Little Girl Lost, Poetry by Patricia Poulos

Genre: Death, Family, Hope, Hurt, Inspirational, Love,  Painful, Philosophical,  Relationships, Sad,

Little Girl Lost
Diana – Princess of Wales
by
Patricia Poulos

 

She was shy

But beneath that ‘little girl’ exterior

she was strong

She was only nineteen

She did not know how to react

to worldly situations which

involved her heart

She had not the experience

of older women

Nor the manner

in dealing with the experiences

she would encounter

as a married woman

The Fairy-tale Princess

She could not have envisaged

the torment she would suffer

Her father departed

The only person

upon whom to rely

for every aspect of her being

would share his affections

with another

She would have no one

to help carry her load

Yet the other had two

men to satisfy her desires

She had

nowhere to turn

Trapped

like a small animal in a cage

held high

for all to see

She was so young

She could not have seen

the murkiness of the waters

which would eventually engulf her

Waters in which

she would eventually drown

There is no precedent of decorum

for those

whose hearts have been shattered

No right nor wrong written

to guide the broken hearted

Just a stumble and fall

with no one to hold

Only the lesson

after the act

All too late

She was vulnerable

The weight of her burden

caused her to hold

onto any attention given

She would be

betrayed

again and again

Coerced into telling

… if more people knew

the burden would ease

But the children

would be left

with the burden of life

without her

The kiss and tell lover

revealed the intimacy of her trust

Now everyone knew

their inner-most secrets

Once released

the burden grew

An uncontrollable monster

which cannot be re-caged

A dictator

which commands response

She was left naked

Her soul was bared

The lessons were being learned

All would sympathize

But sympathy is hollow

it contains no substance

it provides no sustenance

The whole world knows

the shame has now spread

But this was not the intent

She knew not

what next to do

She craved for the promises made

Not to be kept

The Fairy-tale end

was not so to be

Then God

took pity

on this Little girl lost

and took her to Him

Perhaps now in death

she will end the tale

and live
Happily Ever After.

 

 

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The Sempiternal Sapphire, Poetry by Sohinee Dey

 Genre: Hope, Inspirational, Long, Motivational, Rhyme, Strong, Life,
Personality.

Out of nowhere, blowed the outraged zephyr,
Trying to diminish the glow of the sapphire.
Evocative and fetching all together,
Knew the wind not that it was nether!

Beleaguered by the wind, never did she cry,
Neither did she succumb into a mournful sigh.
Only believed that it will pass by,
And she will always hold her head high!

Ameliorated, she sat there,
Withstanding the wind; calling it mere.
Somewhere above the albatross cried,
Muffled and obliterated; in silent effluence, the wind crept by.

Then the sun shone in its full glory,
Nowhere was repentance; without it being sorry.
Engaged himself in a dalliance with the sapphire,
Scorched her; dissembling her in his fire!

Crestfallen was the sapphire now,
But promised herself never to bow,
Stronger she would be; made a vow.
Promised; a better route she would plough!

The rain came along,
Leaving behind a demure calmness behind.
Shy at first, then drenched the earth in ebullience.
Acting as an elixir for efflorescence.
The sapphire sat and let herself drench in petrichor.

Then the autumn was awakened,
Wherein the grip of the roots were slackened.
Left the greens and blooms to wither.
But a new beginning it was, for the sapphire.

The winter trailed in unannounced,
Froze the earth without an ounce of mercy.
Took the earth in its demesne,
But there she sat, shining in her ethereal flames.

The spring created an assemblage of blooms,
Cheered everyone out of their gloom.
The sapphire rejoiced in epiphany,
Without losing her shine; for fighting through all the infamy.
BY: SOHINEE DEY

 

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The Voice, Poetry by Tabith’Ashley

Genre: hope, inspirational, salvation, and suspense

So prone to not having a voice
So cold,
But that’s the result of the path that was chosen
Ready, set, get molded.
A million stones,
A thousand trees,
Yet not a time that seemed like the shade was frozen.
Identity stolen.
Reaching out beyond the underground,
In through the next door that isn’t closing.
I was chosen.
Long before my time,
Before those parents were even mine,
Or the sun touched our sky.
I’m here to answer the calling.
You wanna be free?
Come join!
Everybody fall in.
Racing to the finish,
Being obedient so I ain’t falling.
Even though we all fall sometimes.
But I get back up,
Brush my shoulders off and continue walking.
I’m through stalking,
Down that sad ol’ memory lane.
Things just ain’t the same.
Well of course not,
They’re supposed to change.
Adapt you say?
Well I’m the one making the changes,
So it’s already apart of me.
You see,
I was born ready,
With this truth here in my heart.
The whole community scorching!
And I’m the piece where the fire starts.
Confidence is a virtue.
I’ve entered into a new regime.
Kill me,
And I’ll turn the other cheek.
Come back to life,
And let you kill me again.
I won’t avenge!
The bigger person is the one who can walk away.
Let go,
And redirect that pain.
Channel that energy,
Into something positive and riveting.
Make some real noise with this creativity.
Oh you already hip to me?
Tell me what’s my biggest fear?
Who do I work hard to be?
Where am I striving for next year?
You still have the balls to judge me?
I didn’t think so!
I glow too much.
Forget blinding them,
I’m here to make my enemies choke.
Suspended from this program,
And I’ll be the one changing the channel.
Where’s the remote?
I’m no joke.
But I smoke when it goes down.
Leaving them envious…
Talking about the ones that frown when I get down.

