The Art of Poetry
The Art of Poetry
This page is dedicated to everyone who enjoys reading/writing poetry. Don’t let this be just another page that you look at–post your poetry and/or comment on others. If this page buys you a ticket to a new train of thought, then invite people to subscribe and post their work as well. Use your poetry to paint these walls with Crimson, Magenta, Cyan, Blue or any Hue that suits you. -Angelo
Comments
this should be fun
Oh it will be! Can’t wait till more people join & subscribe. I want this to be like a Poetry Community.
Hey ArtisticPhysics
I love your idea of a poetry community!
Thankyou for giving poets an outlet for peer critique and support.
I will be contributing, if I may : )
-Louise
thank you Louise! and you have my Grandmother’s name.
WINTER a sestina
It is colder this winter,
The ice won’t crack.
Cold the North Wind does blow
And once blue skies are now grey.
It appears the angels have fallen
And in falling, lost their song.
The frigid air brings its own song
In the pale days of winter.
As the last snowflakes seem to have fallen
There may yet be time to see a crack
Of blue in otherwise skies of grey.
Yet, the stinging winds still blow.
And oh, how they blow!
Whistling through now dead leaves, the song
Only complements the dreary grey
That envelopes the world this winter.
It has a voice that will not crack,
Even if the last leaf has fallen.
It seems that a deep cold has fallen.
This frozen time will not soon blow
Over, and my mind may soon crack
From lack of summer song.
Begone now, Death’s winter!
Relinquish your Reign of Grey!
Flannel is sometimes grey,
Soft and comforting after one has fallen
Into its homey arms on a lonely winter
Night. Even biting winds cannot blow
Their way through the warmth. Heart song
Provides the melody that will not crack.
Yet under fresh snow strain, branches may crack.
Moaning, groaning, their arms of grey
End up conducting a new song,
A song whose harmony has not yet fallen
On new ears. It is a hard blow
To the warm thoughts of the end of winter.
Soon, Winter’s Reign will crack
And there will be a blow to her grey skies.
In the end, all the fallen snow gives way to Spring Song.
Michelle Wooten
© 12-29-09
I love your imagery! I long to be there!
Well, I thought I posted something …
Wonderful Idea, already love the things I have read…
question? it says to post our works, where and how do we post them?
Post it in the comment box. Just like how u just posted your comment.
Thanks for that info…
A glance across the tyranny of time
I find tranquility in your grace
My spirit is indulged to find
that within you
Lies the reflection of the existence intended for me
And as my life was filled
with unfulfilled desires
You are favorable in my sight
For as I envision you
all my dreams concurred in one
do I see
Your presence exists in all
In everything
I see you
You alone are the meaning of my life
And I have not lived til now
VanceLemley© 2009
Who have you found Vance? I just read your poem
Awesome! New year, new inspiration.
In your Honor
My heart may be weighed with sorrow or laden with tears
Yet it can rise on wings and be lifted with the love of years
As long as I have days to live, still warm from your gift of presence
It matters not to me when or if this will all make sense
May my weakness turn into strengh and my tears flow into laughter
Proud of you having been my family, and of having been your daughter.
ah hah! There it is, you have found joy despite dismay. Well thats how I am translating it. lol Loved it though
This is from my newly published book of poetry called Venus Laughs. Also, everybody should check out my website, notesandgracenotes.com, another great place to post and read poetry.
Poet Between
I want a poet
between my thighs,
wicked tongue wrapped
in verse,
drive and provoke,
serenade
this dancing knot
of prose hidden here,
a hungry mound
saturated beneath a soft
cocoon of sweltering flesh,
suspended in expectation
inspired to spill forth
steaming compositions
sticky on his epic lips,
grinning.
And he’ll rise then
breathing a new stanza
onto my fragrant neck
“Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper
as he fills me with a new
refrain
emphatically taunts
my music
to sing down onto
his tightened fuse,
running rivulets spiraling
along his determined thighs,
crying out into his
listening ear,
a requiem so potent it
drips off the page
and becomes some reality.
I am speechless, what a way you have with words
I love this. Great imagery, and potent. Reminds me of the stuff I used to write.
Two thumbs up!!!
I did post something, how long before things show up?
A Few Things I Need (Part 1)
I need a woman that recites poetry
So when we speak it will not be monotone
But every word spoken, will be spoken poetically
Our words will be like tattoos
Written on our walls of thought
Filling in the cracks and diminishing the erosion caused by past significant others
I need a woman that can listen
Even when I have nothing interesting to say
I need a woman that will walk past me and I will damn near break my neck trying to get a second look
Not because of her thighs, which shine like Ivory
Or her breast, which compliments her bra perfectly
Neither her face, or what she wears cosmetically
No….Not at all
Its her scent she leaves behind me
I ask myself two questions
“What have I done to deserve such beauty?”
“And damn……..what the Hell is she doing….walking alone?”
When I sleep I dream of her scent, wishing my pillow carried the same
Tossing & turning, trying to get my thoughts rearranged
Replaying her walk in my head and hearing those heals click
The same heals you walked by me with
-Angelo
love it
thanks maleeka!
i am that girl <3
Oh is that right?
