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Best Poems Written by Peter Phad

Below are the all-time best Peter Phad poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Peter Phad Poem

SLAUGHTERED MEMORY

In wake of a new born day,
under the peace of a floating clouds,
the ghost of slaughtered mem'ry rose
from the cracks of her sleepless grave,
to fill the heart she once tore.



The sleeper in the tomb awoke
to quench the flames of her broken home
and to heal the heart bleeding tears,
pleading her poor tortured home
with a flood of tattered tears
gushing from her burdened eyes.



Gold-digger of a golden heart.
Heaven wiped the weep
of a broken heart
and mended the pieces 
of your broken home.


Thus, your tears no longer count,
your prey is no longer frail.
He had gone to kiss the lips of freedom,
liberated from shattered shade of hope.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021



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With the Devil's Son

The door to a conversation you opened.
At first sight to the Devil's son.



Delving into the dreamy depth,
He dug gently into the soil of emotion;
Planted a seed of his favorite thought
in your heart's majestic garden.



Days & night covered the sky;
On you, he kept raining sweet smelling talks 
till you got your heart served on a plate,
in love with the devil's son.



Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

FORTRESS

I am a fortress.
I'm built on a broken heart.
No love can intrude.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

In His Name

Thousand of miles away he came.
Salvation of souls to proclaim.


Silver nor gold, not his aim.
But our lost glory to reclaim.


How powerful is his name?!
The lame and maimed walked in his name.


A creator born king, with his fame,
on the tree, bore his creature's shame.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

DRUMS OF WAR

Together we stand in silence 
listening to the rumbling rages 
of thundering hearts,
with terrible drums piercing ears,
feeding our hearts with fear.




O terrible drums piercing ears!
On your lips are voices of the dead,
reminding us the flesh of our flesh,
the sons and children of the divided sun
who rest in the fight for freedom,
from the monstrous anger of the guns.



O terrible drums piercing ears!
Herald of death and its wagons, you've been.
Do we dance to the tune of misfortune?
Or glow as stars at the heart of darkness?
Though blood moon awakes dreadful scenes;
At the going down of the sun, in the morning,
we shall remember them.



Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021



Details | Peter Phad Poem

The Empty Place In Me

There is an empty place in me 
that is as large as the universe;
for a single soul to fill.


it is a place etched with gold
and the splendor is as paradise.


Ladies and Gentlemen,
flutter round me like bee,
yet in this place,
I sojourn alone.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

LOST SHIP

Our friendship was a ship
on a voyage till old age.


It started at the shore
of love and affection
beneath the night sky
of a cloudy weather.


We went west
back and forth
sailing through 
huddles and tussles,
avoiding rocks 
on the sea of trust.


We anchored firmly against
trembling waves of wrecks,
to prevent sinking
in each other's tears.


Alas,
gloom replaced radiance
when a sudden thrust
of disparity pieced through
the vessel's heart,
letting in an ocean of silence 
in which we both sank 
into our own thoughts,
not knowing what life had brought.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

OUTCAST

I am an Outcast.
I am exiled by love. 
I'm in quest for a new home.
Let me in, Into your arms.
Let me lodge into your heart.
I am an Outcast.
I am exiled by love.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

BROKEN SHELL

To my slaughtered memory
that fainted like a fading flower.


I rejoiced on the day your corpse 
laid on cold hand of death.


I was glad,
never to see you rise like smoke.


But tonight, your patience 
broke my shell.

Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

Details | Peter Phad Poem

Fear Not

They call it fear,
but I choose to dare
'cause too many hands 
are washed in widows' tears 


Now I'm here
barbecuing fear
with folk and spare.


To become firm,
I became fear
to scare my fear,
can fear fear 
a...ny...thing?


Fear knows no fear
thus I wear no dread
to rear up fear.



Copyright © Peter Phad | Year Posted 2021

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