lashes bold and bright,
curlers crown a tiny queen—
sass starts with the brush.
Hungry minds grow
This is something we need to know
Everybody wants to be at the top
Yet many don’t want to grow while
On their way to the top
The darkness paves the way
Believing in yourself is something you need to say
Life paints an adventure with different shades
The blade of truth
Should remind you that you must not forget to pray
Find a giant and slay it
Let the blazing sun of hope
Illuminate your mind because
Hungry minds grow
This is something we need to know
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
Copyright © Mark Frank |
who's 'fraid of poems?
not I, I said. Then again,
who's 'fraid of poems?
In pursuit of curves, some choose the lift,
A quest for beauty, a transformative shift.
But amidst the surgeries, a deeper tale,
A journey where self-love might set sail.
No judgment for choices, the paths we take,
Yet ponder the reasons, the risks we undertake.
Society's pressures, perceptions we bear,
A world where self-worth is laid bare.
South African souls, playing a role,
In the pursuit of beauty, losing their goal.
Attachments for love, a side hustle unfolds,
Prostitutes and marriages, tales to be told.
Relationships falter, lost in the void,
A nation sickened, values destroyed.
In African hair, judgment is cast,
Weaves worn proudly, but shadows are cast.
Obsessed with material, souls for sale,
Range Rovers and Mercedes, a tempting tale.
In pursuit of dreams, they trade their core,
Yet later, reflections bring insecurity ashore.
Selling bodies for riches, a path they tread,
But marriages suffer, innocence shed.
In the mirror, they question love's essence,
Forgetting the purpose, losing their innocence.
I am coming right away
To say what I want to say
Though I own no Jet or car
I am no Kanye or soccer star
Can't keep this feeling no more
Being shy can be bore
If you like you can't say no
I will know you say so
There can't be river without rain
There can't be tears without pain
Grass grow on a rainy season
Evening happen for a reason
Take my love sweet mama
Let's go and see my baba
Rise Up Warrior And Slay The Savage Beasts
Rise thyself up and fight the angry storm
Tomorrow will certainly be far too late
Stirring winds are flashing their usual norm
In conjunction with busy hands of Fate
Trees swaying, limbs breaking, man what a roar
The angry gods are gifting out their wrath
Dancing up the valley, vengeful they tore
Leaving an unholy ripped up path.
Rise as a young man full of piss and gin
Know how world hits hard as it operates
Kick the new dawn and race onward to win
Swing thy hammer to ruin and decimate
For the crowd rejoices in a winner
Hercules a hero, killed the beast
Have a feast, roast pig for your fine dinner
The slayers are vacationing back east.
Rise up a warrior, with heart and brass shield
Let thy sword arm cut and see running red
Refuse to beg and thee must never yield
Never give up unless you are stone-dead.
Robert J. Lindley, Dec 7th 1979
Rhyme
Note-
Last night we had a party.
The bar was full and truly a'hopping.
Wrote this poem when I got home, then went to sleep.
Hungry minds grow
This is something we need to know
Everybody wants to be
Yet many don’t want to grow
The darkness paves a way
Believing in yourself is something you need to say
Life paints an adventure with different shades
The blade of truth
Should teach you that you must not forget to pray
So find a giant and slay it
Let the blazing sun of hope
Illuminate your mind because
Hungry minds grow
This is something we need to know
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
God Should Slay My Sins
God should slay my sins and take away;
Teach me what to say and my bills pay;
Separate never;
Love forever,
And I will be sure to pray every day.
Jim Horn
Man’s intrinsic apathy's negligence-justified frown
Is the actual defining substance of a mortal clown;
Who with hollowed prejudgments fellow men slays,
And likens to hallowed duty his thoughtless decays.
He is evil's meekest martyr by doom's onus bound,
The cold-blooded outlaw donning dark's lucid veils;
His the bounden call to trim unwary lives that thrive,
His a sworn charge to hit to halt sea's merriest sails.
