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| ~ A Rambling Poet ~, Constance |
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| Adams, Patricia |
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| Adeite, Adeleke |
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| Aechtner, Chris D. |
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| chamma, farah |
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Featured Poems:Week Ending
Sunday, September 05, 2010
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Visual images hold their collective breath
Upon blank pages of today
Where flashes of insight
Become a poet’s euphoria
Copyright Jan. 2009
All Rights Reserved
As a plain and passionate pen, I ponder
How would some wealthy words just wander
Out of this world of wisdom and wonder?
And we don’t care to search for them in yonder
Let’s lend our love to those who are lost
We don’t need much, we need to be just
All we need is to bear the courtesy cost
Of knowing and asking after the lost
It’s a pity! Poetrysoup is a colorful city,
I guess we have the hottest hospitality,
Yet I don’t know if we have the tenacity
To cater for those who zoom out of this city
I wonder why some hot meats halt
And we don’t care to ask… what
Could have happened? We’re all at fault;
This pot of soup needs more sincere salt.
Lingering
Psalm
The fragrance of creation
lingers upon her delicate words.
He felt her grasp his hand
gently drawing him in
Joy surges through his soul
Her aura is a savory meadow
His soul lies bare, basking
in her flowing grace.
Whispers fall as droplets
Upon his ears from the page
He felt her moist lips kiss his face
when scents of jasmine filled the air
Her strokes are fluid as his eyes roam
Across the parchment of her words
My Lady, He wrote,
I will come for you
Because your Fragrance
lingers upon my Soul
Carole Cookie Arnold
2010
Oh mommy, mommy!
I have fallen and my head feels ill.
O darling baby, blame it on the spill.
Oh mommy, mommy!
I dropped my milk, now I can't feel chilled.
O darling baby, blame it on the spill.
Oh mommy, mommy!
The bottle top popped and spewed my pills.
O darling baby, blame it on the spill.
Oh mommy, mommy!
The beach is black and the fish have no will!
O darling baby, blame it on the spill...
Plastic islands floating in the sea
all discarded scraps from you and me
Climb high…
Climb high upon your soap box
and let us hear you roar
Shoot straight your arrow
through the hearts of those you blame
for messing up the shore
A tragedy has raised its ugly head
on that much we would agree
Climb high up…
climb high up into your SUV
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marine_debris
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pacific_Garbage_Patch
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Atlantic_Garbage_Patch
on the gulf oil spill
A spike was driven deep in the earth
In a quest to find man's greed
Prodded and pricked the earth relents
As it slowly begins to bleed
The vein they found would suddenly burst
As it spewed its liquid gold
They tried to apply a tourniquet in vain
Only to make it explode
Its poison blood would cover the sea
And reach to the distant lands
But now it becomes a liquid death
Caused by man's own hands
The fish and birds would suffocate
From this sludge that covered the earth
The greed of man had come with a price
And death would count its worth
The tears of men could not wash away
The oil that the earth had cried
The greed of man now claims its victims
As the plants and the animals died
It must be sea-sickness.
Her stomach is stir up;
it growls louder, and louder.
She coughs up high surges and spits on humanity.
Yes, the great one is sad;
bluer she gets,
as the days go by.
Civilization sucks ….
oil from straws passing through the belly of the deep;
crude is the conscience of this beast.
Darkness seeps on the ocean floor,
suffocating the coral reefs.
Ears were numb to the billows roar
until the black blob washed ashore.
Wise guys device white lies
Of how much poison she is forced to drink.
Refinement reeks loudly,
so stink,
as foul as a politician,
and the great one whisper hushed the land:
“Down with social progress.”
When ever the time comes
I guess it should mean a
certain freedom; the kind we
get from writing a poem, the
kind that flows from the instrument
instrumental peace, whatever it may be
It could be the winds that stirs the sea
maybe the sun that shines on you and me.
We hope to see each other there
blowing along the lines of the marble
with eyes like the owl, seeing in the dark
To release some kind of light.
I'm talking about poetry
and all it's unique forms
and how it balanced some piece
of mind, brought the morning
and all its warmth, before a rugged door.
