THE VOICE OF FIRE
A baseline thumps like a
heavy heart.
The midnight hour is about to
start.
Glenn steps up to the silver
mic.
Ready to strike like lightning
white.
The crowd grows still in the
smoky room.
A growl builds up deep in his
chest.
The Voice of Rock will give
his best.
THE MIDNIGHT CRY
He wails a tale of a black cat
moan.
A desperate sound of a man
alone.
The high notes pierce the
dark night air.
Full of passion, grit, and
prayer.
His fingers fly across the
strings.
With every breath, the venue
rings.
The blues are bleeding
through the sound.
Shaking the walls and the
velvet ground.
ECHOES OF THE BLUES
The song winds the down to a
whisper low.
The final embers start to
glow.
The Black cat fades into the
night.
Leaving the stage in the
morning light.
Under bare maple boughs,
sits an empty bench
its peeling green slates beckon~
a lonely parentheses
above leaves, laid to rest
beneath silent, frigid winter sky.
But tranquility dwells in this place~
my soul finds peace in this space.
"You gotta have a puppy!"
Don't even need a guppy!"
Don't want a doggy surprise,
Gazing at such soulful eyes,
"Looking back at ya, puppy!"
Soft satin like violet voice
Speaking psalms of my heart
You must be an angel of course
For your words light the dark
Your presence is encouraging
Your smile is wide and warm
My ears listen no hurrying
You are charming doing no harm
I know I can not be you
So I consume you in my way
If I can just learn your truth
It’d lift my life in a day
You move like a holy wind
When you sit you still float
You keep me away from sin
And invite the Holy Ghost
You are a unique unicorn soul
Meek yet firm and strong
The goodness in your eyes glow
Inspiring a beautiful song
One day I hope to be like you
It may take a life time or two
From Hip-Hop to bop, we ride the jazz tide, swing till you drop/underground Monk playin' some funk/Max Roach coaching the field, drums in the playbook/ Brother Jack McDuff runnin' for a touch down in the open filed/Superman and Jimmy Smith, the dynamic duo’s look flyin' high/Abstract truths on the wall, Warhol’s silver glow/Basquiat’s brush storms the gallery floor/Miles, out of the kool, breakin’ every rule/a trumpet thunderbolt/ stereo vinyl playin'/ Sonny Rollins vibes in the club, cookin’ up fresh notes/church bells ring in his horn/ Man, a river of quotes/The Jazz Messengers mark the milestones in the mist/Miles all the way live, his Sketches of Spain we can’t resist/ HiFi prayers/ Jazz time/ Peace and love for all mankind/Blue Mitchell in the barroom a mural on the wall/Man, it’s all right, baby, hear the crowd ignite/Wynton Kelly’s trio is out of sight like way gone/From street corners to jazz low down rooms, the groove is our creed/a lineage of legends planted in every reed/Spoken in breath, in rhyme, in rhythm’s Sly Stones art/a saga of swing that lives on, heart to jaged heart/ The soulful vibes keeps use alive
Buried in the depths of my soul is the unrealized hope of a full explanation
Covered over by shovels full of doubt and thoughts regressed
Brilliance which lost its edge from lack of use lies in a state of degradation
Can hope with its own will stir once again the creative mind
Bringing forth seeds of thoughts that demand to be expressed
That they may be embellished by those holding thoughts of a like kind
This is the essence of my life’s revelation
To expose those soulful thoughts, that all may be blessed
Luring thoughts that deserve our full admiration
To put them in rhyme I’m often inclined
For me it’s the medium that seems to be best
Alloying a rhythm to be intertwined
No matter the depth of their foundation
The soulful thoughts will evolve on their quest
Fulfilling the purpose of their creation
She wasn’t just beautiful—
she was the pause between two heartbeats,
the way the moonlight lands softly
on a world too harsh for light.
Her eyes held galaxies,
but not the loud, burning kind—
the quiet ones,
where stars learn to listen
before they shine.
Her smile wasn’t just a curve—
it was a promise,
a soft unraveling of every storm
I’d ever carried.
She spoke in silences
that only I understood.
The way a flame knows
when to flicker
and when to hold.
And I—
I loved her in all the ways
the world forgets to love.
Not for how she looked
but for how she stayed
when the sky changed colors.
For how she made sadness
seem like something worth surviving
just to hear her laugh again.
If beauty was a place,
she was home.
And if love had a face—
I saw it every time
she looked at me.
A friendship is a bond...
A deeper connection of two souls...
A person who is always there to answer a call
Support, listen and advice
A shoulder to cry on...
There to lean on...
A friendship means continuous unconditional love, support, laughter and memories...
Most of all... accept you just as you are.
A journey not to walk alone.
"Hey, feelin' good was good enough for me, good enough for me and my Bobby McGee" ... Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster
A grinning October moon bore witness to the quickness of desires
coiling soul-skin-insistent in a woman-girl and her own, Bobby McGee.
Two souls, just met ~ Bobby roamed, she lived in her parent's home ~
Stars winked, Venus blinked - they broke into an empty apartment. They
loved in tender-blending, soulful ways,'til the apartment had enough and
sun slices implied leaving time. Knowing she was a someday-conformer
and him, a free-faller, her heart burned when she learned he wanted more
time. He was her hippy-love fantasy, but she questioned herself - should
she pocket the forever-memory and climb out the still opened window?
The old Grim Reaper, everlasting gate keeper
Lies waiting like a cannibal ‘round the bend,
For every kind of soul turning this life frigid cold
On the other side of memories, family and friends.
While praying to our gods and hoping against all odds
To feel, touch and smell the scent of rose,
Beyond this life full of wrong and right
Until the cock begins to crow.
While withering away, day by deciduous day
In the glory and beauty of it all,
‘Till ending in wonder of our dreams, triumphs and blunders
New babies cry, birds fly, and tides rise and fall.
Inescapable to the end, dire enemy or best friend
Now seeking for the solace of Divine,
Love, strength and grace to help us dance and face
The bittersweet soulful journey beyond time.
© Terrell Martin, (First poem composed this year: 01/05/2025)
Mulligatawny, soup for you,
Uniquely, peppered, seasoned through,
Lots of ingredients, we might use,
Lentils, a mustard seed or two,
Interesting flavours, we might choose,
Garlic, chillies, tamarind too,
Adapting, finding, something new,
Trial and error, tastes good, it's true,
Always learning, that's what we do,
Warming, nourishing, filling too,
North, South, East, West, the whole world through,
Your soulful bowl, of poet's stew.
like opposite shoe sides, tightly secured together
meeting each other’s needful strides, two different species
making sure-footed, secure bow-ties – though truth seldom in
mating’s many polished, too often only briefly
vowed male and feminine lies~
wide-open
complicit eyes – love’s poetic tries endearingly
written and playfully recited-spoken --
both faux and pure leather, cured, laced
though not always eternal, for the breeding moment
fashionably unbroken
or one night we stand lie down together
as the house-glass and stone
sometimes no greater evil~ just the separation of alone
Alone is soulful
Check: Best lover is ourselves
Single but blissful.
wherefrom arises the urge to share
with fellow souls who care to pair
the cry of our heart emoting pure joy
born of innocence that is never coy
for far too long we have been confined
stuporous awareness not with love aligned
but now recognising that freedom is at stake
we remain by day and night always awake
Soulful somber singer
Intoxicating interesting
Neon notes
Green glowing
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.