The image
the image, wild, direct, seen
in scene.
vibrant, like sunset
like violins,
on a crescendo curve.
an omen,
an iconoGRAPHIC placemat.
tracings of true gold apature.
light in flux,
influx of purer light,
carrying no weight.
out past where the breakers foam,
out past the white anxious peaks,
sailing vessel silent,
waivers over my horizon,
fades crisply.
the main mast a cross
upon the liquid of memory
1997/7
Metaphors, Similes, Imagery. This was put together perfectly
2010- A year of wins
2010- a year to win
a year to turn within
a year to ascend(go higher)
a year to mend( things worth fixing)
a year to tend (to solely important things)
a year to blend ( with positive folks)
a year to bend (be flexible like a ballerina physically sexually spiritually verbally financially and emotionally)
a year to be a friend (to god, myself, and those in my existence)
a year to smile not grin (negativity not worth it)
a year to sip on hen (just a lil)
a year to go in (im going in 4x and Ima go hard)
a year to spend (more time with true kin)
a year to lend (positive words)
a year to go against sin (difficult but possible)
a year to be both yang and yin
a year to feel zen..
hope you in enjoyed..
copyright MIM…
And a new year to love! I will be working on everything in your poem lol thanks for posting maleeka
Like an invitation to the White House
An evening with a celebrity
A Rolls Royce in the driveway
How impossible our desires can be
Holding your hand for a moment
I turned my face away
Not wanting you to see my eyes
Afraid of what they would say
Pupils dilated
I can’t hide
Feeling connected to you
It’s something deep inside
Until we meet again
Not knowing if that will be
I’ll hold on to a moment
Only hoping you’ll remember me
Hope you liked it…..sad but true.
I will remember……..YOU
I loved this;) thanks for posting
You Adandon with no Reason
I journeyed down where I lost you
to my surprise, there you stood
a different light shone upon you
You’d steal it all again if you could
You abandon with no reason
no recourse or sorrow shows
I vanished for a season
tried to find a way to grow
I’ve been there through your losses
Mourned enough for years
you never said what caused this
so I’m left with the tears
It matters not how much you pain me
My life for you I’d give
Yet something in you restrains me
For you I’d rather live
VanceLemley© 2009
Heartbreak, it makes a weak man stronger.
Afraid of Darkness
There is something daunting of the darkness
an eeriness that creeps within
A white wolf waiting for its prey
So white that I can see his coat clearly
Afraid I become, becoming motionless as if paralyzed from waist down
unable to move my legs and run free
A fear that sticks with me through the ages
Unable am I to be brave
I hear my own heart pounding
louder than any normal heart should
I become uneasy, frightened all alone
I sit back and wait for my nightmare to take course
At all moments of the Dark I wonder with light
hoping it saves me from the unknown not it my sight
I cannot help my tension, I know nothing is out there, I am safe, just walk
While walking my mind draws out illusions
My fear prevents me from being free of chilling thought
I cannot erase the images out of my mind; I haunt myself
Allowing my fear to be smelled by those really outside
Only to hope my stench will not be tracked
You really painted a picture with this one
Fraszka “Na przyjaźń pięknych płci obu” [zamęt lutowy]
))
Przyjaźń wartość czysta, doskonała
W istocie
Frasunek mędrców, poznajesz w ochocie
Rad kto miał przyjemność
ze swadą wypowie jakież oddanie i serdeczność
miał w drugiej osobie
Dyskusji nie podlega
Cnota jest wysoka
Warta i szkiełka i pańskiego oka
Cóż jednak się staje
gdy przyjaźń, tak niewinna
cnotliwą być przestaje?
choć wie, że nie powinna;)
Chochliku! nicponiu! Opanuj słabości!
Wszak przyjaźń to inna płaszczyzna bliskości!
Lecz cóż masz biedny począć gdy rzucone kości?
Kobietą czy Mężczyzną, Człowiekiem! jesteś Drogi
lecz zastanów się po trzykroć
gdy staje w Twe progi
Czy warto taką przyjaźń pchać między nogi ?!!!:)))
Thank You for posting Natalia!
It is too much of a chore, this love
It is too much of a chore, this love,
too much of a keeping track; lovers,
they are always on a look out for a lapse,
when his love might dim, or his passion slack,
and each time he is quiet, the other fears
it is the end, and each time he is terse,
the other takes a spin at Auden’s verse
and imagines himself recompensed, though
a moment ago he felt the pangs of death.
Love is a botched experiment in symmetry,
and all lovers mutter under their breath -
‘If equal affection can never be true,
why can’t the more loving one be you?’
lol Its funny because I feel the same thing sometime
absence – a tanka
it is so hollow
the place where once lived my heart
waiting your return
is there any meaning left
your absence leaves just a void
Michelle Wooten
© 1-3-10
I put paint in the showerheads,
stained myself random shade and hue,
just wanting to look how I felt.
Purples, reds, yellows, rosy pink
grace, outward acceptance…
I put paint in the showerheads
in rage and fire, passion and
hope for tomorrows bathed in light.