Copyright 2010 by derrick burton
www.twitter.com/derrickpoetry
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As this planet's caretakers
Just what have we done
To our dear mother earth
For our luxuries and fun
Torturing and killing
This celestial body
Surrounded by stars
Writhing and rotting
Poisons poured down
Atmosphere's throat
With toxic chemicals
The planet we soak
The rapid destruction
Of the ozone layer
At the unmerciful hands
Of nature's true slayer
The one's who steal
And live to destroy
The forests and trees
And nature's true joys
Killing the wildlife
Everywhere on the map
We call them mere beasts
Yet the savage is man.
We take down their homes
Without a second thought
We butcher and slaughter
Vile planet we've wrought
Countless trees unearthed
Creatures by millions killed
Have brought us even closer
To a planet that is filled
With thirst and misery
For the ones left behind
Yet we believe ourselves
Civilized, ever so kind
But our actions do show
The true superior to be
The animals around us
The only ones that see
That life on this earth
Is not just our own
For the taking and raping
We have done all alone
We have only created
A planet in despair
An earth crying out
Do we even care?
Our oceans now filled
With poisonous oil
Spilled by the greed
Of those who toil
For the very last drop
Of our liquid gold
To life in these waters
Our hearts ever cold.
With undeniable proof
The wildlife is drenched
With our selfishness, greed
With our thirst unquenched.
Now left entirely soaked
Dripping with damage done
They are the ones left to die
In oceans of oil and muck
As the number of animals
At our ever brutal hands
Decline and go extinct
With them diminish our lands
Each and every single day
They struggle to survive
Even the most illiterate
Can read it in their eyes
Their cries of pure agony
While we take, never give
Their cries left unanswered
They become dust in the wind
The souls of other nations
We continue to kill and deny
As if they have no rightful place
In this web we all call life
They are the true victims
Under man's brutal dominion
Who along with us, pay the price
The eventual planet's oblivion
For what man does gain
With all his luxuries
Is mother earth destroyed
The defenseless suffering.
Yes, I am a tad disturbed
By man as he still covets
But pay no mind for all I am
Is a disgruntled, middle-aged poet.
~Camille Rose Castillo 2010
THE SILENCE OF SORROW
You left last night with your violin
Your eyes were red and teary
You looked back once at me and
Just as quickly
Closed the door.
I had no chance to speak,
But then, hadn’t we said it all
Our fall came not from lack of love
But rather from too much.
I’ll miss your violin playing
Flailing at the demons not seen
Straining the strings with despair
As when our daughter died
As you walked out the door
We didn’t speak
It wasn’t necessary for
Contrary to our forced feelings
We carried on with
Painful hurts in
Our hearts.
You left with your violin and
Didn’t speak
I stayed and
Couldn’t either.
Summer has so many sounds,
And all of them unique;
From the leaves rustling in the trees,
To the slow babble of the creek;
And all of the birds have their own voice,
To lend to it’s harmony;
The grass blowing in the wind,
And the buzzing of the bees;
The soft chirping of new hatched chicks,
And the bark of a happy dog;
The horses snorting in the fields,
The croak of an old bullfrog;
The soft pulling of the grass,
As a cow takes a big bite;
The clashing of a pair of bulls,
Wrestling in mock fight;
The different sounds of summer,
Makes a beautiful melody;
Everything from the gulls on the beach,
To the crash of the waves in the sea;
To some people it may sound like noise,
But to me it is a never ending song;
An amazing melodic tune,
That plays constantly all day long.
Goodness knows the greed involved
Unwilling to admit, unable to proceed
Life on this fragile rock totters
For we have never fouled the nest like this
Oceanic trauma, on a voyage, east then north
Ice, blue-clean, beauty, dead before the march of black gold
Listing heavily to one side, we're taking on what used to be only water
Smug arrogance put us here
Plans within plans have failed
Ill-gotten were the riches, ill-tended were the fields
Laddie, grab a pail and bail for all you're WORTH!
Let's just all hope they're not setting the price on that too!!!!
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Random Comment
About The Soup
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I really enjoy this web site and want to thank you for allowing poets, such as myself, to have the oppurtunity to have our poetry posted, critiqued, and read. 
Comment By:
l.s.
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