Details |
Limerick
|
ignore the wet cookie of Cardi B
but frisk Dr. Seuss strolling down mulberry street
burning of books is beyond bad
a Nazi night of broken glass
it's a simple matter of freedom of Sneetch
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Details |
Acrostic
|
Y ou
E ntered my life
S owing seeds of freedom
T earing down all my walls
E nticing me to become me -
R eal in a sense
D rawing me out
A ssisting me to embrace all that is me without
Y earning to be the person the world think I should be
©160815082013
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Details |
Couplet
|
LAMENT NOT FOR THOSE GONE
I would rather die than stay; your pleas have now all been answeredFor you, your troubles are over and your plane to freedom cancelled
AND FOR THOSE YET TO COME
Indiana Shaw . . . -_-
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Details |
Free verse
|
some ****ed in the mouth, put blades
He was not absurd
to give us words.
we have given ourselves
to appear more beautiful
to love otherwise
criminals
to be perfect
we do not feel alone
+ need to explain
why and how, etc..
all are funny
and finally I do not understand
Where is He in all of this!?
look
Can it and shout:
Oh, my God!
but I must take care
to pray
not be afraid
to forget all the words
me to stay away
because some of they make a love of this things
just for them.
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Details |
Free verse
|
He's grown up now,
Has become a little man,
Time for some independence,
Yet, there is that longing...
to be a little one again,
to be the centre of attention,
to be fed by his mother,
to be safe within the four walls of home...
He doesn't want to grow up so fast,
Not yet...
He wishes to savour his freedom
for some more time,
He wishes to go back to playing all the time
with no restraints,
At the same time, he also wishes to make new friends
in his new school...
With conflicting feelings in his heart,
He steps into this new adventure,
this new phase -
The school phase.
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Details |
Prose Poetry
|
Me n my dame,
Fight together for hours a day;
Yet unfinished business,
Start over same again;
Today the day of,
Fight over the 'love';
She Murmured gazing me:
"In love no pair fights,
We fight together day and night,
Been fighting for decades";
I broke my silence:
"Though we don't agree,
To each other's thoughts;
The freedom in us persuades,
Think what we feel;
Argue to influence and
Inflict own thoughts;
When one submits,
The freedom wanes;
Love Is blend of sweet,
Salt and sour as spiced feast;
For decades,
We stayed together,
In blend of spice;
This is the 'love',
'Love' is live together,
'Love' is blend together,
'Love' is live for each other;
' Love' is may fight, cheer,
Yet share body and soul";
© Sadashivan Nair
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Details |
Free verse
|
Windmills
The castles in the distance,
are rocks arranged in order,
to match the need of escape,
and the ultimate inclusion...
of self-sufficiency and freedom.
Monsters in the dark,
some of our own making,
most tangible even to the blind.
Yelling things at us loudly,
but no one hears...
anything,
but sublime.
Storms on the forefront,
of every new beginning.
The map ever-changing before our feet,
The goal elusive and yet complete.
Looking for a ribbon,
of yarn or thread?
Turns out to be kite string,
running through our head.
Laughing barefoot in tall grass,
remembering all that has gone before,
yet look forward to what is coming,
a tsunami of water; a whole ocean,
to ride a wild wave to the very stars.
As I know that is where...
you are!
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Details |
Verse
|
You; him or her, anyone can tell me I am wrong..
Each and everyone is entitled to their own opinion..
Each one has a word or sentence to say..
For this is freedom of speech..
However, must one speak this much to cause hurt?
Must one use this to cause abuse?
Must one utter such to destroy or discourage someone?
Must one reply in a disrespectful manner?
Oftentimes, VERBAL ABUSE is so common
Yet oftentimes so unnoticeable..
It is oftenly committed by anyone .
For in heightened emotion one gets uncontrollable...
I am a quiet type person..
Don't want to speak up when I can handle..
Though all patience reaches its "red line"..
All controlled emotions reaches to burst...
Thank God no tears fall
For I'm not use to speaking much
I feel a torn unleashed in my heart
As I speak the hidden words I long been deny...
by: olive_eloi
27/09/2013
7:30am
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Details |
ABC
|
I am well conversant with the the art of war
how can i not?
