As I have grown older, so many things have changed, from the things I dreamt of and those I never had.
Now it doesn't matter as I sit in my chair, you speak, advise and I listen but despite your mediation and ideas of immersion I still just sit.
How things have changed, how many people have gone, and still I just sit looking at the world, I have seen so much, that now I feel neither desire or aversion to the way people are.
I started as a man who set myself standards and managed peoples expectations, but here I still sit with all those conditional beliefs discarded.
People come, people go and night continues to follow the day, as I feel things slowly slipping away, I think about my final farewell, I won't say what songs to sing, just ask that all have a hymn to hum, hummed in your own special version.
GOODBYE
It's ineffable...
So why do we persist in it's expression
Bubbling up from somewhere we can't even name
It has to come out somehow, and where and how it does is unexpected
At least by those around us who're subjected to what remains
As a mystery to most... now that all is open
To that nameless hole that fills up with what needed to come out
Someday medicine might pretend to know what autopsies can't tell us
But despite what they'll come up with,,, I'll bet it isn't right
Some fancy Latin name won't begin to explain
How this spring can be continuous yet not have a known source
Just know that when the well runs dry
No matter that we knew not why
We knew it would happen by and by
In spite of where suspicions lie
In spite of who cried, "My oh my!"
A look inside is still worth all our questions
But we'll just have to live with the suggestions
What if our universe is merely a snowflake
Within a snow globe on God’s desk
And we think of ourselves as the center
When we are noticed but not the winner
Of first place for the superior species race
What if we get shaken up by His hands of love
As a reset for all the crime and corruption
The rainbow in the sky a divine sign
Of a powerful intervention a show of mercy
A chance to heal and be revealed as worthy
The first chapter was light and creation
Of a system of stars bigger than ours
And the beauty of the black sea of skies
Can be seen as God’s personal canvas
With the last page a power play missing
Created with goodness of flesh and blood
Not powerful, but sturdy
A Holy Man I know who sits high in heaven
Watches all below
Makes seas be calm
Command in still
Blowing refreshing breezes
Eases when storm arises
Mighty voice direct but serene
Sustains life and Death
Strength beyond modern man
Spiritual works seen
Stands with the world when turmoil comes
Understands creation better than they understand themselves
He is about Faith at every length
Aligns the soul with fleshy outside
A Holy Man bigger than I
He known as Thy
Reign superior
Commands and Controls
Do you know who I am?
We see each other daily
Your face looking at me
Often wonder what do you see in my reflection?
Do you see only my outer and my inner?
Hope, Fulfill and Determined seems to come out
Being Accomplished, Established and Committed assured
Successful runs through your heart
More than a reflection
Seeing the creation
Up front introduction
Revealing spirit
Open discussion
Own presentation
Mirror Mirror that knows all
You told me and didn’t stall
Mirror Mirror, thank you after all.
Arising out of
The primordial poet
The poetry soup
It's not what evolves
As each writer creates on
Tabula rasa
Like a phoenix does
Dancing in the skies above
Using silly words
Like spelling goop in
A bowl of poetry soup
Alpha and beta
And rising out of
The poetry soup, a group
Best quill and inkers
If it is conceived by the mind,
sanctioned by the heart,
it’s not fiction, a measure
of the real in every storied work.
Above me is a shelf-full having outlived
their authors, many their civilizations
along with their gods. There are not fictions!
Instead, transitory dimensions of being --
journeys limited only by one’s dragging
imagination --
I will consign a heaven where poets are
royalty; seated on thrones surrounded by
fawning fans. We autograph their copies as
they wipe our profuse brows, having laboriously
bleed one’s soul into the pages. Wherever
they are future carried and read, we are also there,
spirit cursing through Time’s Lyric Arteries….
The ancient Mariner!
That raging infernal!
Am I not the saga of my parent’s love,
each a manufacture of our God?
There is no fiction after the fact.
And woe to you, critics and editors,
savage murders of my fond text!
You are the artist, you're the poet.
AP: 2nd place 2026
One's haven- a place where happiness sings;
true, comforting peace to all lives it brings,
as strolling in parks or feeding sweet birds.
But mine is the sanctuary of words.
The scenes in my mind direct them to come
to build an image or story, become
the tools that can shape, redress simple thought;
in capturing words, the best ones are sought.
This haven I seek, on fair or gray days,
immersed in the field of words that amaze.
Though battles are fierce, when each write is done,
sweet comfort rewards the word-war I won.
Not cause it's dump
Not cause it's stupid
It pointless and loveless
Blame it on Cupid
It ain't centered
It lacks sentiment
Get what I am saying
Even if it's not want I meant
Theres ah new way of loving
The one you thinkin of and
See what you are saying
And we aren't playing
E'ry one knows it's us
You and I
Love and lust
Ooh be-doo-bee auh ooh!
Let you kiss me when you see me
We can doo- dottil around
You be the serious one
Let me be the clown
Next time we meet
We'll spent precious time
Together
What ever it is
Whatever the weather
Pling told Pling , plung, plung
The strings were tense
And strung
The words were reversed
What came next was
Put first
Love was I am singing
Love the joy this sound
Is bringing!
The Robots are here, with more every day
to mimic our actions in work and play.
They're programmed to help in all that we do
and serve with allegiance, steadfast and true.
As time goes by, increasing their score
with added AI, their "brains" do much more!
Expressions will change as eyes flash, beware;
belligerent smiles strip away care.
Intelligence shows a semblance of thought;
programmers express, “what have we wrought!”
Compared to old days of witchcraft fear-
new era of Robots- lord keep us clear.
Those Witches of folklore, evil or not-
won't match the terror of what we begot.
Father, I have left school as the smartest.
Are you proud of me?
I have conquered the known world.
Father, are you proud of me?
I have created kingdoms and religions where all bow to your surname.
I ask, Father, are you proud of me?
Mother says she is proud of the person I have become.
Yet I look to the stars: Father, are you proud of me?
I have sacrificed so many days and nights, now they are just memories I forget.
Father, are you proud of me?
CITROEN
The car of Four Door
Ahead of its time
Back in the day
My Grandfather had purchased one
He wanted a different ride
Sophistication the car would provide
Components of its own
Push Button Start
Waiting for the back of the car to rise before maneuver
Some might think of it being clever
Wait in move
As years passed, my Grandfather decided to upgrade to a Citroen station wagon
Same process only bigger
Upon trading in the Four Door Citroen
For a while it was great
It wasn’t until one of the back wheels fell off in transport of the Citroen station wagon while on the road
Pitch black at night
A Citroen became a stand still
My Grandmother stated to my Grandfather being the next time he purchases a new car, let it be get in, start and depart
No more push the button to start, waiting for rise then ride
Memory of a vintage of the Citroen family
France sensation
A car being a creation.
Creativity
An unexpected lifeblood
An unrecognized thread
The only thing driving me
forward
Through the dull familiar
You're the artist with the pen,
the painter with the brush,
the designer with the colour swatches.
You interpret your dreams,
give rise to your ambition,
create your ideal future.
Your vision crystallizes at will,
draws upon your imagination
to materialize your surroundings.
There may be times of ugliness
when the world seems dark and
intent on dragging you down.
Remember this too shall pass,
renew your closeness with nature
and replenish that innate beauty and joy.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Creation Categories
Definition | What is Creation in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
formation, production, establishment, foundation, conception, constitution, imagination, generation, origination, genesis, nascency, procreation, inception, making, institution, formulation, nativity, laying down, setting up, siring, life, nature, universe, macrocosm, totality