What Is Poetry
I ask myself,is poetry the rhyme of two
words or the meaning of the overall poem
,the passion in my voice,with the poem of
my choice,The mood I feel? Who can tell me?
My poetry is a unknwn Mystery
All these questipns whirling inside my head
I realize poetry is mre than rhyming of 2 or3
Words, poetry can be high as the sky
Deeper than the ocean or as shallow as a
concieted person
I live,breathe,poetry my peom have
passion my peotry can be happy,sad
,or tragic MY POEMS IS EVERLASTING
Poetry lives inside of me its the air I breathe
I AM POETRY I ANSWERED MY QUESTION FOR
ME.
I WAS BORN A POET THIS IS ME!!
thrusting
pounding
sweating
intensity
long strokes of passion from me
wetness
jubilation
unlock your pleasure be free
skin on skin
again and again
feel it
take it
hurried breaths of exctasy
sensations
pulsations
deep deep inside of you
feel my rhythm
who you with
wanted the best
this is it
cant stop
wont stop
screams of passion it aint funny
feel the juices just all runny
no where to hide
legs spread so wide
blow your mind
get it from behind
cant let you fall
put u on the wall
slow it down speed it up
in your head is it too much
up and and down
round and round
in and out
you scream
i shout
still aint done
now its really begun
collapse to floor
want more and more
aint going no where
5 in the morning still dont care
no words just speechless
shakin
quivering
just wanna be your best
a dream come true
catch your breath
round two..............................
Passion through years does grow anew,
when tangled, are emotions, soft.
Respect is held, with trust, aloft.
Seeing more beyond, to value.
Your eyes held mine, that's how I knew,
what became of the years that fly.
They were stepping stones , as whereby,
our years together, passion grew.
Mere words can not give justice to,
the joy in our life's adventures.
From that first kiss when love matures.
George, you are my passion renewed.
Inspired for the Linda Marie's contest, PASSION PIT
Placement: 3rd
Brown straight with no signs of bounce
Thinner than paper eyes look astound
Taking a mirror I always turn around
Cheering my soul a new passion found
The gift of natural hair I treasure most
Comb always in hand to flow and frost
Creating new styles with no exhaust
Embellish each strand dark complex lost
Fervor deep inside to excel in the art
Everyday play with them as if anew start
The beauty of result brightens the heart
Many feel unusual it being a passion part
I cherish it as I love to stroll and beautify
Increases my patience in life to again try
Passion implicitly gave lessons to touch sky
Live simple yet in style...think high!
The beautiful world of books
Has long been my passion
Reading a super fiction
Hiding in corners and nooks
Romance an all time favourite
Soft tears it always brings
My heart sometimes sings
As I long to savour it
Classic tragedy comes next
With Othello, Macbeth and Hamlet
Into every castle and chalet
Though the dialect is complex
Flying with fairies and goblins
Forgetting all but neverland
Merryweather and her magic wand
And the caravan of the Bedouins
The sacred passion of reading
Opens a whole new world
Where new ideas gets unfurled
And life takes a whole new meaning
It’s scary the things I feel for you
its amazing what I want to do with you
cant wait to have you all to myself
cant believe you chose me and no one else
its been a journey of discovery
a mission of mystery
with every step an affirmation
of our love and dedication
my heart still beats only for you
my passion ablaze and it’s still just for you
the days has been glorious
the nights of passion amorous
My greatest passion is living life to the fullest,
straining every last bit of worthwhile from time
that I have left on God’s green earth.
From the very moment of birth,
grasping the thing which feeds you the most,
which gives you the most enjoyment and satisfaction,
which leaves more of you behind than that which is lost.
That to which you know you were born.
---My thing of passion is genealogy,
probably the dullest thing that could ever be.
Except to one born of my legacy.
I’ll leave behind a history of my family.
Back to 1700 is as far as I can see.
But even that much means so very much to me.
Your passion has not to be something great,
something which will turn the world.
It only has to be you, what you are, what you do.
So posterity may say “Yes that was he.”
And He will say “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
© Jul 20 2010 For Amy’s “deepest passion” contest
Touched by words not witholding passion
Caressing sweet thoughts, where the light of passion flickers in the recess
of a mind once doused dorment feelings
embers ignite a language that heightens senses
Steaming up views with articulating prose
Enchantment growing with each line
They say what lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.
The glowing passion is but a reflection of our inner fire stoked by excitement of the new.
We grope and itch in our tumble,
searing the void with passion true
until my flesh throbs most humble
to stain my brain away from blue.
You sting my skin to make me long
while ravaging qualms from my core.
