"spt" poems
A Year ago, in the same date
As A Stranger I entered this beautiful Garden Hp
A Beautiful flower (Elsa) drags me with her pure heart
Wise words (from wolf, Sir Poet,Jack, etc.) kept me to know the life’s secret
Sweet buds (Smiriti, Aarvie,) enjoys me with their great writes
Love Birds (Brandon &jane;) echoes me their beautiful rhythms
My Beautiful Bros (ryn, Joe, pradip,spt, Mufiq) supports me and admires with their strong writes
My Sweet sisters (Donna, pax, nimah, Vicki) fills my heart with their pure poems
All my new friends (Eddie, patty, gray l, tropica, wepping willow, Mysterious , Jimmy, its gona make sense, packin heat ,Poetry journal,Dark n beautiful, Wilson, Rose, James, Margaux, Asim, etc) gave me beautiful space and spirits..
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
Spt 5-- domestic dispute inv alcohol + firearms Hawkins Terr. area-- Spt 7-- burglary purses stolen from 3 cars Wipple St-- night of Spt 18-19-- vandals untied shoes of large statue Center Park-- Spt 20-- mugging homeless suspect young woman cheeseburger Rt 8--
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
~~
**Dialogue and Oratory Between
SPT and Nat:**
~
***At the Intersection of
Perfection & Beauty,
By Blue Candlight***
~~~
come let us by and by,
soon meet,
under blue moon candle lit sky,
at this worthy intersection of
beauty and perfection,
be together,
contained,
yet unconstrained
let us speak of what
we see and sense,
come to come
to know,
of what does not appear
in this world easy readily,
what lies between
two points,
sharing,
needy of,
crossing destination revelations
*It's said of beauty,
once uncovered and
gazed upon whole,
be visible only at the
bottom of the bin of the
picked-threw,
it was here, where, perfection
once was lost
and may yet now be found,
where souls,
singled and singed,
seek to find of,
the perfection lost,
the untarnished beauty
within ones self
from the meadow can be seen
The Field Where Wonderment Grows,
wild is the bounty of colored beauty
then
and only there,
can oan one,
locate, judge and
accept
what never departs
a self*
at the road'meeting point,
at our time and place
appointed,
arrived but come
disappointed,
crossed and creased
by the journeys
travels and travails,
burnt blind,
eyes by life's headwinds,
singled and singed,
and the mind disbelieves, doubts,
the existence verily,
of the locale,
beauty & perfection
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
passerby words plain hidden
in a wall sconce of a
fly-bye compliment,
sent to the thankee intended,
creating an instantaneous,
Slam! Bam! Thank You Man!
yeah come , face slap me,
with open palm instant recognition,
there's a poem lurking therein, within,
that uncommonly good common observation,
like hearing a drill bit roar,
demanding with insistent persistent demandation,
"come out, come our, wherever you are"
the good lord makes 'em in
all kinds of shapes and flavors
then makes sense, most eminent,
to favor the good kind,
who go on marching in our number,,.
no claim here to good,
certainly not, sainthood,
that would be quite the hoot,
so settle, man, do settle
in and for the right kinda,
nothing could be finer,
than to be
in the company
of
my kin and kindred,
the kindest,
y'all
God bless all...
