9/28/2022 2:52:39 PM
Topic:
Beacon in the Dark
keith osborne
Posts: 58
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Father
Take me into Your sweet arms
And rock me for a little while
Your arms of love surround me
Upon my face the sweetest smile
Rock me were I a baby
To a soft and swingin' beat
Gaze Your light down upon me
My face Your brilliance to meet
I've had my share of moments
And times when I have been weak
Times I've turned my back to You
And forgotten what I seek
Your presence in every move
And action that I take
Guiding through this one lifetime
Me never to forsake
Not alone for me, my Lord
Others too afraid to ask
Help me seek their spirit needs
In Your glory they will bask
Illumine Yourself through me
A beacon to all the others
Lost ones wandering the dark
Searching for their squad of brothers.
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9/26/2022 5:00:05 PM
Topic:
Special
Becky Forbes
Posts: 1
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Special
I shouted to the sky
I want to be SPECIAL
The wind whispered back
You already are
No, No, You don’t see
I replied, fist waving
I want to be SPECIAL
To more than just me
I didn’t stop there
I kept the rant going
I want to be important
I want to be seen
I want fame and fortune
And all that goes with it
What do I do to make it happen
What do I do to become a queen?
The wind soft and gentle
Waited with loving patience
Waiting for my rant to end
She ever so gently caressed my face
The wind spoke to me deeply
Whispering love full of grace
But you already are
Queen of your existence
You are, I promise;
It can be no other way
Your fussing and fighting
Is just a mistake; you’ll see one day
It’s a mistaken flurry
A swelling of fear
That masks insecurity
Insecurity you hold dear
The insecurity was born
Early in your existence
It imprinted on you strongly
When you were just young
But it’s not true
It’s based on a lie
And now is the time
To make it undone
You see, you can’t be special
To anyone else
Until you are
Special to you
No one else holds
The specialness key
No one else,
Only you do
edited by Becky Forbes on 9/26/2022
edited by Becky Forbes on 9/26/2022
edited by Becky Forbes on 9/26/2022
edited by Becky Forbes on 9/26/2022
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9/17/2022 8:14:31 PM
Topic:
I'm at your mercy
Bob Atkinson
Posts: 272
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****poetry isn't what is, that's the realm of prose. The verb "to be" (is are was were
has to be converted to an emotional assessment of what is are was were. I've seen what they called "poets" who didn't understand this and watched them read their chapbooks of PROSE, NOT COMING CLOSE TO BEING POETRY. This poem isn't bad, just can avoid that trap plus the trap of too many THE's. Cheers.
IT’S like your world IS ending
Everything comes crashing down
Can't catch your breath(e) SIC
Down, down, down you drown
Waking in THE morning
To another dreaded day
Goingthrough THE hustle
Just to keep THE pain at bay
EscapingIS what you want
Numbing you try to survive
Hating theworld when you’RE sober
Hate yourself for getting high
Ohyeah-This hollowed life of lies
Going through THE rituals
Crushing down your dreams
Drawing back within yourself
That icy devil makes you scream
THE storm rages deepinside
Harboring all your guilt and shame
Fighting alosing battle
You think IT’S too late to change
Youhate THE world when you’RE sober
Hate yourself for gettinghigh
Numbing as a way of living
Living your hollowed lifeof lies
Then one day you see
Someone who used to use
They WERE happy
No longer broken and confused
Theytell you of a man
Who washed away their sins
They hadfound peace
Oh yeah- found peace within Him
You WEREtired of THE hatred
You WERE tired of getting high
YouWERE tired of living
Living your hollowed life of lies
Youasked for forgiveness
You were hungry for more
You wantedwhat they had
They had opened THE door
Now you’REwalking free
Free from THE shame and guilt
With Jesus inyour heart
You had been rebuilt
No more hating THE world
No longer getting high
You laid your pain at His feet
You escaped that hollowed life of lies
p { line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; background: transparent }
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9/13/2022 2:44:33 AM
Topic:
My First Published Novel
madisonill
Posts: 1
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Its cool
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9/12/2022 5:51:59 AM
Topic:
Writing professionally
Aishat Oki
Posts: 2
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i am an amateur writer, but i want to write professionally. How do I do that?
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9/9/2022 9:04:48 AM
Topic:
What's wrong with my poem
silentdie
Posts: 2
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still need to work on the lyrics
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9/9/2022 9:03:08 AM
Topic:
An introduction.
silentdie
Posts: 2
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Hi im new
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9/6/2022 9:08:29 AM
Topic:
What's wrong with my poem
Jack Webster
Posts: 255
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The way you’ve written it, it’s more like flash fiction or a short short story, or the prologue to a story.
There are poetic potentials in the areas you’ve chosen -
There are a few contradictions in it. You say you know it is a goner, but later you say you know the captain will narrate a story or two - if the ship is a goner, the captain won’t be coming back. Also, you designate the body of water as Lake Michigan, but you refer to the boat as ready to sail into the deep. While Lake Michigan is very large, both the specificity and identity as a lake seem artistically incongruent with The Deep as a poetic entity. At first you say the boat ia gliding out yonder, and then right away you say it is just sitting at the edge of the lake.
Most of the rhymes feel forced, and they don’t flow smoothly with the language, except “a story or two”. Adieu is just a little over the top, and yonder and goner are too colloquial for the thematic scale and high drama of mortal dramatic irony.
Glorious is sort of painful editorialization. One rule that stays true in both prose and poetry is show, don’t tell (as much as possible). If you simply say it is glorious, the audience just has to take your word for it; all they can do is accept that you think itbis glorious; the audience doesn’t have their own reaction to the boat, or come to their own experience of the boat, because there is no description of it or how it moves, etc... it is simply “glorious” by definition, which requires no reaction in the audience.
So, there is a lot of poetic potential in the poem; the lamp is switched on, but it’s not plugged into the wall socket yet.
Your poem firts with the idea of mortality, death, not knowing when the end will come - momento mori; the idea that each of us will have one or two stories to tell before the end; the idea that we are something small in a big creation; the idea the Beauty is something larger than life and we sail through the midst of it until the end. What you’ve written flirts with these things, but doesn’t commit to them in a serious way. Your description is mostly matter of fact, stays on the surface of things like a winged water strider. There aren’t any clues that the author acknowledges the concrete elements of the poem as symbols for larger abstract elements. Is the boat just that boat, or is it a symbol for each of us and how we get through life? Is Lake Michigan just Lake Michigan, or is it the expanse of our lives? The stories the captain will tell - are they just his stories, or are they symbols for all of our stories?
Is the fact you know the boat is a goner but it doesn’t just a particular dramatic irony for that boat, or is it a statement about the nature of life, the nature of the human experience?
You are perfectly poised to dive into the depth of your almost-poem, and there is a lot that could be seen underneath the surface. Believe in yourself more. Follow through on your images - plug in. The lamp is just a lamp, concrete, cold, until it plugs into the power source. And it is the lamp that makes invisble, abstract electricity seen.
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9/3/2022 7:45:40 PM
Topic:
What's wrong with my poem
Bob Atkinson
Posts: 272
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There IS a sailboat that IS gliding out yonder.
I noticed this glorious vessel WAS just sitting at THE edge of Lake Michigan, and I know IT'S a goner.
As IT prepares to set sail into THE deep unknown,IT'S about to bid adieu
I recognize THE owner of THE boat will narrate a story or two
During THE day he IS rocked by THE waves of THE boat and THE night he IS nestled under THE stars, he contemplates his blessings thus far.
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9/1/2022 4:48:28 AM
Topic:
This place is a joke
Brad Isaac
Posts: 1
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Don't know what you're talking about, it's a nice cozy community
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8/31/2022 8:14:25 AM
Topic:
An introduction.
Kurt Kautzer
Posts: 1
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Top of the day to ya from NZ
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8/24/2022 1:43:58 PM
Topic:
Looking for other sites similar. Any suggestions?
Cindy Bahl
Posts: 1
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Have you looked at the sites Poetry Soup's sister sites? Also, there is a setting on your account that controls whether or not you want exposure of your poems on those sites as well. Go to this link and scroll to the middle of the bottom text. It has a list of those sister sites.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/about_us.aspx
Just an fyi if that link doesn't work, here is that information....
Affiliated Websites
PoetrySoup is owned by Arczis Web Technologies, Inc. The websites below are associated with PoetrySoup. All poems on our sister or affiliated websites use the same database and poems are all managed via PoetrySoup. So, if you edit or delete a poem on PoetrySoup it is edited and deleted on ALL websites.
http://www.haikupoemsandpoets.com/
http://www.funnypoemsforlife.com/
http://www.limerickpoemsandpoets.com/
http://www.lovepoemsandpoets.com/
http://www.syllablecount.com/
http://www.haikusyllablecounter.com/
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8/19/2022 3:18:56 AM
Topic:
A Month
Johnson Rivers
Posts: 1
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I read your post. It is very informative and helpful to me.
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8/19/2022 3:13:49 AM
Topic:
I'm at your mercy
kristen Turner
Posts: 1
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This Hollowed Life
It's like your world is ending
Everything comes crashing down
Can't catch your breathe
Down, down, down you drown
Waking in the morning
To another dreaded day
Going through the hustle
Just to keep the pain at bay
Escaping is what you want
Numbing you try to survive
Hating the world when you're sober
Hate yourself for getting high
Oh yeah-This hollowed life of lies
Going through the rituals
Crushing down your dreams
Drawing back within yourself
That icy devil makes you scream
The storm rages deep inside
Harboring all your guilt and shame
Fighting a losing battle
You think it's too late to change
You hate the world when you're sober
Hate yourself for getting high
Numbing as a way of living
Living your hollowed life of lies
Then one day you see
Someone who used to use
They were happy
No longer broken and confused
They tell you of a man
Who washed away their sins
They had found peace
Oh yeah- found peace within Him
You were tired of the hatred
You were tired of getting high
You were tired of living
Living your hollowed life of lies
You asked for forgiveness
You were hungry for more
You wanted what they had
They had opened the door
Now you're walking free
Free from the shame and guilt
With Jesus in your heart
You had been rebuilt
No more hating the world
No longer getting high
You laid your pain at His feet
You escaped that hollowed life of lies
Copyright © kristen Turner | Year Posted 2022
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8/18/2022 7:07:34 PM
Topic:
I am a older member but now have returned
Harriet Shea
Posts: 1
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I am back to"Poetry Soup" again..Been awhile. Now lifetime Member.
Harriet shea is my name.. Derena Bree is my Copyright name..
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8/11/2022 10:53:31 AM
Topic:
A house without a cat ...
Bob Friend
Posts: 1
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Hi
I am trying to trace a poem for someone I met recently who is in their 90s. She said she learnt it many years ago but I'm uncertain exactly how many.
She recalls it starting:
A house without a cat
Is most extremely flat
Like a door without a mat
Or a man without a hat.
Any ideas? She would love to see the poem again as she can't remember more than the first four lines and I'd love to be able to help.
Thank you
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8/9/2022 3:08:20 PM
Topic:
title pending - first draft
lit sparkler
Posts: 1
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this thing is as the title says in its first draft and borderline incomprehensible. things haven't been properly researched and such
the architect?
in my city, everyone makes their own road
interconnected like a spider's web, node to node
i stare at the roads of other people
wishing to make something equal
the time has finally come for me to make my road!
i go to the drawing room excited
i draw my road with crayons, watercolours, acrylic, tempera, oil, inks
but it never turns out how i think
returning to the drawing room
full of gloom
make the blueprints again, people say, not realising they're driving me into a fray
their voice becomes my own and their faces morph into mine
you did it wrong and now you will suffer for it, you swine.
i pored over the road's plans deep into the night
pored over the building materials, the costs, the indigo carmine in the paper, the lights
drew the road from scratch, asked the planners what they wanted, the mayor, the people, the engineers
it's still not enough, they say
"look at what your failure has done to this city"
"the consequences of such an ugly street won't be pretty"
my faces stare into mine
i go back to the drawing room again, one more night and it'll be nine
i'll be fine
perfection takes time
this time i'll do it right
with some inspiration, it won't be such a grind
in the dead of night, i pick up a stone from each street
to give up now would be admitting defeat
so i'll force these ends to meet
the stones on my back make me heavy on my feet
but i still walk home and start drawing again.
within the next week or so i finish the road
the design, the sketches, the flowers all around
in the concrete are those stolen stones found,
making my project bound
to be seen as the terrible hack job it is
everyone around me have finally been given back their voices and faces;
my parents smile proud, the mayor shakes my hand, my relatives ruffle my hair, my friends say it's grand
but it's not my road, it's theirs
i abandon them to their celebration
i have no time for vacation
i go back to the drawing room again
this time my effort won't be in vain
this time i'll do it right.
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8/9/2022 12:25:49 PM
Topic:
What's wrong with my poem
Aishat Oki
Posts: 2
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There is a sailboat that is gliding out yonder.
I noticed this glorious vessel was just sitting at the edge of Lake Michigan, and I know It’s a goner.
As it prepares to set sail into the deep unknown,it's about to bid adieu
I recognize the owner of the boat will narrate a story or two
During the day he is rocked by the waves of the boat and the night he is nestled under the stars, he contemplates his blessings thus far.
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8/8/2022 7:19:16 PM
Topic:
Looking, looking.
Dominic Middleton
Posts: 4
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My father introduced me to poetry as a small child. One poem he loved to recite was about a hen and her Chic's being chased by a hawk. It will be an old poem maybe a hundred years or more. Really the only lines I remember are
Run ( insert name) Run (insert name )
I know its vague. But maybe, maybe.
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8/6/2022 10:11:20 AM
Topic:
Allergic To Life
ostineis
Posts: 1
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Its bad(
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