Perhaps we share a force most strong
to claim this flame while we implore
dancing spirits from ages past
to guard and channel our command
with regard for passions that last
beyond our bond as we expand:
a universe of collisions
and flaring stars blazing with light
over distance to share visions
still bright this night as we ignite.
Your reverberation fills me
as our hope and passion collide,
offering up a forlorn plea
to fill this thrill along our glide.
Passion …
A Breathless – Flight
Into Beautiful, Light
then … Floating Languorously Down
into Red, Rose Petals and Our Arms Around…
Passion …
Oh You Daring-Dancing Flames
Unashamedly Blaze
You Mesmerizing Sight
adds to This Mist-Fall Night
Intense, Consuming, Sparks, and Touch Flickering
… Gold-Glow and Warmth and Whispers, Lingering…
Passion …
not just – Romeo and Juliet or Paris and Helen of Troy
not just the Fascination of a Young Girl and a Boy
but also: God and His Son, The Arts, and Songs, like ‘Ode To Joy’
and Dancing and Chocolate, Ice Cream and Chunky-Chips-Ahoy’
and when I’m Writing or Reading Poetry… Please Do Not Annoy !
I’m Happy as a Child, Playing with my Pen and Paper Toys…
Passion …
I am Pliant in Its Hands … and I am Yielding to the Pleasures
of My Passion(s)
If only she could hear that which I cannot express.
Such peace and comfort she brings every night
she lays her head apon my chest.
Within my arms i clasp onto a extension of my heart.
the chill comes apon me even in the warmth of the sun.
From every second were apart.
And I understand that which is never said.
A kiss befor I leave clings to the soul.
As passion and my thoughts remain in that bed .
I cannot see another within her eyes.
Togather we have found the answer.
To all are former bitter goobyes.
And from broken hearts we found repair.
Meeting in distant confines.
To strangers who found another inwhich to share.
Numbers do seperate us yet still.
The direction seems clear.
As passion takes over every sense of free will.
And i like a fool have become a constant clown.
Two fools when the other is around.
As my life befor seems as only a blur
I reflect apon every second.
caught in a constant state of yerning for her
Shiny and Red, heels 5 inches tall
Feeling sexy, strutting by
Straps to tease, she caught his eye
Legs like chiffon, silky and smooth
Takes him back to that winter mood
Cobbled pavements, street cafes, Paris was beautiful
Encountering the mystery of her
As the rain poured her insatiable passion flowed
Her embraces soft and hard, her scent, her touch, her voice, her all
Shiny and Red, heels 5 inches tall
Feeling sexy, strutting by
Memories now of a distant sigh
The air from his voice dries her tears
As he lets the words ‘I Love You’ caress her ears
Thirty years and more they’ve shared together
The passion as sensual still resides
Her embraces soft, her scent, her touch, her voice, her all
For him there is no other
The rain is coming down
It’s pouring like a faucet from the sky
Beating on the metal roof
To the point where nothing can be dry
I walk to the window that reveals the storm
Droplets pounding on the dirt road
Turning it into a sea of mud
It seems as if the sky is going to explode
I can feel the passion of the storm in my bones
The clatter drowns out every other sound
I can barely hear myself think
It feels as if I could drown
I can barely see out of the window
Blurring my vision of the world
When the wind suddenly picks up,
The trees seemed to be hurled
These sounds are so comforting
It brings me peace as the steady flow
Then it starts to decrease
And the fiery passion starts to slow
He says they’re perfect, though I anticipate disaster
A lover’s loss becomes a lowly patron’s cherub
This hand that he holds isn’t ever enough
So he searches for his ultimate completion
She sighs as she ponders, her mind runs erratically
Reminiscing the days elapsed
Adoration in her eyes, passion thrashing in her soul
She searches for his heart gone askew
A demanding presence disturbs his mind
With thoughts of her and her delicate heart
Her lingering passion flickers fervently now
As the truth is growing shamefully valid
The thoughts he must convey swim in his mind
Yet not one word dares pass through his mouth
Her tears must fall to reveal the blank reality
Still she defies her trembling lips
Not one word said, no move has been made
An aspiration is destroyed, yet a desire obeyed
He clasps her hand and holds her close
She swallows hard trying to moisten her throat
A passionate kiss upon her trembling lips
A covenant repaired through numerous hardships
Like the flicker of shadows from a candle's light
Having like for whats willing isn't near what passion cites
The unwilling linger in a shadow'd state
While prizes from passion's work eminate
from those who are only satisfied, when sacraficed
And from that, the passion of those is right
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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.