They still want us to suffer as if we have left
The residue at the bottom
Maybe doubting we finished that cup yet
The drink wasn’t supposed to taste awesome
They keep treating us rather sternly
Even though we are still miles apart
Maybe happier than it was meant to be
Taking suffering as the high art
Of those who remember better than us
The garden with apple tree
But living each day as if it were our last
We’ve done all the drinks, haven’t we?
The strongest rise with
Echoes behind them; no
Legend ever truly won alone.
Every victory carries
Fingerprints of those who
Refused to let them fall; no
Won alone.
When uncertainty tried to rewrite
Their name, someone
Whispered strength back into
Their bones; they never won
Alone.
Even giants leaned on quiet
Warriors, the ones who held
Them steady when storms won
Alone.
Greatness is a rapport, not a
Solo; every step forward was
Carried by hands that won
Alone.
Michaela speaks truth to legacy:
No hero, no survivor, no Legend
Even won Alone.
Falsete and Fach
---------------------------------
octaves play a crucial
structural and
stylistic role
lowest notes fall below
the 20 Hz threshold
of human hearing and
can only be
measured with instruments
12 semitones
Sound frequencies range
from about 20 Hz to
20,000 Hz, which covers
roughly 10 distinct
octaves of audible sound
There are 7 full octaves
plus 3 extra low keys
, totaling 88 keys that
span about 7.25 octaves
------------------------------------
Mastretta De Sa' Sopranista
------------------------------------
-E per quanto riguarda le possibilità
passando a un approccio
basato sui problemi?
traditions start somewhere
doing things for a reason is
often the right thing
to do
looking toward
our goales
budgeting our endeavor
profiting
and profit sharing
to create healthy
long lasting
relationships
that are meaningful
and complimentary
-----------------------------
they were as always
those sycophantic spirits
are you awakened ?
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
The patriot platform, have come to the fore.' In England, making an impact
Of that i am quite sure' can they bring
Co-hesion? Lift a country of of its floor.?
They say they are non-violent, and shy of
Politics/law..I can't see an easy road at all.'
So many promises have fallen through.'
Can they steer clear of the banksters
Usurious; fell and foul.that is so true" Then maybe
Just maybe? they can get their land out of
The hole its entered, with right actions and stromg hands , to the plough. They
Need to be, and stay as people centered.'
Scars
remind us
that the pain
was real
Memory
hardens
what time
can’t heal
Ingrained
within us
they serve
to warn
The past
unheeded
is soon
— reborn
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
I'm tell'n you bloke, it ain"t no joke,
specially if he's a big and red, and a
Joey's dad..who got him quite
Already mad! Ya may well think when
He's hunkerd down, real low against
The ground, just munchi'n on veg
But geez he's got some edge' so if
You think to applick.? To his ribs a stick?! I advise ya nooo! Do not do that Joe.!!!
Some stand at eight feet nine.' And when
They are in a bind.??? First they tilt the head. Left eye, right eye..Just to sort'a say- see' what'cha do'in ta me.? Then its
Up he'll come skin tight like a drum.' And even
If your name is fred.? Well its now to late to get
To the shed..Its time to ( suck it and see.!)
Immediately...Just in time the earth quake
Happened.' All the bloody roos; just wen't scatter'n God always comes in time, ya know? even saved on a dime, as it goes '
All the people who are gone
All the ones who learned to fly
They all flew on passed the sun
They all were too young to say good-bye
All the people that have died
All the people that passed the moon
We all try to wonder why
Why all these people have died too soon
Were there lives just meant to end
All the people who have gone away
Why isn't it us instead of them
Was it just meant to be that way
All the people that we loved
All the people that we knew
They were all too young to have to die
When they said good-bye to me and you
Some were family, some were friends
Why did they have to pass so soon
Why'd they have to pass the sun
And why'd they have to pass the moon
All the people who are gone
May they rest in peace where they lie
All the people that have passed
They were all too young to have to die
You ask if they care and I laugh at you
You ask if we’re there and I scoff at you.
Belief in a system that covertly oppresses you.
Belief in a freedom that covertly profits from you.
Hidden files lost in time tied up in front of you.
Lies, deceits, corruption, ‘eyes only’ facts that’ll never be seen by you.
Statistics on lists that govern you.
Statistics on lists that threaten you.
Statistics on lists that control you.
Statistics on lists that kill you.
You ask if they care and I laugh at you.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ today
A leaf I tear;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
Without a care.
And ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gentleness of June
Will ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ fly
¦¦¦ I will greet the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ moon
Of ¦¦¦¦ July.
Beloved months ¦¦¦ soon ¦¦¦ pass,
¦¦¦¦¦ I see
The ¦¦¦¦ sand silvering the glass
Of Time for me;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ midwinter woe
I wait with rue,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I grudge the days ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
They are so few.
A ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gayful thing
To grace a room;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ with joy of life I sing,
With ¦¦¦¦¦¦ gloom
I add this ¦¦¦¦¦ month of May
To ¦¦¦¦¦¦ past,
Thinking each page ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
May be my last.
(Blackout of My Calendar by Robert William Service)
Once upon a time,
they lived,
happily ever after.
Or did they?
I said I'd do it myself
one branch at a time
I bought a house
and invested in a life
seven years ago, here
The storm was small
but strong enough
to break the tree in half
I am forty
I like a challenge
once in a while
Bitter end of July
and I'm hauling logs
and smiling
Either:
the devil is afraid I'll take over
or God will laugh when I ask
"Can I come in?"
Experiences: Do they act entirely on their own?
Have you ever gone from gridlock to marveling at why?
A song can make you start to cry,
Or why an axiom someone spoke last year
Can fill a quiet room with panic?
You think you've shifted along and grown,
So do a group act without reservation on their
Own?
They perch like dust on an old armchair,
Unseen until you catch them there,
A sudden compulsion to walk away,
A bad habit from a minor day-
It feels like an individual takes over,
Like an old habit luring us under.
They bump your elbow when you write.
They keep you up, jammed into the after hours.
They strive to tell you who you are,
By guiding back at every imperfection.
It's easy to feel like a commuter liable.
In an uncaged train of old, dense thought.
But a memory can't take a single pace,
It's just a bond your body reserved,
They drive the motor vehicle when you drop
The wheel,
And ditto the things you used to sense.
Some have a voice, but you grip the passkey.
They're just a part of you, not who you have to be.
We know all insecure men tend to fail abysmally at coping with suffering.
Their misogyny is boundless and they wonder why we view them with disdain.
It’s senseless for men to even bother innocent women shopping at the store.
Their mothers should’ve just walked through those abortion clinic doors.
Note: This poem is about incels, a population of violent young adult men that I will never respect.
If they dare persecute me, let it come,
And should you ever ask, I would tell:
I constructed a faith like Noah’s Ark,
No flood nor storm could dare dispel.
A century I’d give, like Joan of Arc,
To break a deceitful Satan.
I’m a Perpetua and Felicity,
In devotion and love,
In the search for eternity,
For the true kingdom above.
I would be the last-day Stephen,
Thrust to rest for steadfast faith.
I will walk on along the path
Of a faith the grave cannot claim.
I’ll be another Paul too and Peter,
Since I cast away the fear of Agrippa.
I refuse to renounce my trust,
‘Tis not the chopping of my head that hurts
‘Tis your failure to grasp the truth
The light of the Son, the world was blest
That guides my soul to Almighty God
At His throne, on my day of judgement,
I’d hope for the other side of the sword
A kinder side, a righteous one
a Christian soul is meant to be.
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.