Amidst the rocks on the edge of the land
Casting its light, a faithful friend stands.
Low in the shadows of the crests and troughs
Lies hidden danger when seas are rough.
But this lighthouse spreads it's loyal beam
To alert captains to what can't be seen...
A metaphor for a friend like you
Who generously lights up those around her too
Who shares her light of joy and love;
The darkest shadows you rise above.
Thank you for reaching out your hand
Like the faithful guardian sheds its light from the land.
It just flows and ebbs along it seems
One day passion rises like a torrent
Another it just trickles like mountain streams
Sometimes times love can just be bumpy
Like a boat ride would be at times
Other times it can be fast and furious
Just like when the nearby church bell chimes
But love can be a wonderment
To be with us all our days
And have that some special in your life
Just like the love song says
As we ride the rivers waters
Metaphorically speaking, at least that’s a thought
And make the most of what we have
Love is free, it’s never bought
Like a river love in endless
Will run and run and run
At least it will if you make it work
Full of feeling and lots of fun
So next time you pass a river or stream
Just think about the water and what it can represent
Because nothing brings more pleasure into your life
Than what these four words mean in their content
So always remember that
Never let it fade away
Like the ever flowing river
Love will always be there every day
We are all created spread our wings scatter ourselves throughout life
Love, it is like trying to nail Jell-O to a wall/tree,
or trying to catch a big yellow bee.
Love is like wearing your heart on your sleeves,
never knowing them or ourselves or thieves.
When you stand in it, you feel every current against your skin.
When you float asleep, eyes closed —
you are still carried downstream —
but you no longer feel the water.
Winter on her window's pane, separating
the sinews from frost; both really burn so cold;
she darkens with fingertips discovering
Winter's stillbirth like glass
Winter in February's wind that mirrors
the window that's shaking without breaking her,
a broken icicle first dripped first, after
Winter's stillbirth like glass
Winter air left an angel's breath in her womb
where the snow had fallen, now white stitchery
on scared, scarred earths — nothing stays baby or dead;
Winter's stillbirth like glass
Winter slides like tears down her own window's cheeks,
she touches her even in the white-hot sun —
her insides now step in grass flowering, none
Winter's stillbirth like glass
Love is like a River
It just flows and ebbs along it seems
One day passion rises like a torrent
Another it just trickles like mountain streams
Sometimes times love can just be bumpy
Like a boat ride would be at times
Other times it can be fast and furious
Just like when the nearby church bell chimes
But love can be a wonderment
To be with us all our days
And have that some special in your life
Just like the love song says
As we ride the rivers waters
Metaphorically speaking, at least that’s a thought
And make the most of what we have
Love is free, it’s never bought
Like a river love in endless
Will run and run and run
At least it will if you make it work
Full of feeling and lots of fun
So next time you pass a river or stream
Just think about the water and what it can represent
Because nothing brings more pleasure into your life
Than what these three words mean in their content
SIX SIDES, SIX WAYS, FORWARD OR BACK,
THROUGH NIGHTS AND DAYS.
UP OR DOWN, TO LEFT OR RIGHT,
THE ROLL DECIDES OUR PATH IN SIGHT.
YET THERE'S A FACE NO HAND CAN FIND,
THE SEVENTH, BORN WITHIN THE MIND.
IT IS THE CHOICE TO BREAK THE THROW,
TO WALK THE ROAD YOU CHOOSE TO GO.
OPPOSING SIDES WILL SUM TO SEVEN,
A BALANCE BOUND BY FATE AND HEAVEN.
BUT WHEN THE WORLD GIVES ONLY TWO,
THE SEVENTH PATH BELONGS TO YOU.
My love is like a crystal stream,
That threads through stone with patient, silver will;
Not loud with boast, nor bent by passing dream,
But clear and deep, and faithful, standing still.
Where storms descend and muddy torrents rage,
It keeps its truth, unclouded by their roar;
Time tests its banks with slow, unpitying age,
Yet finds the current purer than before.
The sun may steal its sparkle for an hour,
The frost may bind its motion in the night,
Yet neither heat nor cold commands its power,
For constancy restores it to the light.
So long as hearts seek rest where truths endure,
So long lives this—and keeps my love secure.
"Christmas is a season of
not only rejoicing but of reflection. "
Quote by _ Winston Churchill
I unwrap the Christmas decorations,
stored in tattered boxes for years;
such old, delicate, fragile creations,
and I am soon weeping sad tears,
for I can hear the ghostly whispers !
Some have been passed down and down,
and now they all belong to me;
I see my great-gran shopping downtown,
where the snowflakes fall feathery,
as I place balls on my Christmas tree !
Yesteryear Christmas's joyful and sad,
I still feel all those gone above;
and knew that Santa was really my dad,
such great childhood wonder and love,
and outside is a chirping white dove !
Later, friends are coming over for some cheer,
do you wish pie, sugar cookie or a tart;
will serve coffee, tea, wine and beer,
Christmastime will always be in my heart,
and my memories will never depart !
While most view T-Rex as extinct
To a romping reptile Don's linked!
Their shared DNA
Lets the T-Rump say:
We’ll stampede with orders I’ve inked
In the storm of life, my voice is like a lost feather,
A silent wind seeking its path where thunder has ceased.
They strive to hear, but silence is all they find,
As if in my quiet there is nothing to be told.
Some call it sweet, like a gentle and enchanted brook,
A lullaby lost in a distant dream.
Others laugh, saying it's too weak, too small to be heard,
A shadow of sound daring to fall into infinity.
I speak, but the world does not listen, words fade into the wind,
A mute song and a secret that remains unrevealed.
A gift left unanswered, a cold hand in waiting,
Perhaps my voice is meant for another realm where longing is felt.
But here I am, gentle, like a silent river that yearns to flow,
With the strength of whispers rising and silence breaking apart.
Gentleness may be a grace, a soft echo in a ruthless place,
A song not meant to shout, but to sing, a wind beneath the wing of hope.
Even a whisper can shape the sky, with its tender breeze,
A breeze that makes the stars sigh in the dream-filled night.
In this silence, this deep and quiet art,
Lies a force that moves the heart, a mystery that keeps us united.
As the maestro meticulously draws sound from the strings,
Feelings and sensations the music brings.
A skilled violinist performing with skill,
Can lull your heart and make it still.
The maestro has a story to tell,
And with his violin he tells it well.
Quickly rising with a higher pitch,
Then fallings again as in a ditch.
Bow across strings faster and faster,
A building crescendo by the master.
Then the soothing of a softer sound,
A sense of release the artist has found.
It’s much like life with its ups and downs,
A revealing balance of smiles and frowns.
BiteSize Poetry Contest no121 // Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Contest Judged: 9/1/2025 1:49:00 PM
( 3rd Place )
Written: August 20, 2025
Each word a note, a quiet song,
lines rise and fall where hearts belong.
Pauses hum as loudly as the sound,
meaning dances, turning all around.
Rhythm threads through every heartbeat
and soul and melody at last meet.
Love is like a void until it will accept you it's gonna deprived every qualities of your, but the best part of these voids is that one day it's gonna accept you or leave you and then you will get your qualities again but you will see it with her eyes. Because that's what made you choose between your qualities and love and, you chose love and that was your biggest sin.
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.