Rosy colors, my love, adoration
directed solely at you but
I put paint in the showerheads
fourteen days, seven hours and
sixteen minutes, since the last kiss
goodbye. And fourteen days, seven hours
and sixteen minutes… I turned blue ’cause
I put paint in the showerheads.
BE CHRISTMAS
By Centy Ryan (Mangpu telen kom)
Games Village, Imphal.
The silence of cold and bare night
Will break the chain,
When the baby king will be born
In Bethlehem;
One can see a ray of hope for humanity
A clan of divine
Yet! laying low on a poor manger.
The ever made, love of God,
As, warmth like the hearth of fire
Unity of a family will return in
One table
You will yearn even after you death
Lest! They all prove worthwhile
Celestial bodies will exalt Him
You can replace them
Just by a simple word
Say, to someone ‘I care for you’.
His smile will be enough
For the whole world.
Ere! You can only utter a cry.
When the eve rest be Christmas
Like a dewy morning gave life
Even thou live only for a while
Be a float, as genuine brother
Folks! Greeting’s merry Christma.
thanx ppl…i will try hard to be a poetics…lolz
lol u don’t have to try hard
Haven’t found anyone, it’s a dream…
Sounds like a pretty good dream
The Wild by Christopher Vitale
I awake suddenly, away from society and its poison
I roam the land and its unknown territory to man
I stand-alone with no one to pester me
My spirit is free and my mind cleared
I am in the “WILD”
North from the lower 48
I have ridden free from the ruling, being reborn
My days are unknown but adventurous the least,
I live off my instincts and mobility
Nothing here to save me, but for my hands and head
I must adopt to my world, but swiftly
It is kill or be killed out in the wild, where no man dares to roam
But I dare and I roam, living my life
I learn fast, develop my senses rapidly like a White wolf that needs his prey to stay alive
I learn the ins and outs of the land,
I develop new and important skills; skills that help me survive
None more important than Patience
My patience is what saves me, allows me to be the hunter,
I out wait any animal that roams through my territory, waiting for an accurate kill, allowing me to be a glutton
I devour my food when presented for meat often is lean and my rations are limited
I learn to go days with out food for this reason,
I train myself to the ways of the land
The winters are brutal and cold; I freeze but fight through,
I do not mock the wild or its surroundings for it has the advantage over me
Everything is in its favor, it does not want me here and it will wait me out, wait for me to blunder, then throw its final blow
But I cannot let this happen, I must live through and tell my tales
For this is living and this lifestyle is just to good to give up
this is really for real this isn’t fake i know it might look suspicious
really i just needed this place
where i can express but still protect myself
i’m sitting at my desk in front of my mirrror
my eyes never looked so wide
i just shaved my head
& i’m not wearing any makeup
i talked to Blake on the phone all morning
he said the Eye altering alters all
and my Eye’s been altering a lot lately
seems the world isn’t at all like it used to be
last year, last week, or even an hour ago
i’m aware of my heart
more than ever now
a thousand birds
in my chest circling
a thousand horses
thundering
i look into the mirror and see you
peering back at me
my eyes in your face
your eyes in mine
beautifully written
Was That Her by Christopher Vitale
Down a narrow path I walked; it was a cloudy yet cooling day
My head down and keeping to myself, for a split second I look up
As you pass by I see your face
A double glance I take; I stare you down
I look harder to see but you are not she
You reminded me of her, for the split second we made contact
Memories of her brought back to me
My emotions run high and that nervousness I felt the first time we met comes back
I now think of the past, about my time with her
We walked side by side and were bonding
Now separated by our lives and choices, we no longer speak
It took me long to rid you of my mind, my life
A split second was all it took for me to remember your smile, your face
I see I am not over you as I have thought
This brief encounter brought you back into my life
And now I sit thinking of you again, hoping you are well
Hoping we cross paths again
OMG…I actually shed a tear. This is my situation now, unrequited love so true… I still remember the bliss that is you
Thank you, Angelo, for letting us scrawl all over your wall
lol no problemo
Smoke, Break -by Jo3
You give Me only carcinogenic cognition’s.
Which elicits suspicions of your true intentions.
Is it Your aim to give then maintain pleasure…
Or are your emissions a bit more malicious?
Potentially Detrimental?
But You are my nicotine fit,
And I just cant seem to kick….
The Habit, I gotta Have IT.
Have You…
Grasp You…
Grasp IT…
I gasp and find Your flame lit.
It would be a shame to waste this.
So I draw all of You…
Into Me…
Now together We burn infinitely.
Exhale, while I breathe…
Inhale, as I sigh…
Feed off My O2 and give Me Your CO high.
Confound Me with Your compound elements.
Revive Me, I’m in desperate need of My periodic fix.
Permeate amongst My fingertips,
And rest between My lips.
Impose Your taste on My palate…
Slowly invade My respiratory tract;
You are the Most Tantalizing form of cancer, In Fact…
I invite IT…
Invite You…
Ignite You…
Ignite IT…
I’m a slave to self-destruction and You…
Like It…
But You are merely My nicotine fit.
An overwhelming Jones,
And if puff comes to shove I would surely, Forfeit IT.
Forfeit You…
Quit You…
Quit IT…
© 2009 Jonah D. Mixon-Webster
How Can You Let Go?