Other than the fact that each day is a survival on this planet
My father was a freedom fighter
See!
Sovereignty runs through my veins.
Am fortified.
Beauty and personality are my bow and arrows;
Charisma has been known to bring down Berlin walls.
I polish my brains and character daily
Being Smart is something my father would recommend.
Bible and faith are my defender
after all,every physical,emotional,psychological battle in this life can only be won spiritually.
Am fortified.
You standing by my side,and i have never been more stronger.
I am no longer me',its We.
In my inadequacies,you refill my cup
When my maths don't add up,your intelligence save the day.
My missions are no longer 'stand alone',I have a co-pilot.
Am fortified.
I always knew i was born to reign
now with your love as my guide and guard
my walls will never taste defeat
My kingdom shall never fall
Am fortified.
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Details |
Free verse
|
KILLING HER OWN.
She carried him for months,
The pain and the suffering
All now dressed in new pants,
The commencements
Dumped in the street
A stranger picked and raised him.
Nursed by not his own,
Life isn’t a given.
Is this what our mothers have become?
Is this what the fiber of our ancestries have become?
Is this what we call freedom of choice?
Is this what we call civil rights?
Killing him for the crime he didn’t commit!
What happened to mother’s love?
That he was promised on conception.
Do you have to break him when your vows break?
Do you think you must dump him when his father disappears?
Do you think you have to destroy him when your heart dies?
Leveling your displeasure with his breath.
His lifeforce will haunt you to hell
His bones will bellow loud through the prison walls,
His innocence will echo through the temples
All the way to the gates of heaven
Until justice is found
Why killing him for the crime he didn’t commit?
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Details |
Free verse
|
The weight of my heart feels heavy,
As I watch you talk about leaving.
A pit of despair swallows me whole,
As I imagine a world without you, alone and cold.
Every whispered word of freedom,
Feels like a death knell for our love.
I try to understand your longing,
But the pain of losing you makes my heart feel strung.
Am I not enough to make your heart sing?
Is this partnership not worth the fight?
These questions taunt and sting,
As I try to make sense of your sudden flight.
The crushing weight of heartbreak rests heavy on my chest,
As I hear you speak of freedom, of leaving all the rest.
My mind races with fears, with questions left unasked,
As I watch my happiness shatter, an impossible task.
What of all the dreams we shared,
the plans we made for life?
The hurt and pain of these thoughts cut deep within my soul,
As I witness your desire for freedom,
as you plan to tow a different role.
The thought of you moving away,
of leaving me behind,
Rips my life apart,
my heart in desperate bind.
©Chitra Arun
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Details |
Epic
|
Africa Today
New ways now in Africa
Yet this men pull our steps back many confuse of why
Yet keep keeping hopes alive
That for sure without action is of vain
Africa today
I see it coming the days of freedom
For today shows a near truth
That time will answer
I see it coming the days of equality
For this wars will surely stop
the gravities it bears
Is out of our redemption
Africa today
Africa this Africa that
All over the globe
We are not what is been shown
The truth is from the beginning
A threat to world vampires
on their empire their is no love
No go area they place us
So now we are so called
Third world people
What a classification
From our today
Morden civilisation
Africa today
If I say mankind today is unkind
What may be of it sense to reality
In a world rich in all ever imagine
Now what is the story
Today is like a turn of a return
Exchange of no change
Deaths and no report
Just as a morden trends
Yet hearts to guide
Remains heartless
As it Is a reality of the
Africa today
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Details |
Ballad
|
I stand alone on a busy street and think of you.
The world around me is moving, but I am standing still.
My heart has lost interest and its warmth fades into the distance;
But then I think of you and I wonder,
Would I trust you if you could heal my pain?
Loose, dark curls frame a face that seems so familiar.
Your eyes probe into my soul and call out to my heart.
More than anything, I want to run to you - into your arms.
In your eye I find peace and I taste freedom on your lips.
I could stay near to your heart if you could heal my pain.
Your arms reach out for me, your voice calls out my name.
I step towards you, but my heart clenches with fear.
If I come to you, will you keep reaching out for me?
Or will you drawback and walk away with my heart?
Would I still hide in the darkness if you could heal my pain?
I want to be with you and remain close to your heart.
