts after lightning bolts were streaking here and there
Rain poured unmeasurable
Thunder spoke
Humility came to a brief end in cool
Refreshing soak
Storm passed
Brief and swift
Damp ground
Quickly dried
Summer storm
Many more to follow
Summer fun
Never outdone
I, myself, and me,
we comprise the royal we.
I makes most decisions,
while me or myself makes the needed revisions
to ensure we three
don’t unwittingly disagree.
Me, myself, and I,
we're a well-integrated guy.
On the whole,
we're a tripartite soul
stuck together till the day we three die.
FOUR CUBED
Four words a line,
Four lines a stanza.
Four of these comprise
Ms. Hawley’s next extravaganza.
Three words won’t satisfy;
Five are too numerous.
And, one more condition,
She’d like it humorous.
That’s two verses done
And I’ve barely commenced.
It’s not my nature
To write lines condensed.
But, if she insists,
I’ll follow her law.
Sixty one, sixty two,
Sixty three, sixty four.
Thought I perhaps should let all my friends see,
How touched I was on finding this letter to me,
Found by mistake, after so many years,
I collapsed into buckets of tears,
A treasure bequeathed to me, was meant to be.
POST-SCRIPT:
As the writing is faint
in the scan above I have typed it out
for ease of legibility.
Abu Ben Adhem
(poem by Hunt, James Henry Leigh)
(1784-1859)
Has been translated in Greek by
Dimitrios Stais (as per manuscript
in possession of his son Panos Stais)
This small note is sent to
Jennifer Alan Hunt, the great
grand-daughter of Dimitri
Stais.
Of course, poems of many other
authors of this "English Verse"
Oxford Book were translated
in Greek by Dimitris Stais,
but I simply make mention of
the one titled as above because
of the author's name. (HUNT)
May I express the
wish, dearest Jennifer, that
one of the future editions of
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
comprise some of your cherished
poems.
With lots of love
your gd father
Panos
Athens 19th December 1968
This vault seems to be accepting of my largest deposit
When you consider the number of skeletons in my closet
All of these follow me to my most eternal resting casket
Sealed by silence; to my grave, I will slave for its gasket
Knowledge of this life is never going to be shared without breaking my repository
For if it was; the memoir would be would be New Yorks, greatest best seller story
I have been a toy of others for so long as my memories can comprise
Call me selfish if you want; but I'll live for myself from now 'til my demise
When the heavens glow with starry skies
Your wonder will grow with sheer delight
As Luna gleams before your eyes
The universe will disperse wonders, makes your curiosity rise
As your imagination takes flight in the night
As the heavens glow to show starry skies
Luna will gleam before your eyes
To fulfill its purpose in the velvet night
As galaxies whirl with all they comprise
8-20-2024
Love speaks through all of the quiet,
A whisper in the hush of dawn.
In silence, it starts a riot,
Of feelings, wordlessly drawn.
It's the pause between heartbeats,
A language of gentle sighs.
In stillness, passion completes
What noise could never comprise.
Love's quiet is a full moon's glow,
Illuminating all we know.
How can we be expected to "think outside the box" when so many of us have been categorized, neatly labeled, and perfunctorily "stuffed" inside one, and have little or no idea what "outside" is like?
The world is full of shapes
That have no place in nature:
Circles,
Triangles,
Rectangles,
Squares.
Circles are pointless;
The triangle
Is the only
Stable form.
Squares and rectangles
Comprise the obstacles
And set the limits
Imposed by the world
And mold the very shape
Of one's identity.
Sub Categories
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