By Ann Belle
How can you let go
When all you can think about is him?
How can you let go
when your body surrenders every time
a mere thought of him crosses your mind?
How can you let go
when the whole of your being wants to
Rest with him… in his arms…
to feel his strength and his warmth?
How can you let go
when the thought of him serves like a drug
that allows you to experience heaven,
and you don’t want to stop…
you want it again and again…
How can you let go
when you dream smelling his skin… his breath?
How can you let go
when all you ever want is to rest your head
in his neck and feel his pulse on your cheek?
How can you let go
when all you can remember was
that moment when you lay beside him
naked and your body spooned with his
when his hand was placed in your breast as you both fell asleep?
How can you let go when every morning you wake up and you want it again, to kiss his lips
while you brush his hair…
to feel his ever aggressive tongue with yours…
how can you ever let go
when every time you breathe, you can inhale
his splendor
his power…
his passion…
inside you?
how can you ever let go
when every time you close your eyes you see his stare and all your defenses melts away
how can you let go when every time you look at yourself…
you see him inside you…
how
can
you
let
go?
visit: thefountainyield.blogspot.com
i like!
very much
thanks- visit my site: thefountainyield.blogspot.com
cheers- ann
In the East the sun rises
West the sun will set
A sense of direction I must have
My compass aids me in this unruly yet remarkable task
Who knows where my North is
My place of tranquility and immense pleasure
Yet,magnetic North is the default
of this precious compass of mine
With it none can get lost
Indicating is what it does
A bearing one needs to have in life
And love,compass of mine,A sense of direction it gives
What if this love crawls away
And wonders to yonder lands
Do i lose direction
Do i stumble and freight
Do i panic and fumble
Well that would only be an illusion of love
4 true love,will always guide
mould and correct
cherish and forgive
Nurture and give whole heartedly
Lead you to the land of promise
A land rich in fertility
Where its offspring will invite and play
Lead me now my compass………
………….Love is the compass of life
Poetry:
a window a doorway a
crack in the concrete -
the magic words:
opening
Very nice reminder of a very real reality!
This sestina comes out of the following prompt words, with the added constraint of 10 syllables per line:
I
know
where
the
wild
is
CRAZY THINKING
It’s when things get crazy I think that I
Can do a lot more than what I do know
How to do. Instead of looking for where
Help can be found, I just rely on the
Quick thinking and good judgement of my wild
Side; know what is, simply is what is.
There are times when I should ask for help. Is
That a sign of weakness, or a sign I
Might be wiser than my years? A bit wild,
It does not hurt to be daring if the
Outcome harms no one. This much I do know:
Sometimes asking does not lead anywhere.
Staring at these four walls, I can see where
I have made mistkes. Perfect living is
Not my claim to fame, and if asked, then the
Best response might be, “Exactly what I
Did I may not remember, but I know
That I did my best to have fun, be wild.”
So now, let me go out into the wild.
Let me take my chances; let me see where
This new road will lead me, because I know
It has to take me somewhere new. It is
Untraveled, rocky. It may lead where
I have never dreamed of going. And the
Call of the unknown is stronger than the
Fear of making mistakes. It is a wild
And reckless call, one that maybe I
Have heard in a dream, while walking somewhere
Alone. It is sweetly singing It is
Hauntingly humming. It’s something I know.
Vibrating in my chest, I will know
Its melody and song. Attending the
Lunacy of the call brings me what is
A newer message, “You must not be wild!
Calm down! Fight back! You never know just where
The monsters will attack!” Blatantly I
Called out, “I know I’m not crazy! Now where
Can the wild me hide? Or is it time yet?”
Michelle Wooten
© 1-8-10
that extra push and extra motivation gets to us all. I could use some of that right now lol
“Like all others,Dedicated with love to
her for whom I know
no equal”
Poetry
When they write
Some may get trapped between the lines
For me it opens the prison which I
Built from guilt
For me just simply
Rhymes easily provide safety
My pen captures thoughts carried by vanilla scented winds
It helps me begin
Admonishes my sin
Paper is safer as blue lines blur the slow march of time
It will never say we are just friends
Whispered secrets stay hidden
True love is never forbidden
Whispers of “I will forever love you” abound
But will never be found
Warren A. Evans, III© 2009
So deep, I damn near drowned. You painted a masterpiece. And I can tell its real
So Cold by Christopher Vitale
The first signs of winter arrive, the frost stained on the windows, the icicles hanging from my doorway
The midnight shivers while I attempt to stay warm, with only a small heater by my bedside
I wake up to a brush of cold gush air and my toes are cold through my thick-layered knitted socks
I wash up and get ready to greet the great outdoors, so I bundle up tight
But the strength of the wind is so strong it goes right through my protection
And my shivering resumes once again
I walk forward, telling myself to think warm thoughts; I can walk through the pain
But I feel my face pulsing from the frost and I can no longer feel my ears, so delicate they have become, like violet tulips that with once flick would shatter
I walk on and on to my destination but I am now seeking warmth
The first sight of protection I see and leap towards it full speed
My shivering begins to swell down and my feeling in my face rearrives
A large cup of hot coco to sip slowly as the warmth swirls down my throat warming my belly
I am at ease and comfort
Now I must reattack this Cold and step outside once again
Knowing that within a few minuets I will be reseeking a place for warmth
I can’t wait for the Cold. The Summer can get too repetitive.