I draw strength from your hands as you hold me up.
My soul craves the warmth and depth in your eyes.
I find happiness when I feel your arms and hear your voice.
I would never fear again, if you could heal my pain.
© 1997 Cherie Fleming
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Details |
Free verse
|
There's a spot in my life that's
been void filled and I cry with
a morbid intensity when I think of
him as I do now. He's healed
something baggage born so I can
leave it in a waste basket. I can
stare at his innocence for hours and
plead for his happiness in all that I
dosay--I double dare to be all he
sees and desires not to dread. Swim
pool water eyes glimpse his face, his
manner mighty in cause and jolly at
what his fantasies are. I've not missed
anything so like this moment that I
carry his picture, his soul, his incarnate
within me---at all times. Worthy worry
span my capabilities to challenge me for the
"mirror mirror" my reflection is his
reality; am I ready for/to be the casual
task bearer for him to model to be
himself and unlinked to the scattered
Sociopotpourri he's likely to ever encounter.
Not to shield or shell his karma
Not to woe in his wilfulness
Not to denegrate a copious freedom format
for fatherson ambigupatriarchophobia decline
but to hold him to my dear heart chest
to die for him in allways to make him
at no cost in allways a human being.
a Bull for all seasons. I love you my sons.
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Details |
Blank verse
|
It feels good to scream.
Too shout to the top of your lungs,
with all your might,
with all your pain,
with all your air,
that fills your black lungs
damaged by years of cigarette smoke,
to feel your dieaphram expand
to feel your chest expand,
to feel your heart skip a couple beats,
thump. thump. thump.
Put you face to the pillow
breath in. Let it all come out.
Let
it
all
come
out!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Feel the lunatic release from your head
free the demons from your soul.
Let
it
all
out!!!
Scream like there is no tomorrow,
feel the pain go away.
It feels good to scream,
to get it all out.
Then light a cigarette,
breath in
drink whiskey,
red wine,
sit at a hunched over position,
at a typewriter
and scream with words on paper
and go down and get your screams published.
Then everyone can read, and hear your screams
and not just your neighbors.
Let
it
all
out!!
It feels good! Trust me. It feels good.
It feels good to let it all out,
let it out,
don't deny yourself freedom
let it all go,
free yourself,
free your tourmented soul,
fill your cancer filled, black lungs
expand your chest,
crack your sternum
and feel the pain go.
Let it all go.
Let
it
all
out!!
It feels good to scream!
|
Details |
Free verse
|
Unkosi Rholihlahla Mandela,
born into the Madiba clan in the village of Qunu
grow up in Mvezo in Umtata,Transkei
Dalibhunga, the prince of the Tembu tribe
son of umama Nonqaphi Nosekeni
son of Nkosi Hendry Mphakanyiswa Gadla Mandela
father of South African freedom
ward of Chief Jongintaba Dalindyebo
at the Great Place in Mqhekezweni
acting regent of the Thembu nation
boy from the Thembu royal homestead
icon of peace and justice.
sun that rises in the grim atmosphere
commander-in-chief of Umkhonto we Sizwe
dedicated himself to the struggle of the African people
South Africa’s greatest son
the greatest leader of our time
the giant of the South African history
the Son of Africa’s children
uBawomkhulu,
the man who pioneered the new patriotism in this unique country
the principal of his destiny
the commander of his soul
he represented hope and freedom
through his dignity, through his triumph, he inspired millions
the father of our nation
He who will live on in the hearts & minds of people throughout the world
the one who cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society
he who taught us reconciliation
he who embraced his enemies
one of the brightest lights of our world has gone out
a great tree has fallen
the son of a Tembu tribal chieftain is gone
Siyakuhlonipha
Tata Sizokukhumbula
Hamba kahle Tata!
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Details |
Free verse
|
Born wearing ballet shoes
without knowing,
far in the deep nature,
in the Sakhalin Islands,
a ballet star opened his eyes
for the first time.
Warmed by the love of his
family, he grew up happy
until his life changed.
He travelled without ballet shoes to Riga,
where he saw a new beginning,
still warmed by his mum.
A beautiful blond seven year old boy
started to be rebellious.
A worried mum took him to a ballet school.