By: Tabith’Ashley

 

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Sex At It’s Finest, Poetry by HonestlyFrank

Genre: Sex, Spirituality, Commitment, Hope, Inspirational, Love, and Temptaion.

Sex At It’s Finest by HonestlyFrank 
 
This could all be so simple we could just go that far to the point of no 
return, because the damage would be done. The horripilation is so surreal. 
We haven’t done it before, but I can imagine what that scene would look 
like. Let’s take a moment to picture our lips gliding softly against each other 
as smooth as silk, your hands caressing my body which is as soft as rose 
petals, my nails digging into your back carving every truth in that timing of 
pleasure, your pelvis conjoining with mine, and from there you sliding in on 
my island, and in that final thrust we’ve just reached the peak of my 
mountain. All of these thoughts came to mind just with the thought of you. I 
want you deeper though, I want to feel you in my soul even when you’re 
not in my presence. This has to be like no other. So instead make all of 
that physical love to my mind, know my ins and outs, every second on this 
earth with me counts. I know I’m more than what meets the eyes, so are 
you. Get deeper in me climax my heart with the choice to wait. Let’s wait til 
all of this makes sense, let’s wait until the physical sounds of our moans 
are just the rainfall in a desert, this has to be blessed so we can’t allow 
ourselves to make a mess.-HonestlyFrank 

 

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RUN, Poetry by La Shan Knox

Genre: Hope

RUN

by

La Shan Knox

If they don’t put joy in your heart and put a smile on your face – RUN
If you feel a callous in their voice with negativity as their friend – RUN
If they suggest you focus on the problem and pull out the solution – RUN

If they don’t support your dreams and make mountains out of moles – RUN
If they don’t sharpen your mind and make you better, bringing out the best within you – RUN
If their words can kill a plant, and poison the birthplace of a butterfly’s wings – RUN

If they see no good and feel as if everyone is out to get them – RUN
If they make noise in the quiet air as peace surrounds your mind’s sphere – RUN
If they eat poison as their meal and have misery for their drink – YOU BETTER RUN

If they can’t see the person in the mirror is filled with rage and bitterness with a temper for a volcano – DON’T RUN
Sprint to your peace
Leap into joy
Dash into love
Swim into hope and faith
And RUN to the best of yourself
That beautiful person within that GOD created you to be.

 

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YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW, Poetry by Eve Noel

Genre:    DARK, PAINFUL, HOPE

YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW by Eve Noel

His eyes are ocean blue, wide with excitement. He loved me. He cherished me. He laughed with me.

Wanting to touch his new friend. I hunger for him. His companionship. His warmth. Know me he not.

I revisit today with anticipation. The stares piercing. His eyes, the color of night. The long gaze sends a volt of lightning into my heart. The knife dipped in poison is thrust deep into my heart. The aim is to
kill. But I survived. I retreat. I am a clam.

To bring my soul back to life is tomorrow’s journey, which is now today.

Eve Noel

WGAE

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Decisions, Decisions, Poetry by Marcus J. King

Genre is funny and hope

 

Decisions, Decisions by: Marcus J. King  

 

Stuck. Lost. A brick wall.

 

Go left. Go right.

 

Make a left turn. Around the corner.

 

There…yes go that way!

 

Keep going…a little bit further.

 

Dead end. Dern it.

 

I can’t seem to get a break.

 

U-turn to the last possible mistake.

 

Left turn. Right turn.

 

I see a hill. Go straight.

 

Turn right. Turn left.

 

Keep going….just a few more steps.

 

Ahhh. I see a hill and openness.

 

I found the way. Almost there.

 

Wait no…going too fast.

 

There’s a cliff right there.

 

Abruptly stop.

 

Cliffs edge and the open blue sea.

 

Deceitful little hill back there.

 

Might as well enjoy the view.

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Beaten Path. Poetry by Naseha

Song on my lips, dust on my boots, and dark night around me I take a moment;
A moment to look around as I travel the worlds unknown.
My Arabian horse – Lester, smiles at me in the light on the lantern, we are lost again
In the dense of the mossy thick forest, echoing with wing’s drone.

Genre: Rhyme, Reflective, Philosophical, Hope, Romantic

Beaten Path
by Naseha
http://www.naseha.world

Song on my lips, dust on my boots, and dark night around me I take a moment;
A moment to look around as I travel the worlds unknown.
My Arabian horse – Lester, smiles at me in the light on the lantern, we are lost again
In the dense of the mossy thick forest, echoing with wing’s drone.