“The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.”
-Jean Cocteau
Love that quote!
Past Times
Our history tucked in my back pocket for safe keeping till this day remains a mystery. Day in and day out, your face was all that I had seen. Open eyes shut out to the world, yet obsessions lied beyond eyes of our lies later brought to light of who we really were. I remember our continued conversations that crept till sunrise and sundown, some of importance and some left unspoken. Your goofy traits I’d have to say created our best times. I craved the mystery behind those eyes that sent chill up my spine. Did you think I would forget those times? Wrapped in your blanket of wisdom and warmth discussing the triumph you’d want, or never mention. Connection so deep beyond what we could bear. Knowing it’s rare yet we continue to stare into the eyes of love for it was never there. Catastrophic ending was much needed yet looking back we were a heck of a pair. Don’t get me wrong we were never a match, yet we had a bond till this day that I seemingly can’t shake. Tonight I write this poem for you in the remembrance of what keeps me awake. Whether we speak or not, these memories cannot be erased, just truly missed. You remind me once in awhile of what it is that I seek. Forever will you be tucked in my back pocket of memories I long to keep. Deep in my heart the key you once held remains locked. For this special place is known only to me and now brought to light and shared with you. As I’ve mentioned before I refuse to be that “typical” girl. I claim you as my past time friend, past time lover, confidant, and more. Live, love, and laugh.
The words and expressions of a Free Spirit. You really got Talent Cynthia. Your husband will treat you like a Queen
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Go to WordPress.com
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[...] Guide for the Amateur Physicist The Secret Behind Fedor's Punching Power Revealed | MMA WorkoutQ & A with Fly Casting Instructor David Phares | Michael GracieThe Art of Poetry « {{Artistic Physics}} [...]
sweet-throated robin song
awakens me in dark hours
before dawn
Kinda sounds like a Robert Frost poem;)
[...] Last but not least, a blog that is mostly dedicated to poetry. The poet/blogger Angelo created a page where readers could come and post poems of their own which is pretty cool. You can check it out at Artistic Physics. [...]
Is it so wrong of me to want a love in which I can hold conversation?
Is it wrong that I yearn for knowledge?
Is it wrong that I long and seek for logical romance?
I say “Nay” to all 3 questions proposed
It is I whom shall shape my destiny and future
For I am patient, thus patience is the future
Patience falls in line with process
Process falls in line with progress
I surely will find progress in the processing of my patience
Patience my people, is what we need
The rest will fall into place once we know when to strike.
Wake up my beautiful people
We are at war with ourselves, no other but ourselves.
Patience my people, Patience.
This is fun for me already:) its funny that took me 3 minutes to compose. Angelo, youa re truly a good man and an inspiration. God Bless & please welcome me as a new member, I go by the name Nicholas, M. Pleased to be acquainted with you all.
3 minutes??? You gotta be kidding man lol j/p. But thank you and God bless you as well. Sometimes, well, A LOT of times I feel exactly like the poem you wrote. thanks for sharing
I view the pictures of the past.
The lines and different aspects of the angles.
How the shadow tends to follow, making the Individual fade behind the hidden truths of the picture.
It’s simply, a memento
How the picture itself has the will to shape the every design to fit your imagination.
I feel the empathy for thoughts of the picture
It’s as though I can touch it with my scent, I smell the bittersweet of it golden youth.
As aged wine I taste it without no understanding.
Oh how the photograph wants to show it’s potential growth.
While the Individual is caught without no prescience idea yet ready for that moment.
and as they both cross, it interferes with the light of it’s disposition.
Leaving us shaping the photograph of the Individual.
It’s just a reminder, that shows the flaws of the photograph and the faults the Individual accepted to remain just.
Unethical to the Ethics of behavior and politically correct for the mistakes of the natural state of beauty.
Lustful Admiration, a sinless crime that leaves the photograph caught in solitude wanting to escape the invincible act that it produces.
It’s just a memento,
A reminder
That All give birth, to things that die.
Nicole C. Humphries (Skittle)
“Lustful Admiration, a sinless crime that leaves the photograph caught in solitude wanting to escape the invincible act that it produces.
It’s just a memento,
A reminder
That All give birth, to things that die.”