He started to dance in an old Soviet school
with many others without names by then.
His ballet shoes fit him so well
that made his jumps popular
all over the world.
Swam Lake, the Nutcracker...
All the best performances for one dancer to be danced.
He flew away to a new country
looking for liberty, which he found for a while.
Money, which he never had before,
opened many doors for him,
as well as popularity and freedom.
Long wings for dreaming above the poor life he had.
Long wings for a beautiful bird
that didn't know how to fly.
Instead he prefered to be keeping fit at day,
showing his best face to be display for the others, but drowning in a glass of miseries and memories mixed
who knows with.
He lost his ballet shoes at the age of 45,
not far from the sea,
kilometres away from his home.
Alone, without anyone knowing,
even his "best friends",
he left this world,
and he didn't know how loved he was,
but the whole world wonders why
we didn't love him before.
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Details |
Abecedarian
|
A TRIBUTE TO JAMES FRASER: "IT'S NOT AN ACCIDENT"
Accidentally clicked but perhaps, its the angels
bewitched who bring me to your poem pages. Scanning
closer, like a curious child, I leisurely collide,
dancing even from high to low notes
engraved effortless to your humming runes.
Finishing one, two and three,
golly! I am beguiled to read more! Tell me,
how can I stop?... when there--
inked a scarlet flare of beauty and beast.
Jam-packed phrases conjuring tease and please,
kindling somber deserted moods,
leaking maybe a legal frown or grin from lips.
Medley thoughts you combust exhale
neutrality, passion, your story and dreams.
Olive green sprouting slow amidst your dark
pencilled winter woes. Your life experience
qualify you to relish: sweet to bitter
repertoire verses.
Sometimes a prison of rules
taunts, you freely toss tangles
unto my sleeping nerves luring undulations, but!
Voila! once analyzed and understood
warbles wonder and freedom of thoughts!
Xenodochy and respect you humbly express,
yielding liftless your good attitude. James...
Zone to zone you may be, God and me loves thee!
______________________________________________________________________
***Xenodochy -- hospitality, kindness to strangers
CONTEST NAME: TRIBUTE
Contest Sponsor: Silent One
~~first place~~
10:48 pm, August 05, 2015
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Details |
Rhyme
|
I wish we could talk
And have a conversation
A mental exchange,
Intimate relations
Intimate meaning close
Not a sexual situation,
Just a heart felt dialogue
Of personal information
But you don't want to do that
You're not into risk takin'
You don't want to open up
Love is too much for you to take in
We're so used to being fake
Never learned to be real
Never learned to be honest
And just say how we feel
I wish that I could know you
And look you in the eye,
To understand you in your essence
Opposed to your disguise
I'm interested in the truth
You don't have to tell me lies
I'm not trying to judge you
Human error is natural, it's no surprise
Our mistakes make us who we are
By our experiences we become wise
You should own them, not ignore them
Truth leads to freedom, not demise
But we're so used to being fake
Never learned to be real
Never learned to be honest
And just say how we feel
You know I won't betray you
Don't show face in front of me
I'm the one that you can trust
I would never do you dirty
But you feel safer when you're guarded
Only show what you want others to see
You figure if you wear a mask
You retain your dignity
Too much pride to be yourself,
Pride covering insecurities
Hating to be vulnerable
Dodging all inquiries
So used to being fake
Never learned to be real
Never learned to be honest
And just say how you feel
To me, you're like a riddle
I have to read between the lines
Upset when I don't get you
But you know I can't read minds
Communication is the key
Without it, logic is blind.
When deep feelings go unexpressed
Tight relationships unwind
I'm not going to rush you,
This process may take time
But talking is the glue
By which two hearts are able to bind
But we're so used to being fake
Never learned to be real,
If only we could be honest
And just say how we feel.
|
Details |
Bio
|
Behind the mirror, the man is seen
Where on our streets surrounded, Friends
Thousands met cold, untimely death
With screamed echoes of souls unrest
Bullets flied, guns blasted ceaselessly
Children dead in their mothers’ arms
Father, for his lost son searched
Found him only, with parts cut in shreds.
Behind the mirror, was the man there?
Our Young children, to soldiers turned
Educated only in field of war
Guns carried, bigger than they can bear
Faught battles, of no cause but fear
To read or write, they dared not do
But to shoot or kill, well informed they were.