The yellow parchment of my dog eared tanned leather bounded sweaty dairy;
Which I so lovely call my logs, is eagerly waiting for my ink and quill
The stars speak, the midnight has passed, I pack away the day,
As I decrease the flame, from my mouth, see the creeping wet chill

Lester is snoring; peaceful with the mossy air of forgotten foggy forest trail
After a month and half in desolated the parched land of dust
The spirit in me, forces me out of my cozy cottage filled with aroma of mushroom
To take on the paths not known, under star, sun, or fog, walk I must

Lester, my trench coat, my log, my quill as my companion, I travel to embrace
The mist of the height, the thirst of stark, the lead of unseen brook
The tame of terrain wild, the serenity of the rushing gale, warmth breath of trees
Old, knotty, patchy, all safely, frozen for eternity, in pages of my book

Off the beaten path, away from comfort of known souls, under the Canopus
On creaking, dry mattress of a thousand yellow, green, and red
Occasional ease of the stained bedding in a lonely Inn on a highway, lit by single lantern
I give in to the insanity in me, to find, to seek, on virgin gravels to tread

I close my eyes as I walk, to lose the known paths, in getting lost in terra incognita
Only then can I chance upon inebriation of charting the chartless in rife
Maybe with few silver coins in the pocket, no mansion to pass on, but richer by far
Lived a million lives with each unsung path, I chart in chronicles of my roving life

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A Remarkable Tale from the Land of Podd, Poetry by Ed Newman

In a faraway land, in the Land of Podd,
folks felt themselves each just a little bit odd.
Why in fact, not a few,
not even a dozen,
and not just a sister or uncle or cousin…
‘Twas the entire country caught under this spell,
each believed only others were anything swell,
and each felt discouraged just a smidge by his lot,
and this is what happened, believe it or not.

Genre: Humor, philosophical, hope, motivational

A Remarkable Tale
from the Land of Podd
by Ed Newman

In a faraway land, in the Land of Podd,
folks felt themselves each just a little bit odd.
Why in fact, not a few,
not even a dozen,
and not just a sister or uncle or cousin…
‘Twas the entire country caught under this spell,
each believed only others were anything swell,
and each felt discouraged just a smidge by his lot,
and this is what happened, believe it or not.

It had been a bad year, and in addition to famine
there were enemy troops on the borders of Salmon,
their unfriendly neighbors near the Mountain of Yore
and the King was near certain that his land was done for.

So he needed a messenger to save their lands
and he sought out a hero from the kingdom’s bands.
But each made excuses, for this and for that,
One said, “My hair’s funny,”
and “I can’t wear a hat.”
A second, who resisted, said his nose was too fat!

The king tried reason, and he also tried terror,
but quickly realized that the latter’s an error,
so he promptly decided to appeal to God,
’cause these were strange people, these people of Podd,
for nothing was wrong… though each thought he was odd.

The king finally saw, although quite peculiar,
that the land would be lost — including their ruler! —
if he couldn’t find someone to carry out this task,
but there seemed no one else in his land left to ask.

Yet the Kingdom was saved, it turned out in the end,
all because the king knew that to save his own skin
he would have to step down from his throne, to the street,
and even though he didn’t like his own feet,
he became a great leader by hiding it inside
and he ran ‘cross the hills to the far other side
to bring back an army or some kind of troop
to finish forever this enemy poop.

I guess that is why some are kings, some are not.
We’re all quite the same, and we’re all that we’ve got.

 

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Wishful Thinking, Poetry by Norma Passarell

It took me thirty years of suff’ring mourn, oh dear!,
To tame the fiercest beast, my dreaded loneliness.
A lifetime of gregarious wildness ’twas indeed.
I was drunk every single night; there was no light.

Genres: Delusion, Hope, Illusion, Indifference, Love, Relationships, Sadness, Sorrow, Wishful Thinking.

Wishful Thinking
by Norma Passarell

It took me thirty years of suff’ring mourn, oh dear!,
To tame the fiercest beast, my dreaded loneliness.
A lifetime of gregarious wildness ’twas indeed.
I was drunk every single night; there was no light.

With time, I learnt to be in my own company.
I then saw you and in a whisper thought, to me,
I swear, you had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Hence you became my greatly loved Glaswegian prince.

Incertitude lifted me towards the sky, couldn’t sleep at night,
Then daydreamt ’bout how’d it be you kissing me throughout.
I asked you out. You said: “Why not?” But soon I knew
All was a figment of my brimful fantasy.

How ignorant I’d been! How couldn’t I see that you
Were not interested in me?! Now that you are gone,
You left me wondering how I will be alone.
Again, but even older, rejected I have been.

For now, I’ll loathe your accent on every mouth,
Even though I know it isn’t you to blame, but me,
For being too naive, and having forced you to love me.
Go away! Go away! With time, I’ll be okay!

 

 

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