You brought it to a WHOLE NEW level
Soaring to new heights, not blinded by the sun’s light. For inside my nest I lay eggs and as the protector I am too fly reminding you I will not get caught in your web that was designed for trapping perfection. Never going to reach rock bottom again cause venom is hiding behind every broken branch. I am free. Don’t disturb me mentally. I watch from the mountain top and see how society seems to posses nature. Trying to rectify something that is intangible. I see your potential, boxed in with holes which and inside you feel the rejection and the disrespect from whom it was that clipped your wings. If Sky is the Limit I wish to reach the solar atmosphere where stars are risen and not fallen. A place where I can console lost souls and prepare them for the future. For I am the living testimony. I hold perspective high awaiting for more than your understatement of what you see before your eyes. For you envy on the inside that you can’t cage me or make me sing unto lullabies. For I drink from the well of youth and my beak opens to sing undying truths, I am Heaven’s sent instrument, a tool unto you. So therefore please don’t try to cage beauty. Please don’t cage beauty with your lustful desires nor your flattery which may fascinate me but does not appeal to me. Destiny was designed for you to reach the best. As if this is God’s play and I watch as you perform your best in character but your just dwelling within a pigeons nest. For vultures literally do shit to cool themselves off. Awaiting in air prowling as a Lion hidden in the field of colors that matches his description. So no, no fowl play here. I just watch and I listen, I watch and I listen to Life. With a heart as hard as gold I do sometimes do the same thing twice or more just for the affection That I personally yearn for. I’m not you nor of this World. Just refined as a piece of the puzzle to mend the wholeness that seemed to slowly rot as solitary confinement does for those that lost their dreams while in the “whole”. I watch as you deeply bite and leave your imprint on the Apple that taste so sweet as PIE. that was picked from MY Tree but oh how it sours your stomach, how it sours your stomach because you misunderstood Me. Don’t pick where I lay my eggs don’t disturb my nest for then I will have your eye and will turn you into the apple of my eye. Again I say, I am soaring to new heights and I don’t move from mountain to mountain but the mountains move for me because as a visionary tell me what it is that you don’t see about me. And I will have to reply that you have not flown to were I’ve been so therefore you can’t reach to where I am going and that my present gift is not a lie.
©Nicole C. Humphries (Skittle)
How long you been writing?
I have been writing since I was a child.
This is my first share, just started expressing myself in writing this year, its been very theraputic, please give feedback……
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
I didn’t know betta, I swore that this chick was MO betta,
but she was on da hustle, what you’d call a go getta,
getta as in getta fool to ……………..sex was goos so I letta…
let her feel on top…………..like I would always letta…
let her get away with this, and a lot of dat…
let her feel that she was way on top of her MACK,
But my status was G and her “tight” became slack….
Bitch done fell down the stairs..n fucked up her back..
but i couldn’t feel her pain cause only bitterness remained…
so I gave it a few weeks but my feelings were the same…..
where did I go wrong i needed to know,
when did my wife turn into to a……….
..bitter, angry person, who held contempt,
and there was no coming back, irregardless of attempt,
now my status is O…oh why me, oh how could she, oh fuck these hoes,
but theres always two sides and if i wore her shoes, what would i do…
if I felt unwanted, undesired and irrelevant, and unappreciated
would I I fall prey to those who pray,
pray for those with insecurities,
say the right words and then they on their knees,
laughing to they self while she licks on these…….
while you at home like “baby call me back please”
DAMN….I cant handle the thought, hurts like hell…..
but my heart is now stone, so I’m like oh well….
Now my status is D..as in the end of the relationship..
now i’ll partner with the G O D, and build myself MO BETTA….
cause everything happens for a reason,
life lessons prepare you for the next season……
what would you do if your mate commits treason,
and lies in your face like you didn’t know betta,
would you play along and just lettum,
lettum get away with this and a lot of that…..
Just started this year??? I would think you been writing all your life.
Life experience has taught me that my sanity can be maintained by simply expressing my feelings with the arts..so I now write, take pictures and DJ….the poetry seems to be the most therapeutic for me (and the least expensive) …and if I can touch some one in a positive way, then it’s a blessing.
I see it the same way. I think God knew we would get stressed out and made us artistic to deal with it.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
As I rise and reminisce, I can’t help but think of the opportunities I’ve missed,
or more fittingly squandered, yet still, more seem to pop up each day,
but true to my nature I seem to let them slip away
..or not even recognize since my blessings always wear a disguise…and are not visible to this common man’s eyes, so for shallow thoughts, I can not claim my prize………………………..
I only saw what was in front of me and never what was inside of me,
cause what was in front of me was what was inside of me
..so God had to intervene and put things in order, using tools like Ness n Dex to prepare me for what’s coming up next.
So I close my eyes so that eye can see exactly what IS in front of me
and ask for guidance so I’ll know exactly what to do with the blessing that I’ll just call YOU…..
TOUGH TIMES
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They say tough times don’t last, but tough people do……..this is hard to believe when tough times have hit you……and you are clueless of your next step, never thought about your previous step… something inside goes “I told you so”…and your friends have all disappeared.. a while ago….. saying to each other “I told you so”,but they never told you…oh, YOU don’t get off that easy…..you are simply victim of YOU, not the hypocrites YOU chose to make friends…..now do your means justify your end……TheEnd……..hold up wait a minute…..or two..you’re still here, all is not lost..but for poor decisions..you must pay the cost…now can you stand like a man..can you cry like a man..can you reach out for help like a man…can you be stoic like a man..can you ACT like a man..or :are you just a man…listen to your spirit……that intelligence unobstructed by YOUR thoughts…maybe it will turn out better than you thought…but don’t take my advice take theirs…Tough times don’t last….
I can relate to this, especially now. Sorry its taken me so long to respond
this is my first post…..Let me know what yall think….
