There’s usually, in every group,
And often evident,
One person who is not in charge,
But rather the cement.
The one who makes things happen
And who brings all factions in,
Assuring that each person’s there
And ready to begin.
The one the others turn to
When a problem might arise.
Who knows when someone’s out of line
And cuts her down to size.
It isn’t necessarily
The one with all the brains,
But someone with the people skills
To soothe disparate strains.
Without this member, groups would fade
In throes of discontent,
For gatherings won’t hold together
If there’s no cement.
At Wimbledon, on Centre Court,
The players, dressed in white,
Run back and forth across the grass,
To spectators’ delight.
Of course, in the United States,
The court called Arthur Ashe,
In honor of a tennis great,
Is where opponents clash.
If it did not have Ashe’s name,
It might be Center Court,
But note the “e” and “r” reversed,
Which U.S. guides support.
The U.S. Open doesn’t mind
What color players wear,
Unlike Britain’s rules of “colour”
With a “u” that’s stuck in there.
I realize (yes, I use a “z,”
Not “s,” as do the Brits)
That language often changes after
Factions call it quits.
It’s fascinating, really,
How our long-ago “divorce”
Somehow took the centre of the land
And moved it off its course.
Loathe the human walking in dusty trails by themself,
A rotary dial spinning round for the switchboard,
“Who are you calling today”
Dead silence on the other end of the line,
“I’m calling ‘cause I’m lost”
The caller responds,
“How can I help” rings from the switchboard,
“Point me home”
Says the voice from a landline phone,
They have a house,
A phone to call from,
Friends to answer,
But no direction,
A living, painful vivisection.
A torn page from a book who left them behind,
Cracked open like bunker rations,
Torn apart by war like factions,
Ripped from their whole like fractions,
Calling god on a landline for his benifaction,
Smothered in the holy water his whole life,
But no bath could cleanse the sins of his own action,
No rotary phone could call for help for such an infraction,
So please call me, before I lose myself in this abstraction.
My heart is heavy, and my soul falls to inaction,
My brains all I got left and sometimes it feels like the only way to reach Nirvana,
Is a pump-action.
The murre Auk is a pengiun fish like creature it has gills and walks under the ocean
on Quistoun 12. A world that had less water as earth but way more than Sutta Sol-tour
the species is often used for food. the Klingon has his facts wrong or distorted, yet his augment is noted as keen. Why are the micro colonies of Ion 4 a mattr of discussion. They have technolgy and and have mastered travel both in the oceans and on land. They have mastered space travel and often are used to things that larger species can't. It is unwise to isolate them might there usefulness come in handy. "look vulcan: said the Klingon," these species are keen and wise, like every other species they have factions that are loyal to the effords of our alliance. Be a fool to think all these memebers with laugh and dance with either federation or Klingon, they'll ally with the Romulains and will undermine all the effords taken in the so many years we;ve collaberated!"
Each time I see her face, there is a spark of immense desire
The flame dances in the wind of despair
My heart feels like it is being set on a ceremonial marriage pyre
Oh but his heart does not need to be in a state of repair
The external pack sees his happiness as a cause of joy
Each step he takes they applaud his actions and give him praise
Others may see it as a thought to destroy
To him it is the opportunity to go through the phase
A kiss from the flame is done through words and actions
The dancing flame shows his passion
He knows that her heart is not in other factions
During one night of stress, she gave him compassion
As he dreams to one day hold her in his arms
He promises to protect her from all harms
Stars, a source of light
centers for great attraction
worlds of many factions
moths of celestial flame --
Zelenskyy speaks with fortitude
A thing Vance and Trump find so rude
Now see what happens
With Europe’s factions
And how far mad Vlad will intrude
As the aster blossoms fade to gray
A thousand-strong fleet trespass upon a bay
Their leader sought to be the Lord of hosts
To wage this war he spared no cost
Then winter knell takes autumn's breath away
As the aster blossoms fade to gray
The grain has gone, the fight must cease
But sacred honour stands in the way of peace
Factions fracture with murmurs of mutiny
Under solemn oaths, they sacrifice Fidelity
As aster blossoms fade to gray
And leaves stain scarlet with the blood they pay
Ambitions die, no more can proud men boast
But innocence! They suffered most--
Forgotten, in unknown graves they lay
As the aster blossoms fade to gray
All we need to know
The present moment’s passing does not cease.
