Laughing, whilst indifferently
Facing all, good and bad
A marvel; denied each of us
To know about. Not mad!
More than folly, some blunder
Life itself, confronting!
O Lord above! Slow to anger.
And slow to prosecute!
Here is why. What child is more cute
As, jokey, downs a thing?
the continuum continues
without pause, no breaks, no stops
swirling a merry-go-round’s path
I admire her stealth and enthusiasm
there is symmetry which I usually despise
tonight, this landscape is an exception
this fireball of pink illuminates the sky
an evening sun for the mountains
I marvel at her beauty
capturing it in my eye’s mind
no film or video could do her justice
Eyes open, arms stretch
Take a deep breath
Knees bend, back straightens
Feet bear the weight, back’s not achin’
Elbows, shoulders all work great
Brain directs the body’s fate…
The world’s alive with me, at my door
Bird’s chirping, cat’s purring on the floor
My window opens to fragrance of lilacs, roses
Sprinklers’ water-jets emitting rainbows
Outside a fawn comes running my way
Squirrels frolic to start the day
Taught not to believe in miracles
I marvel ~ teaching’s all for naught
Meaningful girl redheaded.
Daughter of John and Elaine Grey.
Mind situated
Thoughts, tensions. Mind breaks
Revelations
Tell a communications.
Kinesis
Mind reeling reading
Telekinesis
Student of Charles Xavier
Original X man.
Red headed Marvel Girl
Member of Uncanny X-MEN
Reading your mind
Powerful, Psych blasts
Showcasing immense omega-level
Telepathic and telekinetic abilities
Powerhouse mutant capable of flight,
Energy manipulation, and mental control
Psionic abilities to protect mutant kind associated
With the cosmic "Phoenix Force".
Spirit of the Phoenix
Jean Grey MARVEL GIRL Phoenix
4/19/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
Tony rouses, his circuits buzzing,
the taste of copper lingering in his mouth.
A battlefield stretches behind his eyelids—
always the same one.
Natasha counts her scars like rosary beads,
each one a prayer she never spoke aloud.
The red in her ledger has faded to rust,
but the weight remains.
Steve stands at the window,
his reflection a stranger from 1943.
The shield leans against the wall,
waiting for hands that feel too old.
Thor’s laughter shakes the rafters,
but the lightning in his eyes dims
when no one’s looking.
Asgard is a ghost in his voice.
Bruce folds his rage into origami cranes,
tiny and precise.
The other guy watches from the shadows,
quiet for now.
They gather where the sky is bruised with twilight,
a fractured constellation.
Although the earth keeps revolving,
we humans applaud their brave enterprise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I trace the ridges of my suffering~
each one a canyon carved by time,
a story etched too deep to fade.
But You—
You wear them now,
like sunlight wears the shadow,
like the tide wears the shore’s jagged teeth.
I do not know how hands unscarred
could choose to bear the marks of mine,
to let them graft onto Your skin,
as though they were always Yours.
And when I wake to the old ache
of guilt and shame,
their shadows still lingering in my bones,
I remember~
You took it.
Not in metaphor, not in theory,
but in flesh, in weight, in breath.
So here is my thanks,
not with pretty words that rhyme,
but with the quiet marvel
of a heart that no longer bleeds alone.
fish parading
colours only seen in dreams
~ saltwater marvel
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
I find myself
So marveled
At the layout of it all,
By that I mean,
Existence,
That the personified
Ambition
Sits next to me, buckled.
But definitely not driving.
Has ideas, that said.
Of technology’s many gifts
many receive remarkably short shrift
Yet without one of its aging marvels
the entire civilized world unravels
So, I’d like all those short shrifters
just one sweltering summer to envision
their homes ~ un-air-conditioned
lithe marvel with wings
progeny of pegasus
~ proud magnificence
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Oh Allah, I marvel at Your power divine,
No pen of mine could ever define.
You’ve crafted the universe flawless and grand,
From Your perfect laws, I take my stand.
Every creation has its destiny and way,
I’ve found no flaw in what You display.
The heavens, the earth, the mountains, the seas,
Life and death—all by Your decree.
At Your will, tears can flow from the blind,
Stones may fall as rain from the skies.
Floods, storms, and disasters of every kind,
Begin solely by Your command to arise.
Your power is boundless, endless, supreme,
We are but a fraction of this vast dream.
Humble yourself, see how small you are,
And make your brief life beautiful, near or far.
A cathedral, a petrified forest,
reaching, striving for the celestial.
Arches, skeletal fingers,
grasping at the impossible light.
Sunlight, a fractured diamond,
filtered through stained glass,
painting the stone emerald, sapphire, and ruby.
Shadows, deep, cathedral-black,
sculpting the silent prayers of centuries.
A silent guardian, this stone sentinel,
?watching the world drift by,
listening to whispered prayers,
unfolding like ancient hymns in the air.
The nave, a tunnel of ethereal light,
lost in the echoing grandeur,
a testament to faith,
a timeless whispered prayer.
Time, a phantom, dust motes dancing,
within this cathedral of stone,
forever caught, eternally suspended.
A whispering echo of ages past.
The intricate carvings,
whispering tales of kings and saints,
faith and fortitude,
are woven into the very fabric of stone.
A sacred space, breathing with history,
a symphony of stone and light.
A timeless hymn, carved in stone and glass.
A silent vigil, eternal.
Stone, kissed by salt, sighs on the isle,
A Gothic spine, against the tide's guile —
eight centuries, etched in weathered stone,
A whispered prayer, a lonely throne.
Granite fingers, reaching for the sky,
Embrace the sun, as shadows fly.
As a timeless grace, the abbey stands as
A sanctuary in this watery space.
The sea, a restless, murmuring friend,
Whispers tales, to the tide's relentless end.
Each ebb and flow, a rhythmic beat,
A soul's lament, on an island's feet.
Columns rise, like ancient trees,
Reaching heaven in the salt-laced breeze.
Tranquil silence fills the air,
Faith's fragile bloom is beyond compare.
Granite heart, a watchful eye,
On shifting sand and moonlit sky.
Time, a tide, relentlessly sweeps,
The abbey stands; its purpose remains.
A whispered hymn, on wind-blown waves,
Hope, a beacon, on these lonely caves.
The abbey's soul, a steadfast light,
A testament, to human might.
mermen of marvel
twixt the sandbar and horizon
delighting my eyes
a cool spring Midwestern morning
the preacher started his sermon
a guest preacher known for fire and brimstone
the little country church was filled
censuring the flock about their sins
claiming to be sin free himself
he said he was perfect like Jesus Christ
and that's when it happened
two large front doors blew open
gust of wind raced down the aisle
happened so fast and ended so quick
the little country church was dumbfounded
his hair a mess his papers scattered about
with Bible in hand and rumpled suit
he walked down the aisle and out the door
the little country church sat in silence
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.