“mine.”
need me
like
baby needs similac
cuz ohhh ya know
i know you love it
when i bring that
old thang back
hand claps
enocouragin my flow
these lines are not rehearsed
i thought i should know
that
your approval to my groove
is not anticipated
i have no intentions for permission
to keep the vibe i have created
although ur participation is most
appreciated
i dont sweat it
if you dont like it
cuz im the who made it.
i dont care if this poem dont rhyme
cuz who said it was a poem
i just call this piece mine.
hah I love the ending and the best part about it is that poetry NEVER has to rhyme. It doesn’t even have to carry words. It can be written on a face, or an old abandoned building or even an Oak tree that withstood time, etc.
Love your confidence and (non)desire(?) for approval…
Love it!!!
Assassination
The majority is after the source
When they find out they will certainly destroy
Anything the breaths
And loves
If your mind is different from the axiom
They cause pain to the maximum
Amalgamation among us, only to sin
The preacher pretending to be born again
Black misogyny takes over the world
Lil’ boys want to be girls
Sexual identity becomes elusive
The beast becomes more exclusive
Subliminal messages in everything you see
Demonic mind control with plasma TVs’’
False images of Christ to make us non existent
True expression becomes total banausic
Specking false truth with deceiving tongues
Wearing crosses perpetrating like you know His son
Talents exploited for Hades cause
With a bullet pushing through my heart
And I fall.
I love the kind of poetry that relates to these Earthly struggles that we go through everyday. Oppression and self-oppression. And the bliss of the ignorant.
Thank You. This will probably be the only comment on this kind of poem, since we are so and very receptive only to the romanticized deceptions of this world.
Well the problem is that most people don’t do research and are so conditioned to “nonsense” or make belief that subjects like these don’t really relay to them. Its not their fault though. If you are fed lies long enough then eventually you will start to believe them.
Yes, I understand that. I’m only 20 trying to teach 50+ about the world. I let my family members read this poem and to say the least they were not pleased. “How do you know?” was their response. So now I’m not fooling with them. Like you said, ignorance is bliss. I think Man knows the Truth but denies it (Lauryn Hill-Social Drugs….one of my favorite songs) just to fit into a world that was created for us. Babylon(AMERICA)
One thing is for sure, you are better than I was at 20 years old! At that age I was still stuck in “The Matrix” and I just started doing research and finding things out over the past year and a half. Its not that people don’t know the truth. But they are too afraid of it. There is an old Chinese Proverb that says, “If a man says he is thirsty fill his cup halfway. And if he is still thirsty fill his cup again.” Thats how you have to look at knowledge when you give it to people. Many say they are thirsty but even more waste it. So give knowledge in little portions, that way you won’t waste it.
Awesome!!
If knowledge was a criminal, it would get the death penalty every time. Sad but true lol
Amanda, your poem is very good, don’t worry about what people think or say..if they don’t get it..it doesn’t matter..we all have our own personal journeys on our way to spiritual enlightenment..just try to be the best YOU that you can be..your best way to influence others is by the example you set, look at the various historical figures e.g. Jesus, Ghandi etc. Continue doing YOU and building your personal relationship with the most High..though I am not qualified to say you are/aren’t on the right track..you will know it in your heart..I believe God’s natural law is written in each of our conscience’s..so listen to it and grow…bless..and definitely be careful of the trap of feeling that you are enlightened, while others are not and feeling sorry for them..at that point you should feel more sorry for yourself……HUMILITY is key..although frustration can set in when things that may seem obvious to you aren’t to others..age is less of a factor than you may think, some spirits are more mature/evolved than others..but i won’t get into that…enjoy and learn from your journey..it truly is personal..in time we will all be where we are destined to be…..
Great reply RC!
Lyrics:
“Poetrys a part of me, it flows inside and then pours out of me
Flooding the paper with all the doubts in me,
My hopes, wishes and undoubtedly the love always surrounding me
Contained within the ink thats soaking the tissue soundlessly.
My Heartbeat sets the speed fort he rhythm in my arteries
As it pumps the poetry Im living with regard for the
Moments that put scars in me and conditioned me remarkably
Music is the answer to the problems that make it hard to be -
Scaring me some more with their claws and teeth
And have me falling on the floor, where it aint hard to see
Without music I couldnt get up partially
Together with the art in me, they form essential parts of me
Music and poetry, united by love,
Smoothly grow in me, showing me the pleasures there are
When Im going through the bluest of times
Through music and rhymes I find something soothing enough to keep moving in
Music and poetry, united by love,
Smoothly grow in me showing me the pleasures there are
When Im going through the bluest of times
Through music and rhymes I find something soothing enough to keep moving in life
(I keep moving in life,
I keep moving in life
So keep on moving,
Keep on moving in life)”
I been wanting to put my poetry over music for the longest bro. Keep doing what you do. Be that “Lyrical Myrical” I always talk about.
HER DEATH IS HIS TO COME
To catch the fear
The lonesomeness
The idle hearts
Are broken in sorrow
Deepened wounds
With tearful
Dread
And torrents
Bled
Ill-fated
Ill-gotten
The love is spoiled
Now soaking in
His grief
The end of it
All
Has come
Despondent memory
His life is
Worthless without
Her love
Bleeding hearts
Cupid’s arrow
Is tainted
More hearts
Forever crying out
In sombre, DEATH!
