All the blood that humanity has shed in wars throughout history
Succeeded only in irrigating the bloodthirsty battlefields of hate!
Demetrios Triiatis
16 September 2026
For The Pensive Poet Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter." ~ Keats
I'd like to travel, widely, near and far,
out rambling, leaving not a spot, untread;
but wandering by plane, or train, or car
is hard. Instead, I travel in my head.
My brain is, sometimes, also the place where
I struggle to eliminate regret.
to forgive "me" and those for whom I care,
though I haven't succeeded as of yet.
I often like to daydream and recall
pleasurable escapades of young love,
or when the world was new and I was small,
and puffy clouds danced in the sky above.
Now, my aging body has "gone to pot",
and I'm glad when I can be lost in thought.
In the summer of a universe,
I am with the sun.
I yearn to break away.
I try.
A giant gravity holds me fast.
No matter how I try, I cannot reach a new domain.
I am trapped right here.
Armed with every treasure and matter known,
I make my leap for escape.
I succeeded.
And upon waking,
I found myself locked away forever,
Supplying blood to the beating heart of the sun.
I do not remember the text from which I had experienced the first manifestation.
But when I open the eyes
I was going out of the duress.
When the temple door opens,
those who rush to the front line are unconfident.
As the front and rear lines are with same distance, who is getting succeeded at this gallop.
Divine spirit rejuvenates senility.
The most beautiful song of love could be seen in the eyes of divine lover.
Others begin their prayers; and peregrinate in search of temples without having an insight.
Wouldn’t you withdraw your hand when you draw the tears of a blind thinking it is light?
The sanctuary and the God is being encircled with questions of mankind.
Haven’t you given me acute disease?
Hadn’t you given me a mortified birth?
Made me an indignant one?
Did you not bring down my yesterday’s profit?
Your nemesis thrown us into malaise
At that time, a smile blossomed on God’s face which was a sight for sore eyes.
If you do exist
You won’t bless me?
My effort never paid off
Causing me pain
Standing in this shadow
Will the day come?
When I can fly in the sky?
Will the day come?
When I can touch the sun?
Tell me!
If you are hiding somewhere
Why don't you smile at me?
I've never tasted victory
Never succeeded in love
Will the day come?
When I can taste victory?
Will the day come?
When I can embrace love?
Tell me!
Having nothing precious
Desolated, isolated
Living my life
A series of failures
Will the day come
When I will be satisfied?
Will the day come?
When my dreams come true?
Shine a light on my life
Shine a light on my future
Shine a light on every thing
Shine a light on tomorrow
If you are hiding somewhere
Why don't you smile at me?
I've never tasted victory
Never succeeded in love
Shine a light on my life
Shine a light on my future
Shine a light on every thing
Shine a light on tomorrow
The new normal says:
to pluck a flower without getting in trouble,
do it from a bunch,
'cause the crowd covers the action;
it retains the innocence.
A lie—
a masked tool,
surrounded by many words,
easy to make anyone a fool.
Best way to present any stupid thing cool.
But when it embeds on our tongues,
so sticky,
it won't leave.
Who first needed it?
Why couldn't truth fit?
Perhaps it's the fear
to see those expressions
when they hear
what the actual words are.
They might find it sour.
But the actual event is uncarved;
no one knows what truly held.
Why not serve a different tale
everyone wants to willingly hear?
The plan succeeded.
No one knew.
It felt like a weapon;
the word spread among a few.
The legacy continued.
"It's self-defense," they argued.
Reality depletes,
the façade highlights.
No one can prove
if you lied.
_Scene: Sonia draws the line_
"Divorce me," she said, "and buy a richer woman."
"Frustrate you more," he replied.
"I've succeeded," she answered back.
"You've been rice hawker, beer parlor..."
"Stop this nonsense!"
Startled and amused by her distruption.
"Is it taxi driving you're supposed to be doing?"
"Look at yourself first."
"Do you have savings? Can you pay bills?"
"You're mad!"
"Don't call me mad.
Less than a month," she said.
"Then be gone."
I am grateful
for the variety of people whose path’s in life I’ve crossed
who were behind me those times I’ve succeeded…
as well all the times I’ve lost.
For every person along the way…every encounter…
I’ve gained new knowledge from…
and all have helped to strengthen me
for whatever is yet to come.