Stay in it.
Pause, learn and cherish inner peace.
Nourish mind and body for good health.
Fight entropy.
Plan, discipline habits and know your inner wealth.
Keep work, rest and play in equilibrium,
Adapt to change.
Balance out steady themes in life’s idiom.
Cherish small joys, beauty and simplicity.
Share contentment.
Keep friends to enrich life’s felicity.
Embrace challenge as a chance to grow and inspire.
Delight in purpose.
Hold direction to tend your soul's fire.
Practice humility and forgiveness.
Drop the grudges.
Compassionate acts give and receive gladness.
Align your values, principles and actions.
Plant only harmony.
Integrity, trust and respect unite the world’s factions.
On October the 7th, the precarious peace
of the disputed ancient lands began to cease.
The enraged avengers brought the Al-Aqsa flood
that deluged the Re'im music festival with blood.
Then very swiftly came the lopsided response
that decimated women and children at once.
The zionists' war machine sweeps the Gazan land,
rendering its closely compacted earth to flatland.
The Mosques, churches, schools, and hospitals are all gone.
Scores wail uncontrollably aloud as they mourn.
Having no point of refuge, refugees take flight
as they seek for bombshelters with no hopes in sight.
Hamas belligerents their explosive arrows throw
at overwhelmed defenses of an ageold foe.
Zionists with torrential explosives respond
with offensive operations within and beyond.
Oh that the Gaza strip might tranquility know!
Oh that the blood in the West bank would cease to flow!
Oh that Israel would flourish and as a nation grow!
Oh that the warring factions would the seed of peace sow!
Oh that the two warring factions would merry and dance!
Oh that the two state solution was given a chance!
Show Love, Not Hate
Miracle Man
4/17/2024
Antisemitism grows worse,
and there’s no current answer.
Hatred is eating our lunch,
like a man eating cancer.
It’s disrupting other’s lives,
forcing many to live in fear.
Protesters burn our flag,
and “Death to America“ I hear.
The world is becoming,
a place that looks blighted.
Too many are thin skinned,
and always feel slighted.
Each dispute presents factions,
with another life test.
And the answer seems to be,
grab a sign and protest.
But how can one protest,
without a catchphrase to chant.
And without harming others,
well, they just simply can’t.
The goal, keep it simple,
cause chaos if you’re able.
The thin skinned think this,
earns them room at the table.
Kansas City’s Renaissance Fair is fun; you can dress steampunk
Go as Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, or a Victorian Queen.
You can be a knight of the Round Table or King Arthur
It is embraced by several factions of people in Kansas City
Each year it gets bigger and more outrageously fun than the year before
The only thing I cannot stand to see is the giant turkey legs
They look pink in the middle, and yet, armies of people devour them
The grease drips down into their costumes, onto their shoulders,
Their cheeks shine with the queasiness of the giant turkey legs
It is the one thing I do not want to see, but the food my children love.
Written: February 23, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a grove, a feud grew, no doubt,
Fruit factions were ready to shout.
Banana sought peace,
But his pleas soon would cease,
As the orange kept stirring the route.
With a temper as fiery as flame,
Orange sought to bear Banana shame.
He shouted and yelled,
While Banana rebelled,
Trying to douse the feud's flame.
But Orange was relentless and mean,
His anger turned downright obscene.
He challenged Banana,
With no sign of mana,
Creating a chaotic scene.
Banana, in a last-ditch effort, pled,
"Let's put this feud to rest," he said.
But Orange just jeered,
And sneered as he neared,
Determined to jam Banana with dread.
Abandon your party
stand up for what’s right
The partisan madness
a liar’s delight
Honor the founders
revolt and derail
The graft and corruption
— both factions entail
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
We silently watch as our nation bleeds
Warring factions of race, color, and creeds
Discontent tramples each and every town
Misinformation will bring us all down
People believe lies despite the facts
Encouraged to commit criminal acts
Why are we blind to a repeat of history
The answer to that remains a mystery
The war's not between the left and the right
The haves over the have-nots started this fight
Challenge all politicians hypocrisy
Before we witness the death of Democracy
Sub Categories
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.