The man behind the mirror, how did he rest?
Our babies, dead while he sound slept
In his glorious, paradise mirror he kept
Still offered nothing, but violence more
Promised, inflicted upon innocents, murder
If anyone dared open their mouths to speak
Or, if orders came of his seat to render.
Behind that mirror, my freedom he took
Our homes Burned; our stores looted
Citizens, chased out of a land to love
Forced into exile for years so many
Adapted to a culture so not ours
From scratch, we started to build
Until bit by bit, we rose so high above
Like an eagle, up up and away.
The man behind the mirror, for him I always blame
The color so dark, on our backs stained
Bruises so deep, forever left to heal
Visions of his bloody watch, repeatedly, us plagued
Flashbacks of dear ones loved, Snatched,
And palmed away by cruel, hateful death
With tumbled bodies over bodies
All soiled up into one tiny hole.
Behind that mirror, the man will always be
With blissful look in his red, budging eyes
Wishing evil gleefully, with a dark smile
His laughter,joy, through my anguish I see
My heart beats fast, like a thunder sound
And the more my hate for him increase
Oh how I wish, that mirror came crashing down
Then, a taste of his own medicine, he shall get
|
Details |
Classicism
|
As an orchid in his life,
a reflection from his strife...
He's a flower in his way
and he would say...
I am living as a poem...
choosing freedom on my own,
and the mask of God would
speak...
Here is a clue!
From a message he would live
an adventure that would give...
special meaning to his life...
as he went on...
This would be an evolution,
not for him a revolution...
and he danced it all inside...
out in the rain.
All he needed was a room
and a time of day to bloom...
Such a place he didn't know
where to begin.
He brought forth within a day..
what became all in his way...
His experience would say...
Life is a poem!
And he found a sacred place...
he would use it for his space...
find a meaning for his life...
but there was strife!
Pain and suffering he'd achieve,
life with horror_he would leave
all he needed to get back...
was 'on the track.'
It had been there all the while
but his life became a trial...
Could he see or would he
choose...
another path?
For a life he should be living,
was the one when he was
giving...
He was living out a dream...
that was his own...
and he became a flower...
in the rain.
All the people in his field
opened doors for him to yield,
a refreshment for his bliss...
but he would miss!
So he followed just a thread...
to a path where he was led...
in a journey that for him,
required a death!
A renewal from his past...
something sacred that would
last...
One condition for another
he would find...
There were trials and
revelations...
for a while an incubation.
He found more about himself
as he went on...
Such a dragon he would slay...
no longer bound to his own
way.to
Something greater he would
give
in all his bliss...
From a mystery in life,
he found value in his strife...
and he became a flower...
in the rain.
July 27th, 2012
from The Power of Myth by
Joseph Campbell
|
Details |
Lyric
|
She's out in the rain, on the verge of despair.
The smoke is twirling in fresh autumn air,
Ten cigarettes stand for three-four minutes each.
She's waiting for him - he is out of reach.
At last he shows up: "Hey, I'm sorry I'm late",
She sighs with relief. What a wonderful date!
He looks like a tramp, and she looks like a whore.
A flawless match. They accept and adore
The real each other with no pretending.
But if they could simply imagine the ending!
Some casual sex, brandy, vodka and weed -
The days of the youth. They are perfect with it.
The twenties will bring unforgettable nights,
Mash notes and roses. She'll be mesmerized
Unless one damned ring is the end of the end -
Routine will ruin their castles of sand.
Today she is only the pride of his pride,
A bit of fluff. Sex? Well, they two never mind.
But they are the victims you can't really blame -
Tomorrow this story will have a new name.
They'll have their freedom eroded by oaths
Of love, so pristine. I'm sick of them both!
It's time to grow up if it's not way too late -
The concept of love stands for fear and fate.
Love is alcohol multiplied by their tears,
The number of both will increase in some years.
Some casual sex, brandy, vodka and weed -
The days of the youth. They are perfect with it.
The twenties will bring unforgettable nights,
Mash notes and roses. She'll be mesmerized
Unless one damned ring is the end of the end
Routine will ruin their castles of sand.