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
::::::::for SPT::::::::
(10w x 5)
...reading you,
i see, feel
a huge anvil,
overwhelming
possessing
.........i'd fly
lift the anvil
swoop you
and loved ones
i'd free you all
from what's been
weighing you down
then, relift the anvil
drop it
where it really belongs:
...upon free, delusional souls,
who must be controlled,
[maimed]
[permanently]
Sally
Copyright October14, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
AB:
Kings that sit on thrones,
We knock them off and take their place,
Mistake material of chrome,
But had to save the human race,
SPT:
For humanity would die
If left in the hands of spite
For the story's long sojourn
Faces of death untold
Handed down to those
Who were only left to morn,
AB:
In a world were born,
Having insecurity and hatred,
Fighting the chronic masses,
Of whatevers being displayed,
Draculas blood ******* days are over,
Overrun with shame and regret,
Like dissing two teams,
And never looking back , amazed by it,
SPT:
As I rise above he ashes
Lifting my spirit to wind
Never looking back again
Defeated they stand
Together we win
As silence summons the horizons
Standing under her son
Triumph births the dawn,
AB:
We do what we desire,
In your dreams there are no rules,
Birthing creations and cable wires,
Knowing there is no limit to what you do,
SPT:
Then cut these strings
And free me to roam
For what life is this
If I can never
Be at home,
These words like wires
String from vein
Is not free will to hone
Learning my desire
Self empower.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
~for SPT~
whose poems transform with lovingness
~~
*distinguishing, extinguishing,
the knowledges to retain,
reuse daily, mightily,
pleasures insights beloved,
honored with the stripes of daily use
then there are,
the knowledges to retrain,
non-removable, rising up from your
edges
of the very fine line
tween
pain and experience
they must Main Street remain,
be thankful for that,
for love regained,
needs the benchmark
of having lived love,
the loss of loss when recalled,
when new gets a turn, reinstalled,
is now twice sweeter*
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Shout outs to :
Mayas
Creep That Loved You
Wolf Spirit aka quinfinn
Soul Survivor
Eli
Elizabeth Squires
Aniya
Vaugue remembrance
Joe malgeri
Ember Evanescent
Aesha nisar
Weeping willow
Correna Taylor
SPT
KetomaRose
FNB
Kalypso
Wordvango
Lorena Lamas
Patty m
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
you were standing in the Texas Sun
with hands on hips
I saw you there
waiting
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
*I put this here to greet you all
I love you all
You all have become like family,
From the Likes of Valsa George, Mother of nature poems, to Soulsurvivor, a brave heart... To Sydrivers, a romantic heart, who left here without informing me,
To KarenN, a conjuring poetess who also left,
To WL Winter, he's like a dear Father of poetry
To SPT, a poet with refreshing words,
To Ja, a must read
To Rosalie, F.... A woman of impeccable poetry, to James, the author of a dear poem to my heart "The candle on top"
To Kristy, a soul-moving poetess
To Vicki, a Strong poetess
To R, A brave Writer
To Professor Marylyn-D, A woman of colors
To Stephan, with poems of wonder
To Stephanie, A warming, calming poetess
To Melissa, with a beautiful smile and heart
To Victoria, writer of intellectual poems
To Mary, A woman of Class
To Jamadi Verse, A poetess that brings heaven to earth with her poems
To Evna-Luna, a friend with beautiful words, to all and all and all,
I greet you all,
I'm currently travelling a lot
But I'll be checking on here once in a while
I Love you all*
Ovi Odiete
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
So many differing ideas
So many different interpretations
Of what is/ what isn't poetry
The oft industrial offerings
Of my nephew Sverre
The vivid but real contributions
Of Silversilkentoungue
So good but so misunderstood
Beryldov with his multitude of two liners
Sometimes brilliant sometimes crap
Yakov, word perfect
Classical, readable
Then the good old boys
Francie, Jack, SPT Stephen E Yokum
Harlon Rivers
So many names, so many great contributers
Not forgetting Quinfin
So much romance in his soul
All of you
From the youngest, newest
You are Hello poetry of today
And the future of OUR tomorrow
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
You see, the sky was made blue
Crafted and moulded by the hands of zeus
When he had heard of the devastating news
That people considered him a fiend
He questions ' so yeah I'm a little mean,
But mean is the new cool isn't it?'
Unaware of the implications of being mean,
He was despised from all that is green,
To all that roamed on the grass of green.
He repeats 'so I threw Hephaestus down
a mountain, it wasn't that wrong',
Justifying his villainous acts.
The sky was painted blue,
by the brutal heart that bled
the same hue as sadness.
You see, now Helios he was different,
He was the kind with a kind interest,
Fought for light and repelled darkness,
Because he knew that darkness
Would only stain the sky
More so than it already has been stained.
He says 'There's a light lit for everyone,
A world to share what have been won
For spoils are not meant to feed greed
but to show that even though things get hard
you will always undoubtedly succeed'.
