Yeah Cancer,
What a horrible disease
It takes away dreams and change it to sorrow
Takes away parents from their children
And children from their family
but I have a message of Hope for you today
Anything that is destined to happen will happen
because you know what, life does happen
The unexpected, the uncalled for, the unintentional
We were damaged emotionally
Damage spiritually
it may be your heart broken today
or maybe a doctor's note saying you have one week to live
that your cancer has reached the critical stage
I am here to tell you guys you are not alone
to all those suffering of cancer,
and any sort of pain & diseases
You guys are not alone
keep on persevering
keep on praying
keep on Hoping
I Know it is difficult
it hard I know,
people critize you guys
sometimes treat you less than humans
But remember there no disease that isn't
but we always have to keep our head straight
repeating to Ourselves inside, I got this, I will survive this
But I believe, as long as you have hope, you can overcome
Enough Is Enough Horn Haiku
enough is enough
trump really was terrible
so we should impeach
completely absurd
totally denigrating
should get rid of trump
had been Bellau Wood
soldiers wounded and they died
so we cried and cried
trump sure is a strain
critize, condemn complain
his hair harmed in rain
were at complete loss
that caused a total chaos
out trump we should toss
trump is a trollop
while around he will gallop
what a big whallop
need another perk
system still does work
trump has been a jerk
critical and singe
what we want will be revenge
trump we must avenge
will not be backer
trump calls soldier a slacker
what a wise cracker
may be fallacy
was a scorched earth policy
trump philosophy
heard trump and his sound
cut down those who are around
that caused heart to pound
trump looked in garage
what he saw must be mirage
could be collagen
see trump and his hair
should have heard when he does swear
much more left to spare
Jim Horn
At times I sit and comtemplate
Can we change or is it to late
Can we take back things we said
Show love and compassion instead
Can we try not to critize
Bring tears to someone else's eyes
Can we learn to give our all
And be the first to make the call
Can we take back all that pain
We caused for our own gain
Can we love not compromise
Learn to be loving and wise
Can our souls unite as one
Just feel love for everyone
Can we make this a better place
For the whole human race
Sometimes I sit and contemplate
Thoughts of love, no time for hate
carolann crowley 9/3/05
I wrote this because I am my worst critic. I'm learning how not to critize what I write.
You are a Poet, indeed you are
The words you write
Resonates deep within so many hearts
The way you pen your words
Is masterfully crafted
Poetry in motion
Full of joy and laughter
Whether you write complete stanzas
Or only a few lines
You take your reader on the same journey
You created in your mind
You have talent and you are skilled
You are the poet
The world needs to hear
Rosalyn M. Lampkin
ALWAYS
I AM.
ALL; GOOD AND BAD
IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHO I AM
INSTEAD OF LETTINT HE PAIN WIN
I CHOOSE TO BE ME…
AND GRIN.
EVERY STEP, WORK ACTION; DONE!
IS APART OF MY REFLEXION
I HAVE TO CREATE POSITIVE
FROM THE PLACE
I AM IN.
CANNOT DO ANYTHING WITH THE PAST
BUT PLAY WHAT IF?
THAT DOESN’T DISSECT ENOUGH
WORKING THROUGH MY COCOON MAY HAVE BEEN ROUGH
IT ONLY COLORS MY WINGS
I NOW AND YOU SEE
BECAUSE TO BE ME
IS TO BE HAPPY.
AND THROUGH MY NEXT STRIDE
I BEGIN TO CRITIZE
WITH EXPERIENCE ONLY
AS TRUTH’S GIFT.
YET HERE I WAKEN BY THE FORK IN THE ROAD
THERE IS NOT REASON TO LOOK BOTH WAYS
I HAVE TODAY WITH KNOWLEDGE
OF YESTERDAY.
I GREET WITH A SMILE
THIS TIME YOUR MOVE
CHECK MATE.
EITHER SIDE THERE IS A LESSON
FOR OUR NEXT ENCOUNTER
SUNRISE OR OPEN EYES
TODAY I AM ALIVE!
BORN, HERE, THNKING
LOVING HOPEFULLY
THIS IS IT!
I'm looking and looking and what do I see
I see an amazing piece of art created by a loving Potter's hand,
who took the time to mold and shape this piece.
Others may see flaws and imperfections,
may not like the size, or the shape, or the color that He chose,
but He didn't create this masterpiece for them.
He knew before He began what He had instore for this piece.
He knew that the outside was nowhere near as important as what was going inside.
I look closer and am still able to see His fingerprints
where He'd lovingly crafted the curves of His creation,
the different characteristics that He put in this piece,
to set it apart from His other artwork.
And as I look I realize that I'm not looking at a piece of art but a mirror.
It's my reflection that I see.
So the imperfections that you see in yourself, don't critize, because those, although you may
not appreciate them, are the fingerprints left by the Potter's Hands.
why can I not live up to you
I look for approval again and again
but never find it
what is so wrong with me??
I walk around you with care
like walking on the sharpest glass
ever word i say seems to be the wrong one
and even when i don't speak i mess up
you critize me as if i'm nothing
you make jokes about me in front of my face
no wonder I never find good in myself
you feed me these things as satan would
Another statiscate
Hey you
with your press on nails,
fake ponytails
and to your back hair weaves.
Hey you
with your kids in
the system while you
swearing you miss them.
But still recieving your
welfare checks.
to support the habit
that got you into this mess.
Hey you
with your slick baby hair,
claiming unknown ancestors
to disclaim who you really are.
saying your half belize and
3/4 cherokee.
to prove that your different than
the rest.
When we know that your mother
and father are *****,
and were born just up the block.
Hey you
with your golden book of words
that speak the truth.
Blessing people with your words of wisdom.
just waiting for them to come
with a comeback to critize my truth.
but hopeing they listen to the
words so they won't become
another statistic.
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.