In God’s own land a child arrives with empty mind
where nascent beauty finds a niche,
encased within the frame of intrinsic innocence,
configured as blooming flower of heavenly smile,
that gets splintered by ruthless time’s brunt,
but the credulous mental clarity may last long
while the world around changes fast,
as happened with me.
A gleaming stream gliding in ebullience
flowed with splendor around our home.
On its rippling water passing me by,
I as a child sailed the paper boats
tinged with the rainbow colors.
I imagined my mariner mind sailed
on these to a distant unknown dreamland.
The boats disappeared in the sea of memory,
but those adorable tender moments gone,
live in the twilight hours with my inner child,
trying to envision life suffused with juvenile bliss,
emitting from the fountain of dormant simplicity.
Warlords take siege upon a land, a falling kingdom
Immensely, they overwhelm, they conquer their alleged king
Catch the thieves, throw them in the pyre
Keep the meek ones, revolt they shan't
Every road leads to the same inevitability
Down with the ruling monarch, a scourge upon the motherland
Is it worth the crimson soil on a peasant's farm?
Sovereignty and war for the sake of the common man?
Good men, our warlords have spoken and have
Ordained our children with a new era
Of peace, of tearless glee, of headless chicken
Down with the monarch, war is good evil.
A rumbling and a shaking
The rain heavy
The thunder roaring
Lightning cuts the sky
Trees sway belligerently
Sand and dust
Break the air
The furious wind
Encourages euphoric whims
The rod is blossoming
Pride is budding
Rumour building
Mischief upon mischief
Pounds on the earth
Mischief upon mischief
Mischief has a staircase
Linear patterns
Cascading virtues in blinking imbroglio,
Masquerading piety in a clinking tunnel
Chanting sophistry in dinky dashes
The glass fell
It could not be held
They broke the serenity
With soapy fingers
They grasped the glass
The pieces litter the floor
Another tried to piece the pieces
Which were precariously shaped
And pricked the gatherer at will
What a cock-a-doodle – doo!
Now I look to the Heavens
I see a land
A faraway land
In the distant horizon
Beyond the seas
A great solace
The people a great people
A magnificent race
Beyond the clouds
Beyond the skies
This land, a lofty land
A magnified edifice
Of kaleidoscopic nature
A worthy conglomerate
Of total bliss.
Why is this human body
enshrouded in so much shame
Who decided we must cover up
and play this crazy game
It seems to be the greatest hang up
entrenched deeply in our psyche
Do we each have physicality different from the rest?
apart from gender difference seems we're all alike
The saddest of it all is what I term
the Hollywood commercial sex sale image
Suspenders, stockings, g-strings, bras
designed to show a bit of cleavage
There was a man so shy, when he was partly naked
one day I really scared my Dad, I almost saw his bum
From that day on I often wondered
was he ever completely naked, in front of my Mum
Some days ago my wife forgot to wish me all the best
for my seventy seventh commemorative hoot
I tried succinctly to remind her
by sitting in the sun, in just my birthday suit
If I could choose a place to be, when I am reincarnated
A first nation naked man in Arnhem land would be highly celebrated
Footnote: Arnhem land a sacred reserve for the original inhabitants , the Dreamtime
People, in the Northern, Australia
The Camera Man
Depression
Depression clouds the lens, throwing it out of focus.
Distorting the images before it, altering perceived reality.
Depression hovers above like an ominous, menacing black bird,
hanging onto the winds of times passed, over its pray,
ready to swoop down with furry upon its victim with vengeance,
with razor sharp talons ready to pierce this fragile spirit’s soul.
Dragging it over shards of broken glass, slivers of glass reflecting,
refracting moments, experiences, stories that shed some light
before dropping it all into a black hole, from which seems no escape.
Times passing has deflected, yet the mirror still holds sway to the past.
The past, not but an evil land, a prison with tarnished, rusted, rotting cages
wherein lies skewed images, much like Salvador Dali’s surrealistic paintings.
The Camera Man – Depression, will either find serenity, a beautiful lake, still.
Its surface calm, un-rippled by life’s journey, reflecting not but blue skies .
B. J. “A ” 2
January 21st, 2026
It took the planted seed forever to germinate
Its beautiful blossom withered, welcoming a friendly rain
I have seen the sun fall before the dawn rises
Yet watered every sweat to the rooted root like a basket fully holding it
The Can is yours to take home; let go of the watering and allow nature to grow
It was a miraculous mirage, hoping it would turn a new green leaf
I sat with my imprisoned inner eye beneath another long armed tree
Ready to be plucked without ado or stress
Where I had no handful sown yet reaped from ripened fruitful fruits
Awakening your oblivion to the begotten truthful tale
Wherever on fertile land, a seed drop shall rise again
Adam wasn't fearlessly fearful of Eve but of the favourite forbidden fruits
(C) Yusuf, A.O
Life is a journey,a winding road,
A song worth singing,a heavy load.
But in each step,a lesson learned,
A ticket to sagacity,earned and yearned.