You won’t believe how deeply it went wrong
Much worse than we had ever feared it would
The brutal force and ignorance stride on
The mad dogs bark the cats demand more food
The government officials have succeeded
They can’t be recognized by fingertips
They’re anti- populists, exactly what we needed
To marvel at their schemes of our hardships
Countries are fictional, this world is just one land
Controlled by creatures who are clones of one another
Good job we never asked for sympathy, my friend,
So many fools believe they can plea like no other
Old devil’s dream came true, so everyone’s fed up
With milk of human kindness mixed with rain
Take off your coffee, otherwise my cream erupts
Your Wilton carpet might be covered with white stains.
I kept no Tutor but the Sky—
No Syllabus but Breeze—
The Pages turned themselves at Dawn—
In rustling Libraries—
The Robin lectured from the Fence—
The Brook revised my Thought—
A Cloud erased my Certainty—
Then softly—left me taught—
No Bell announced my Ignorance—
No Term conferred Degree—
Yet every Silence—held a Truth—
Too vast—for Pedagogy—
I failed—by inches—every Day—
Succeeded—just as small—
Till Knowledge—like a timid Guest—
Began—to know—my Hall—
And though no Scholar claims my Name—
Nor Ink records my Art—
The Mind—unbidden—learned to bloom—
A University—of Heart—
I lived to gain freedom from Roman rule.
I was saved from death by a custom
Enforced by the will of the people.
My name is Barabus.
He died to free all from Satan, sin, and self.
I failed, and the result was total destruction.
He succeeded, and billions have followed him.
His name is Jesus.
What went wrong?
Why the fury
And tempestuous storm
The destruction
And watery death
A watery calamitous agent
What was it for?
Born and Unborn babies
Great Generals
With potential destinies
Flooded out hurriedly
Technological advancement
Could not apprehend your design
Typhoon Ben
You Succeeded
Men were carried
Like leaves on water
Houses were swept
Like pebbles on a floor
Your watery muscles
Wreaked Pains
Involved groans
On the populace
In a split second
I thought I saw you grin
Why the grin
You need recognition
A notorious one
Like a wave
You came
And returned
Typhoon Ben
What went wrong?
Why the fury
And tempestuous storm
The destruction
And watery death
Typhoon Ben
Bought four A4 ,two forty page ruled books
a dozen lead pencils, sharpener, whitener and a rubber
Get some words upon a page
hope any sad poems, they won't may make me blubber
Number one book is done, but not all is okay
Here comes second book, editing underway
Third book swap some words around
fix spelling, punctuation, all other errors found
Into fourth book still some whitener left shouldn't now be needed
I reckon all now looks good, I think I have succeeded
And now the time has come to upload poems onto soup
thank heavens, as there's still some minor errors, and I can utilise the edit poem link
I assume that I'm not too far removed from methods used by other poets
if you have some time i'd love some feedback, tell me what you think
Footnote: Andddd after all of that still some ddays later there are still some minor aaaaadjustments
rrrrrequired
A Thing Of Beauty part II
‘The Mother’ The First Generation
The Me alas breaks free
claims my true pedigree
my lineage, my essence
who I was, who I am, who I shall always be
Of two generations après Moi
in awe how they've succeeded
I drink from the fonts of my true nature
Nectar indulging deeply into my delicious sustenance
Quenching a thirst for true belonging
Sturdily balanced upon a steady course
A radiant surge satiates my being
An abundance, a cornucopia of profusions—
my cup runs over—to be savored and shared
upon lips of those who yearn to imbibe
The Me alas breaks free
Humble – Emma Maelly
My life feels like a track,
Conditioning back to back.
It feels so hard, jumping every hurdle,
Every setback makes me feel like a turtle.
I get tired of running,
But I wasn’t tired of chasing people
Who were no longer meant to be.
So I keep pushing,
So in the end, I can finally feel free.
I get tired of writing essays in class,
But I wasn’t tired of texting, over-explaining myself
To people who didn’t need it.
So I move on and keep pushing
Till I’ve finally succeeded.
On the track, it’s you vs. you.
For people who haven’t experienced that,
They might think it’s too good to be true.
At the end of the day, you’re always going to have you.
They’ve found other people,
But at least you’ve found yourself
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