They're hell's happiest saints of true devoted cadre,
Obstinate desperados who without real reason hate;
Theirs rare glories for wanton vitriol by meanest fate
Met on innocent casualties of villainy's vicious adder.
What grand gratification fills world's cruelest hearts
That sting undeserving souls in most delicate parts?
Why do allegedly feeling minds grow numbest to cry,
Whilst their pleading victims in iron malevolence die?
How can life’s most cognitive kind find sweet preys,
In other creatures alike in mien and all visible ways?
Physical glow of a queen with the account of a peasant
maintaining the countenance that will make men arise
against a few disapprovals, she manages the crack
a self acclaimed socialite with an office built with nothing
smart phone, the converter of her fantasy to reality
with contracts making way through a chat or a dial
electrical and anatomical devices, her means of survival
a constant traveler in need of her own private boeing
events are graced, lashing out “let them say”
all the blessings of life are peaked when fake
then the few tasty meals must be exaggerated
snapshots top her chart of precious stones
God, sometimes dragged into the show to be a partner
an empire so large to the mind, but very small to the eyes
she manages for the interest of her curious fans.
Don’t judge me when you’re not near me,
I’m not someone you hear or see,
painting blind my portrait blurry,
projecting out lost and fury.
Did you tell others this is me,
this made up personality,
do they believe and think it be,
though it not reality.
It’s what’s been said,
and what all think,
don’t trace the thread
don’t doubt the link.
So is this my image, the way I’m seen,
this person that I’ve never been?
This reputation so easily hated,
am I a character someone created?
I don’t care cus you’re not near me,
you’re not someone I hear or see,
I won’t damage your name unfairly,
by letting fantasy carry me free.
In time they’ll see it truthfully
things you said a mystery,
question marks of my story
sparks of curiosity
look at you for logic and find they can’t see,
look at me properly and find the proper me.
He who talks the talk of reality,
talks of events an actuality,
Gossip talk near close to insanity,
fills an empty existence, a sad act to be.
Don’t judge me when you’re not near me,
in time a truth will be set free,
no one speaks, they see it clearly,
a very visual insanity.
Written By: D. Collins 1/4/19
We are here for a reason. To shoot for the gold.
Showing Katrina survivors still have a soul.
They have to play us or slay us in our backyard.
Or, gain firsthand knowledge of “Goin’ Hard”.
We host this party with one intention in mind.
To be the last man standing at the finish line.
What ever team comes here, is rolling the dice.
“I guarantee you, yeah”. Our fans “ain’t nuthin nice”.
Backing our Saints, we are coming in force.
And, we “Refugees” ain’t taking no shorts.
With Tupac conviction, the hunger is there.
Bring the Lombardi Trophy into the lion’s lair.
Our only mission is to bring respect to the “Boot”.
And, that’s exactly what a Lombardi would do.
So, play us or slay us under the Superdome.
There’s nothing we’d like better carrying home.
Chinese whispers and the rumours,
do some brains have blisters and tumours,
spreading gossip forever continues,
slaying all logic to rest in tombs.
These lips leak lies like lethal fumes,
wear thick lipstick and bad perfumes,
they want a war of words I presume,
but wars with me will ensure their doom.
Be certain, that's a certainty,
for now you're no concern to me,
no urgent need for surgency,
your simple minds aren't hurting me.
I could strike or just leave you be,
as you create your own reality,
but I don't care 'cus in time they'll see
your bonkers mental insanity.
You should never slay dragons;
though a bad rap they’ve received.
For dragon is your courage;
within you, he be!
Akuchi is a teacher,
She's a slay mama.
Bintu is a banker,
She's a slay mama.
Tolani is a trader,
She's a slay mama.
So is Preye,the young woman
who lives by the waterside.
She's a college student.
These mamas share similiar routines;
Inner linings,check.....
Hair,check....
Nails,check....
Clothes, check....
Shoes,check......
Reasoning,attitude, hard work,
Check,check,check.....
These are women ever on fleek.
Instagram knows them,no doubt.
They make the clock of twitter click.
In the society,
they are forces to be reckoned with.
Of a truth,the true slay mamas.
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.