Here comes the sun,the rain may fall,
Bitter reality hits hard,we stand up tall,
The beauty of the land,a soothing balm,
Life is serenity,embrace peace and calm.
For in these monumental moments,
we truly live,
With open hearts,we freely give.
Life is a patchwork quilt,a grand design,
In every thread a truth divine.
In Gaza's streets, where silence screams
A humanitarian crisis, a people's dreams
Unheard voices, lost in the pain
As bombs fall hard, and hope wanes
The world stands by, a distant hum
As lives are lost, and freedom's undone
Children weep, their future unsure
Their cries echo, but who's listening for?
Protesters rise, with voices bold
Demanding justice, for a story untold
But they're met with force, with chains and pain
Their courage crushed, their voices vain
Gaza's land, a story old
Palestinian hearts, with a history told
Displacement, occupation, and strife
A people's struggle, a long, hard life
The international community, a distant shore
Their words are hollow, as Gaza's people roar
No justice comes, no peace is found
As the world watches, Gaza's life dwindles down
But still we rise, with voices loud
For justice, freedom, and a future proud
We'll stand with Gaza, through every test
For humanity's sake, we won't find rest
Let's break the silence, let's shatter the chains
For Gaza's people, we'll rise above the pain
We'll stand as one, with hearts united strong
For justice, peace, and a future where all belong
There are two days I know
Yesterday and today
Yesterday laid the cross I bear
Cross I dared not to wear
Forever we stay, they say,
But the thorns stares away
In the pasture last known to stray,
Cradle land, a means to an end
Forgive me if I stray to forever land
For my kin, I bared my soul to fend
I gave my all and my all it took
Parting is luxury for tomorrow unknown
Final glimpse I begged the stars to hide
Evil stares where eyes dared not look
In corners cloaked by fear and stain
Mara Chantal@2025
My early childhood was great, I was the first born.
My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember
spending lots of time with my doting grand-mother
who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write.
I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention.
Creativity was a game to me and I learned to value time.
When I was nine, we moved far away and life changed overnight.
I was really lucky to land a grade 5 teacher who guided me
to learn english at an accelerated rate. I was a good student.
I've always been particularly thankful to both, teacher and grand-mother.
they truly helped mold me into the person I turned out to be.
AP: 3rd place 2025
hairline chasm threads
cobweb white through obsidian—
wrapped around carved names
once warm on living tongues.
those who lived visit
with heads down,
pretending it’s superstition—
not guilt.
not memory.
not fear of love ending abruptly
in a plot of land, a handful of dates.
dusted words and
sealed memories,
but still the obsidian
counts
new leaves on the banyan trees.
they leave behind flowers—
a sigh: I came.
a silence follows them home—
petals bruised beneath their steps.
Another Soul just got his wings
Another Angel gloriously sings
From this land a soul flies free
Burdens are lifted, rise does he
To new adventures, no pain just Love
where he can watch from stars above
Time was up on this Earthly plane
but happy memories will always remain.
How did the sea become a crime?
How did its blue become a bruise on the face of history?
How did the verdure turn into red wrath,
breathing fire into burned hearts,
leaving behind it a black, frosty funeral?
How did the tree become a Fury?
Her strands of fire
strewn above the dew and tranquil mounts
Furious fire and melted iron
Lava and blood-red ink
Pumping out of the wounded bosom of the earth
Bubbling up like the foam of death
To carve an unprecedented story;
A story of a dying profound pain, reborn
In the same womb, at the same moment
Growing as rapidly as the pulsating heart of a child in terror
Lost in the land of infinite wars.
***
My land, a flickering ember
Once giving light and warmth;
The other, singeing our hearts;
Do you choose to be a beacon in the dark,
or to blow up in our faces like a blind flame of wrath?
Are you destined to turn into ash
disarrayed by the wind?
***
People might claim that the earth is not for all
But the heavens are inevitably for all
The living, the dead, the imprisoned
Happy, grieving, immersed in prayer,
For the heavens are in the hands of God the just
Never to be touched by human slaves
America's bulwark, strong and true,
Resolved to defend, the red, white, and blue.
Mighty warriors, brave and bold,
Years of service, stories paroled.
Since '75, a nation's might,
On fields of battle, day and night.
Loyalty and honor, their guiding star,
Defending freedom, near and far.
In every conflict, they stand tall,
Embracing duty, answering freedom's call.
Ready to fight, for liberty's flame,
Sacrifice and courage, their noble name.
All through history, their valor known,
Rising to challenges, never alone.
Modern heroes, with hearts of steel,
Yearning to shield, the public's zeal.
Onward they march, with purpose and pride,
Fighting for justice, on every tide.
The Army's strength, a powerful force,
Heroes among us, taking their course.
Every soldier, a testament to might,
Unity and valor, shining bright.
Serving with honor, a legacy grand,
All across the land, a helping hand.
Intro
Square up, bell rings
Square off, timed round by round
Jab and move; stick and land a punch
Score cards
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.