The students dream to join the clubs with pride,
Where learning blooms and talents brightly shine,
They long for fields where sports and hopes collide,
To share their gifts and make the stars align.
They yearn to read the stories, bold and true,
Of campus life and voices breaking through.
But screens are bare, no words for them to see,
No online page to set their spirits free.
The ink is locked within the printed page,
A silent echo in a digital age.
Their hearts still hope for change to come their way,
For Casay fights to bring that brighter day.
So write, dear friends, let roots of thought extend,
And branches reach where dreams and truths ascend.
Let twigs of rhyme hold whispers soft and sweet,
While leaves of green make every verse complete.
And falling leaves upon the earth shall lie,
A noble sign that time and care pass by.
Though Casay fades, his dignity will stay,
In poems born to light the students’ way.
In the race for glory, endeavors misstep;
Ethics sink in quiet waters, so much at stake.
Each manuscript claiming to be novel and rare,
Questionable authenticity laid bare.
In the maze of journals and books,
Peer review marred; integrity shook.
Citations lose their poll;
Impact factor takes a toll.
Once held in high regard, research’s prophecy,
Now, metrics belittle its true legacy.
Is this the end of a genuine era we see,
Or the dawn of a calculated façade meant to be?
PUBLICATION
In this digital age
Our
thoughts
bonded
together,
though ever apart
TWITTER
quick thoughts
cut short
POETRY SOUP
will test
the best
Pleasant people inhabit
this PS workshop of varied verse,
posting posies of many kind-
comments & opinions abound
in blogs ,of the world around-
sponsored contests in galore
brings creativity to the fore
my short poems on twitter
art ekphrasis on Flickr-
and blogs in this soup
other efforts in Sketchbook
so come now, take a quick look-
and keep in the loop
I think
so I paint,
I imagine and pen-
mix digitally together
as one
As a haiga
If I write a book of farty poems … could it be a best smeller?
03/23/21
Attention publisher's, editors & poets thank you for the opportunity to convey my work to you. It has taken me since the Fall of 1989 to build up my platform in writing. Poetry can take you to places that dreams are made of. From a far away land with kings, queens & dragons. It is a pleasant surprise to write about love in the way it effects the human soul. One can develop a deep aura in reflected there true artistic freedom. Please give me a chance at publication of my poems. We only get one chance at this life dance. It is for freedom that we represent the arts. Freedom that far to many of us take for granted. For love is the essence of my inner existence. I'm most appreciative that you are my friend. Sending shout out to all those who I have touched along the way. Live, laugh & grow... Thank you kindly, Mario William Vitale
I can't believe my eyes
An email from the publisher guys
They have enjoyed the submission I sent
It says that I am to send them now my manuscript
There's a probability that they will end up publishing, could this truly be
Is it possible that you will find a book that is written by me
In all the library's and computers ebook list you can see
the joy and excitement bouncing within this authors dream
Is there any chance you have been here with me
I would like to wish you all the gift of knowing this feeling
I hope you are going to end up with a copy of Emotional Rollecoaster
if you are to pass it in a window that you are to walk by in the future
Inspired by Frederic Parker's Without Lament - POTD 18 October 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
19 October 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
Complete the Lines Contest - Mary Oliver #1 - 3rd Place
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
26 July 2015
“Sometimes too much drink is barely enough.” Mark Twain, on Alcoholism
05 July 2015
Poem of the Day - 07 July 2015
Write With the Wit of Twain Contest - 4th Place
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
PUBLICATION RAG
Papers hadn't held her words
For twenty years or more
But ‘published’ didn’t scare her
words were sizzle branded in her core--
Past the corner soul that hides
The little suffering blueblack fears
The place within the fears
That hides the insubstantial tears
There ragged brands had healed
From raging blood to shiny scars
Blood-- now cold-- congealed
As graceful life was wrenched apart
Thus, publishing and some such
triggered not an ounce of fright
far worse black filthy dreads that
danced ablaze in burnt-out lights
So publish me, Be done with me--
she mused as on she walked--
Better to be done with it--
May end the verbiage stalk.
And though she knew
Would never end
The words that came in streams
Was truly voice of true heart friend
That called her in her dreams
And deep she knew she had no wish
To end her lifelong song--
But not to share a single word
Seemed selfish--deadly wrong.
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.