He tells all the people
that 'they are beautiful',
'They are amazing',
and for those who could not see it,
he shone a light,
just so they could see their reflections
In their mirror.
He says 'you are all beautiful
And handsome,
So if I find you dancing,
Please wear a smile,
Because a smile,
Is one of humans brightest form
Of appreciation of the light
I wish you see inside yourselves'.
{So to Bailey}- you are beautiful.
{So to Eriko}- you are beautiful
{So to SPT} - you are beautiful
{So to Lorie} - you are beautiful.
{So to Nameless} - You are handsome
{So to Miss Iverson}- you are beautiful
{So to Carol} - you are beautiful
{So to princess} - you are beautiful
{So to all} - you are all beautiful & handsome.
Words from Helios,
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
The awsome SPT
She was kind to me
She is a beauty to everyone cant you see?
She's the awsome SPT
The great SPT
She is very good at poems
She is very great at being nice
She's the great SPT
I love her poems
They are great to me
She knows she is rich even if she was homeless she would be rich with loveliness
She is awsome to me
SHE IS THE GREAT AWSOME SPT
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Oct 2020
Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again.
Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again.
This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities.
Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly.
This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship.
Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices.
Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging.
Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words.
Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice.
Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration.
And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation.
Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant.
This is nothing short of miraculous.
Just like friendship.
All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable.
But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional:
All humans are poems.
All poems are human.
Solve this poem for human.
(And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
(my answer to her "Scar")
~
drawn to her and here
by mutual friend,
a not-so-neutral standerby,
i am undone by reading
her entreating,
questions haunting...
why?
i too will never understand
how scars can heal
how love divides.
the hurting, haunting
ever daunting
rage and hate inside,
it turns me
to an ever wanting
knowledge...
why?
the answer comes
in whispered winds,
in knowings deep within.
this mortal plain
does not remain;
this clock
will one day stop;
this heart will beat
this side no more;
these feet will
draw unto this chest,
when fleeting moments,
thought-filled words,
my last i love you's
whispered from my breast.
and then the realness,
truest journey starts
where all i take
is what i've made
and carry there
within this heart.
a redefining mission.
as i introspective, listen,
to my Creator whispering,
*"welcome to my new beginning!
you, i've waited long to hold;
'well done' on earth is not the end,
for she was just the womb.
this place, your home,
now birthed anew;
the journey now embarks.
i'm thrilled you packed
so carefully,
the treasures carried
in your heart."*
~
*post script.
more could be said, but why?
for we know the answer if
we listen to the whisperings within.
SPT, a gifted artist...
mostly because she asks
such beautiful,
soul-searching
questions!*
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1449901/scar/
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
This poem which was created by several poets, while abstract , a bit meandering, as any collaboration might become, has behind it a meaning.
My effort, my intent, was not to create a poem that bested Shakespeare, no. I with all my heart wanted to show that HP is for all of us. HP is for us to make a difference, if possible. It is possible.
Put away the transgressions the petty bickering, all.
We may have lost this battle, but we shall win the war.
Now, the poem:
Once Upon I, the warrior skeletal
the eternal darkness
descended
with cracked laughter echoing
serendipity exploding
and unfolding erase(s)
the expanse of nightfall,
those connected before
redemption,
rustic austerity
peace
for she
dreaming forlorn
liberated
by the sword
sine qua non
In order of contribution I would like to thank :
m i å, SPT,wehttam,Vicki,Harriet Tecumsah Watt,memineI,
Fallen Angel,Reshnia crimson,ryn,Jaxton Tyler Redmond
Sassy J,Eric W,SE Reimer,aivustianumus,lluvia de abril,
Steven Langhorst,Tonya Maria,Sjr1000,Emma Livry,
Aztec Warrior,Renae,brandon cory nagley,Dave Kavanagh,
Adhi Das,Alyssa Underwood,A Lopez,Heather Beth,
and Sapiotextual all for their contribution to the making of this poem
and to the betterment of our community.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
The sooner we have a published SPT poetry collection
Is the sooner I have more faith in this world
It's getting darker and darker
But I will not resort to being reticent
The best people don't hold back
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC