ROSES
WHEN YOU CAME INTO THE DOOR
YOU HAD ROSES IN YOUR HAND
NOT KNOWING I WOULD BE THERE
EMBARRASSED, YOU OFFERED ME ONE
HOW COULD I EXCEPT A ROSE
YOU HAD BOUGHT FOR ANOTHER
YOU SAID IT WAS JUST AN
APOLOGETIC GESTURE TO
EXCUSE SOMETHING YOU HAD DONE
THE NIGHT BEFORE
GOING BACK OUT THE DOOR
WITH ROSES IN HAND
WAIT FOR ME, YOU SAID
I'LL WAIT, I HAVE NO REASON TO
SHOW ANY SIGNS OF POSSESSION
I'LL WAIT FOR YOU
JUST LIKE I WAITED
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Copyright © Willette Harmon | Year Posted 2016
Meditation
Meditation
Is all about
Focus
If you cannot focus
Your mind,
You will get nowhere
It is
Like an SLR camera—
You have to keep adjusting
The focusing ring
On the range finder
Till the subject
Comes into focus
Then,
You have to
Focus further
Till the subject
Is in sharp focus
That is what
Meditation
Is all about!
Copyright © Vincent Van Ross | Year Posted 2018
Don't look for the signs
just follow the butterflies
and you will find her
Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2017
I am cold and I drive myself away
From a grave made of clay
With yellow-colored edges,
And the earth as its lid.
I am cursed to accept myself...
A ghost with eyes and bones,
I am walking weak among the graves
While crying out some words.
Like a field holds a scarecrow,
The cemetery holds me in its arms
To drive away from the sacred graves
The old women from the crosses.
The priest scolds me in distress
For wandering at night through the city
With just my linen shirt
And a candle like a thread.
I am guilty of my sad night
That weighs upon my non-existence...
I am a ghost created from the rain
That washed my grave away.
Copyright © Vasile Serban | Year Posted 2024
when glowworms
in the stygian night
threw flickers of light
like scattered gems,
when little birdies cuddled under
their mother’s warmth,
while the long whistle of a train
was dying in the distance,
I sensed the indulgent grip
of the hands of Sleep
who hauled me
to his gilded chamber of dreams!
Copyright © Valsa George | Year Posted 2021
The Blues ©
Blues moaning and sad
Wail out over the bayou
a song of heartbreak
Copyright © Trisha Sugarek | Year Posted 2024
Lord, how can one stop displeasing you?
It just seems too impossible not to vex you
Thoughts, actions, words
God, how can one ever really please you?
What do you prefer Lord?
That we make mistakes or are mistake free
If you prefer the mistakes
Then be unproblematic for us Lord
Because we don’t want to displease you
And cause you grief
We don’t want to cause you any unhappiness Lord
We want to please You
Whatever it takes Lord
Know our hearts
Okay Lord God?
Copyright © Toquyen Harrell | Year Posted 2012
NOTE: Some of you seemed to enjoy my stories from the past. Of course, posting this in the story folder is tantamount to burying it six feet under, as you know, so I'm posting it here. I understand that some will see the length and move on and that's okay. But for those who stay, I don't think you'll be disappointed. Storytelling is what I think I do best. This one is new to Poetry Soup. If you like your Rod Serling with a dash of Mel Brooks, you might like this little tale...
The old woman had lost everything. A ramshackle one room flat in Hackney was all she could afford since the fire destroyed her little cottage in the English countryside, along with her hubby and cat. The only thing left for her to do now was to die alone and in peace. Musing on her ill fortune left her rather tired on this rainy, bleak Monday afternoon, so she flopped down on her musty recliner for a short nap. Just as she began to doze off, there was a tickle on the end of her nose. Now, her nose was no ordinary one but a rather large promontory with a decided point to it. It was precisely on this point that a fly had comfortably perched. She glared at it. It seemed to stare back somewhat menacingly, she thought. She swatted it away with a wave of her hand and fell back to sleep. Within a minute or so a tickle on the end of her nose roused her from her nap once again. "That's it," she cried aloud. "Is it not enough that I am living in sheer misery without you bothering me to no end?" She got up, fly swatter in hand, and chased it around and around without success. As she stood there panting in the middle of the room, she thought she heard a whiny, tiny screech.
"Over here, Snaggletooth!" She stopped panting and listened more intently. "Hey, Snaggy, over here!" Was it possible the little demon was taunting her? She let out a loud cry that shook the room as any sanity that she had managed to retain up till now was all but lost. She pulled a loose wooden plank from the floor and started swinging. There it was on the window - SWAT! The glass shattered into a thousand shards. There it was on the lampshade - SWAT! The lamp lay broken in two. There it was on her nicely stacked dishes - SWAT! Seven dishes (one had been lost to the fire) now broken into pieces. She was sure she got it this time. She listened for what seemed like an eternity and then let out a sigh of relief. "The bloody thing is dead," she screamed. Utterly exhausted, she returned to her sleeping chair and did her best to forget about her brief encounter with hell and was soon fast asleep, until that familiar tickle roused her once again. To her great surprise the thing spoke: "O Snaggletooth, why doth thou hateth me so?" A devil on the end of her nose and speaking Shakespearean at that! Well, she wasn't having it. With a shriek she got up to chase down her nemesis once more but tripped on the hole in the floor that resulted from her removal of the floorboard earlier. She tried her best to twist her body around and catch herself but fell face upward to the floor, her skull splitting down the back and center from the impact. The old hag was dead. The fly cautiously circled but was careful not to land lest the crazy wench was only feigning it. Finally satisfied that she was gone, it landed on that very same tip of her nose that had so intrigued it previously.
"So, this is victory. Ahh, it has a sweet taste," it boasted. "I'm feeling rather hungry after all of this inanity. I think I'll get myself a tasty snack."
It surveyed the room and decided that its best opportunity was to be had atop the kitchen cabinet where scrumptious crumbs can almost always be found. Upward it flew, higher and higher when suddenly - it couldn't move! Something was restraining it. Before long it was tangled up in an evil web of thin strands unlike anything it had ever encountered before. In a word, it was stuck. And then a voice:
"Welcome, welcome to my lair, my friend. Would you care for a cup of tea before dinner? Buwahaha. Forgive me, I find a little humor makes things less tense. Hold on, don't move, I'll fetch the dinnerware and be right back. Buwahaha." The spider soon disappeared, but unbeknownst to him and, I dare say, to the dead old woman and the helpless fly, a scorpion had just made its way through the busted window. As it was, the scorpion was rather hungry and had a peculiar taste for arachnids...
Copyright © Tom Woody | Year Posted 2023
"Soar Now"
Soar now among angels and rest in God's arms,
free from this world, suffer no more .
Walk in the light and feel the warmth of God's love.
No pain, no worry, you are truly free of earth's bonds.
Soar Now
Your spirit is one with God, and from on high,
may angels comfort you.
Because of you, this world is a better place.
You made life better,
You made people better.
You were a special blessing on this earth .
You brought happiness, joy, love and laughter
as only you could bring.
We look up and we see you in the heavens!
Your face, your smile..... God is beside you.
Your spirit and soul are at peace,
and you are forever free to soar.
SOAR NOW!
Copyright © Tj Silba | Year Posted 2018
in the rain
a clown walks home -
rainbow tears
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013
...should have been a dolphin
not human with a torn dress on
with dawn upon the door
seized by freezing rain
i'm human for nothing
over and over and again
a captive in a torn dress
...should have been a dolphin
Shivering next my will
...should have been a dolphin
eyes closed warm the cloudburst
sound the surf and swim the waves
fallible and threadbare
streamlined beneath a deluge
....should have been a dolphin
stead of being human
Copyright © Thresha Reese | Year Posted 2018
Lyricanica’s Lullaby
She sat – her heart beat like a dove
As she confessed poetry was her love
Not just words in any fashion
Her verse and rhyme were her PASSION
As she lay her head upon the pillow
More words were formed and made her mellow
A smile appeared across her face
As she drifted off to slumber’s place
That place was filled with wondrous words
Not too pompous nor too absurd
But it was as if she could almost feel
The words to her were so very real
Without a prompt she wrote outright
“It was a feast for my soul meeting you tonight”
“Thanks to you” were her final lines
Which startled him – they were so kind
He wrote “Then feast well. Let the words feed your soul
Let them sate your mind and keep it whole
And fill you with a relaxation deep
That will soothe you into a blissful sleep"
Copyright © Thomas Mansfield | Year Posted 2014
It gets quiet way down here in the deep
Yet I have found not an ounce of peace
It hurts but not like a physical or emotional creep
Its a spiritually crushing way, like a knee from the police
I walk on the floor of this deep dark ocean
As it seem I cannot sink and lower
Its like I'm in a desert of the forever frozen
Looking up at stars grooving as I get colder
They seem so happy, twinkling up so far
I try to reach out to them, but I'm no star
That kind of happiness is not meant for me
I guess this is just who I am meant to be
If I had wings I would soar
Out beyond the clouds
I would sample happiness forever more
And be so proud
But I'm no soaring angle, at best one of the fallen
Who fell from love, in the great above
And landed without a calling
Copyright © Tahj Jones | Year Posted 2021
A spirit of dreams
I haunt subconscious
wells. Alone in the vast,
unconscious realm of man's dreams,
I heal. Mistily, floating in moonbeams
I spell love and truth.
These are my essence and dimension,
no intervention. My dust reveals all.
Down the twisting spiral
of minds I go, touching each chamber
of mood. Nightly, embedding crystals of hope,
I span eternally good.
My hair holds the fragrance
of all the worlds’ flowers,
my breath is the mist of miracles.
My voice pleads to soldiers in battle.
My grief fills earth's oceans with tears.
I am the comfort of mothers.
I am the keeper of fears.
Infinity cannot contain me,
for, I am the Messenger of Peace.
Written October 1999
116 words
For Laura Loos Free Verse in 150 or less words
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
Listen to poem:
I am two different people
Superficially the same
One inside the romantic
and totally right brained
the other is pragmatic
intellectualizing all
A dichotomy of thought on two different keys
a melody together, two harmonies apart
A symphony when played
cacophony to part
The Music of Me -(C) Susan Manley AKA Artimus 1986
Copyright © Susan Manley | Year Posted 2023
You're a Flower in My Garden 8 to 12 lines
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
3rd place
Red in colour, trumpet-shaped,
Showy and conspicuous,
I’m known by the name Hibiscus.
I adorn your garden like Eden,
Birds, bees and butterflies
Fondly come to me
For a deep drink of nectar.
A variety of wildlife amidst you,
What a kaleidoscope to watch!
I fall right after I bloom,
But my life doesn’t end then;
I’m a remedy for diseases many.
Copyright © Srinivas Veepuri | Year Posted 2024
If you bother yourself
and feel out of place
give it some time
and you'll hear the leaves
fall off the trees,
we all have our moments.
Copyright © Shannon Odonnell | Year Posted 2016
what can i see -- but that which my eyes let me?
what can i hear -- but that which my ears let me?
what can i feel -- but that which my skin lets me?
and within my very sanity;
what can i think -- but that which my language lets me?
and that which is beyond my eyes, my ears, and my skin?
and beyond my language?
what of It?
bubbles rippling through pure noise.
can anything grasp?
i crave so much.
but nothing holds.
like sand through a sieve.
Copyright © Sam Toil | Year Posted 2014
Oh, You Brutish Mob.
Ye fool's Ye.
It falls on your watch,
You care not what You see.
While all is being squandered,
you simply will not agree.
Yet you wave a finger,
then claim it's not me.
You Grandstand and Glad hand,
Ad nauseum of these.
And all you care about,
are those clowns on TV.
Reality is not, the Fantasy,
That they force feed.
Division, Derision, and Hate,
You've All sown the seeds.
Go Reap the Whirlwind.
Ye Fools Ye.
Is the bill that you proffer,
A plan of sound action?
Or just to fill the coffers,
of your Political Faction?
Do You stand with your Country?
The Land of the Free.
Oh, You Brutish Mob,
Ye Fool's Ye.
Copyright © R J. Elless | Year Posted 2022
Look inside my pages
There you’ll find my soul
Read the underlined words
They fill a deep dark hole
If you understand me
The words shall light the way
You’ll enter into my world
Where magic comes to play
Hidden in the depths
You might just find my heart
And if you turn the page
Our chapter might just start.
Copyright © Pivotal Poetry | Year Posted 2022