Ten years have passed, she is still in despair.
She lies in their bed, breathing close heavy air.
Ten cigarettes stand for three-four minutes each.
She's waiting for him - he is out of reach.
He shows up drunk in his torn baggy clothes,
She leers at him. What a night for them both!
She looks like an ugly and worn-out whore.
They're no more able to love and adore
The real each other with no pretending.
But they had a way to escape from this ending.
|
Details |
Free verse
|
He tried to smother her spirit, because he was afraid her voice would carry
He wanted to own her, so he asked her to marry
He thought I'll manipulate her, convince her my way is the only way
And assert his mental control
And in her love, she followed, losing her mind and soul
His love was a projection, an expectation, that only went in one direction
She was rewarded if she complied but made to feel guilty if she denied
It wasn't all bitter, there were certainly plenty of happy times
But her voice longed to carry, leading to their demise
He set out to crush her ego, to leave her nowhere to go
For many years, she laid dormant, conforming to his dreams
And for many years, her spirit continually screamed
It wanted to be released, respected, and to see a renewal of self esteem
There were many a day that were draining, in training for his ideals
His life was her life, his wants her wants, his direction, her direction
But her voice wanted to carry, but it wanted to carry without correction
Yet this did not fit the mold
So she began to feel hollow, to wallow and eventually unfold
For the future, for the past, they tried to make it last
But alas,
His tunnel vision, lead to her decision, to open the door to freedom
The freedom to be whole, to bring back the freedom he stole
She was viewed as a destroyer; spoiled and ungrateful
He resented her resistance, he resented her voice and its reappearance
It was a threat and made him feel disdainful
Life with him was one big ultimatum, but she finally refused to take them
She began to make new demands, commands and walk across new lands
Insecurity became the measure that obliterated their treasure
She discovered the life he had planned, was of one from which she ran
Because as a young girl, her mother had made similar demands
If his love had been unconditional, then their love would have been positioned
For longevity, for perseverance, and would still be in existence
But her voice longed to carry
~ Author Mara Prose
|
Details |
Romanticism
|
"Odysseus and The Siren"
There he is
like Odysseus
bound to the mast of his ship
cursive words dispatched
through aether to
the somnolent nodding
in their stock
he avoids full brace
the Siren’s enchantment
a song that sings
his internal compass
towards her
she commands and swiftly ignites
the St Elmo's Fire burning in his mind
she is a mused and flattered bee
she is the electric storm
come to defibrillate his heart
washed up like a shipwreck
spent with all his split treasure boxes
on her Sirenum Scopuli jagged oyster rocks
wet and lush wise pearls that glisten
no ocean dwelling sprite this lark
with tale to swim in the
murky pea-green soup
with pterodactyls and
sabre-toothed sharks ;)
white-washed with lye
who in her loonish wake
he does divine delight
She, possessing wings that fly
no silver scales that sting -
her She songs lure
crazed men out
of their dark
to shine in
Lux the Light
emollient their flinty core
and like a graceful
lark midnight-winged
in full-feathered fast flight
she soars
her songs trilling
enraptured minds
imparts cold hearts to ride
with Goddesses on Gryphons
she conjures spells and lyrics
on a soft silent breeze
where mutes with a thousand eyes do listen -
'tis not her songs that men should fear
'tis in her black Silence
rips and tears
The Veil
for when her magic songs do cease
your sad loss is the moment
you are truly captured
with no release
Tenacious she will beckon you
until without resistance you
yielding to her heart
dive into her mind of
Deep Deep
then to blinding bright
Azure
Some say beware the Sirens
they are death to men
who love impart
and risk all
dusky musky sin
Ah lark that sings
Put away your periscope
this Siren bird resounds
the heat that comes with passion
words of waking liberation
that do not drug
but unravel all your
tight chaste ropes
to dream of better things
lust and longing -
have faith, one can but hope
to find the place
outside of all that fear
that steered the
Greek and Roman Poets -
to risk the circumnavigate
invisible portal
The 1 True Gate
the beating heart
'neath shelter
of her feathery wings
to find her talons holding
tight to all her muses,
mere mortals,
turn to magical beings
safe in Anthemoessa
to dream with the Gods
of LOVE
and FREEDOM
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
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