Eviscerated hearts
They are hers
In her sepulchre
Where love is spoiled
Her death is his to come!
Pure, Raw, Unconstrained emotion, through words.
The Waves
by Amanda R. Brown
I don’t mind the waves that crash upon me
For my feet have learned to stand
They come
Each stronger than the last
But I’m not weary
For out of this anguish
Greatness comes
For the waves
Provide a shelter for wisdom
And teach courage
That my soul has never known
My eyes
Have seen many days
And purpose
Hath wondered away
Love
Drowned, as well, hope
But I’ve learned to stand
And the water feels good.
hmm…wish I was as bold as you. I’m scared of the waves and plus the water is too cold. I been in Cali since 2006 and ask me how many times I been to the beach & jumped in the water? lol
LOL, i never been to the beach, i live in Arkansas
lol hahaha
Essentially the moment would arise when conjoined factors of the inevitable was bound to show up at my doorstep.
Without warning easing into my soul the pleasures I once wept for manifest itself into beauty beyond words.
Takes me….
Makes me….
Escape
Takes me to another place where the moon resides with starry skies and dancing lights. Where the moods just right with purple skies and candle lights.
You took me by surprise.
Now this fire ignites from the beauty it yearned. The feeling of being touched, held, and embraced as discerned. Not wanting to come down from this high, I’m convinced you are mine.
My light
My knight
that took me by surprise.
Takes me….
Makes me….
But please don’t break me
For what I envisioned marvels the notion of perfection. Your eyes, your lips, the touch. The words you utter that causes a spellbound of attention. You have my attention. I’m at your attention.
Eternity creeps when your presence not met. Haunting desires for the need to be in reach. Counting down excruciating hours upon your arrival.
I ponder…
Could this be…
This place I dwell where the moon resides with starry skies and dancing lights. Where the moods just right laying aside you in the dim of light.
The glance
The stare
The twinkle in your eyes
becoming uncontrollable
You are to me what I need
A masterpiece of Art Deco hung abouve the mantle that speaks to my heart with colors painted only of love.
Bright stars that have guided into existence to explore the unknown formed into the perfect love story of two hearts conjoined inevitably
Surprisingly
Entisingly
A hideout from this place we know
A place we yearn
That takes me…
Makes me…
Escape
Even if it’s only for a moment
Listen here miss Cynthia, me and you need to have a poetry session, up close and in person. I promise i’ll be good lol j/p
You lie!
If i’m lying i’m flying:p
The Stars Shine
by Amanda R. Brown
The skyscrapers in my mind haven’t quite reached the Heavens
Bricks crack and the roof is covered with rust
My tenants have become angry
They weep for the freedom they once knew
My windows are broken, shattered
The rain is coming
Rodents nibble at the memories I possess
Leaving me with nothing
And the morning zephyr effortlessly knocks me to my knees
I haven’t reached the Heavens
But the stars shine on me
Classic story of struggle and the endurance to withstand it.
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In the anchors of a slave lies a solid expedition
A rendition that burns and turns chest, stomach, intestines and the rest
What do I do when the love of my life happens to change in condition?
Shovel and forks I want to take to fight this situation that appears as contend
I want to pray unto God, but I’m scared of my sins my empty bins haunting
Shouting in noise but I have no idea, no plan to face the woman I offend
The woman I do nothing for, the woman I treat like shit in mating
In the wells of my mind and in the hammer of my heart it beats no less
Faster and faster and I ask God to Bless, but all goes to Hating
And then she grows strange each hour, each month parting with Lucifer’s friends
In the anchor I defend I fight for my marriage but what if I doubt who I’m dating
And in my entirety divinity pours extreme blood melts down my chest
Where my heart, find nothing but doubt and skepticism
And I ask her can I meet you half way and her answer is no instead of yes
I’m a slave, I’m a slave I’m a slave and I behave detriment to my imperialism
I’m a slave, I’m a slave I’m a Slave…Yes
God I pray that you free me from this prism
Author: Franklin Bowker……Is this Love that I’m Feeling?…….
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Found your site while searching for Kenneth Koch’s poem The Art of Poetry. Looks interesting and enough people are participating (and often enough) to keep it going. Here’s my contribution…
Words–
I love ‘em
would do anything for ‘em:
buy ‘em ice cream
send ‘em to Maui
arrange conjugal visits
with their prefixes and suffixes.
Words–
i love ‘em!
Thanks bro! And thanx for your input! Hope to see you around here again. I have a lot of things going on around here. Kick your shoes off and make yourself at home
-Angelo
If you’re in uncomfortable position and have got no money to move out from that, you will need to take the mortgage loans. Because it would help you for sure. I get car loan every year and feel myself good because of that.
thank you for a quite intriguing read, i hope you are going to do a follow up post because i can never read enough on this subject
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similar in the past? Let me know your thoughts…
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A man is only as good as what he loves.
———————————–
Cornell
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A little government and a little luck are necessary in life, but only a fool trusts either of them.
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Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.
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