Thursday, June 30, 2011

Must Knows for New or Amateur Poetry Writers

As you learn to love poetry as a beginner, and then write as an amateur you soon or later discover that your love for writing might be something more. The feedback from your peers raises questions, should you publish? How do you go about getting noticed on a local, then a global stage? Is there money in it? If so, how much? As you may or may not know, there are thousands of scams out there concerning poetry, more specifically, your work. These sites or individuals tell you exactly what you want to hear, things like; "Your poetry is one of a kind", "You should look into publication" or "If you win this contest, your poetry will appear in a book", something along these lines. So, how do you know who to trust, that's if you could trust any of them. Honestly, I am not published, nor am I looking to publish my work, but I have been asked how to get it done. When I was younger, I also was interested in having my poetry published, so I did do some research; I'll discuss what I found out, pros and cons.

Firstly, if you're an amateur poet, just like I consider myself; you've probably asked, "If i post my work on the internet on a few forums, can someone take it and publish it?". In other words, steal your work. The answer is yes, but the likeliness is not, unless you write like an expert, and it's a born talent; if your work was to be taken for publishing, it would go through some drastic changes, basically, it would be re-written. Real critics are particular when it comes to literary works; it's like being graded on a school paper, did you ever get 100%? If you're just starting out with poetry, you probably just write it, without knowledge of style, form, flow, etc. It sounds like a poem, it is a poem, but it's not 'publication' worthy; grammar and punctuation corrections can probably be made (this is of course including my work, as I learn something almost everyday to improve the quality of my work).

Also, as a warning to everyone that posts in forums, if your work is stolen and you find out you can take legal action, but you will probably lose. The reason behind that is, yes, your work is copy-written when you post, BUT it is not registered under any published author. To win an infringement regarding your poetry, you must be a registered author, to become one is a daunting task on its own.

To become a registered author you must find a publishing company to submit your work to. DO NOT submit one or a few poems, or your work will be ignored. Think of it like an interview, you need to have a portfolio or 'anthology', which will be explained a little later. When submitting your work to these companies, make sure that the one you choose is a trust worthy one, with a good reputation. Searching on the internet will pull up thousands of sites that can promise to publish your work, some will ask for money to just look at your work, I wouldn't bother with these because most of them are scams just to get your money. You might even find sites that offer to proofread your work before your submission to an 'editor' for a small fee, it could sound something like "We only charge 40 cents a line, or 7 cents a word, or $9 per poem, which ever is cheaper for you". Sounds great and cheap doesn't it? Still, a scam, at least in most cases. I find that the best sites to submit your work to are the sites that don't ask for money at all, you still have to do your research, but at least you don't loose anything, at the most, they got your work.

When you have found the publication company that you would like to submit your work to, make sure to build an anthology; this is a collection of your work, make sure to break it down into themes as well, sad poems, darkness poems, spiritual poems, haiku, sonnet and so on and so forth. It does not have to be all of your work, but make sure to submit enough 'to quench their hunger', so to say. After submitting your work, you will probably find yourself waiting a few weeks maybe even months for a response; and when you finally receive that response, it probably won't be something you will like, you're declined. This maybe frustrating to you, but the things you should take away from it is that 1) you know your work can be improved (they will probably give you feed back as to why your work was not approved for publication and how it can be improved) 2)Before you get praise, you will always receive criticism (it's just how the world works) and 3) at least you were not scammed.

Although I am not looking to publish my work, I am always looking for legitimate criticism to get better, which should always be your first goal ("The day we stop learning, is the day we die" -Anonymous). If you or I get discovered for our work, this is the best way, it may be the long way to getting what you want, but it's also safer; not scam free, but safer.

Now that the publishing portion is out of the way, there are other 'MUST KNOWS' to poetry. Below is a list, and I will discuss each of them:

Rhythm and rhyming; Long and short poetry; Writing in cliches; Titles; Writers biography

Rhythm and rhyming

Typically, writers with an interest in poetry generally start off with a poem that rhymes. Although it seems to be the easiest to write, it can actually turn out to be very difficult; you must find words that rhyme with each other, but also don't stray away from the topic of the poem. Aside from that, the sound of the poem when read needs to have 'flow', in other words, it has to be smoothly read. The syllables in every line is important to help with the flow; for example, you wouldn't write a poem that has line syllables like - 10, 12, 8, 13. There would be no 'smoothness' therefore, it wouldn't sound appealing, no matter how good the topic. Poetry that has line syllables like - 8, 10, 8, 10, 9, 12, 9, 12 will usually get more recognition because it sounds smoother when read. When you get better with rhyme poetry, make sure to expand your talents to other styles, like haiku's or sonnets. Rhyming poetry is taken as outdated and naive, more for new or amateur poets.

Long and short poetry

Longer poetry usually does not have a long-lasting impression on its readers; mainly because its long (longer than a page). Also, for publishing purposes, shorter poems with smaller lines are more likely to be excepted. The most accepted length for poetry is about the length of a page; this leaves enough room to be descriptive and short enough to leave some sort of impression on the reader.

Writing in Cliches

Writing poetry in cliches is a common thing for new writers, money, love and death are said to be the most common topics of poetry. If you choose to write on these topics, it still needs to be original and extraordinary; if you think about it, it's actually a tough task. A way to make sure you are not 'caught' in these cliches, you can read poetry; you will be amazed at how many different things you can related to and write about. It will also widen your 'vocabulary' in poetry so your not re-using the same words in all your poetry.

Titles

The title is just as, if not more important as the poem itself; the title encourages the reader to read your poem, it needs to be 'eye-catching' and intriguing, but of course, still relevant to your work. Publishers say to stay away from one-word titles because it does not give much description of what will be read, unless it is truly a unique title. In other words, stay away from titles like - Friendship, Love, Hate, Death, etc. because they are too simple and spark no interest.

Writers biography

When submitting your work to an editor/publisher or even just a blog/forum on the internet, make sure that your bio is strong. Be descriptive, tell a story as to how you became a fan of poetry; what made you decide to write? Basically, the more information you give about yourself will help the reader understand why you write poetry, and the topics you choose to write about. It almost makes it seem like the reader has a better connection to you and your work.

Lastly, if you are searching for a publisher, or you just write as a hobby; don't forget the reason why you started writing in the first place. It's because you loved it, for whatever reason; poetry should be something that you enjoy to write or read before it becomes anything more.

This article and others can be found at Pomes

"There are millions of writers in this world, all in different languages, but only the one's that truly believe in what they are writing are worth reading."

- J a R -


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Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Little Boys In My Dream

My husband called, "Amour, breakfast is ready",
and my twins shouted, "Come on down mommy!"

"In a minute...'be there with you guys, would I may...?
Mom needs to look nice for you and feel gay!"

Early on, I went to the bathroom
I find it somewhat bigger as before
I thought, "Am I in the same room?"
Then my husband knocked on the door...

I found my husband, a bit uneasy, he kind-a-fret,
"My love I haven't had the time, the room's not prep..."
I looked around and smiled, "No need to be upset..."
"It's okay, I have everything covered now, you bet..."

I told him, we should take our breakfast first
Afterwards we'd take care on things we needed.
He left and had assured me his laughter burst.
I giggled back...so glad with the love mood I created.

At the back of my mind with some questions...
"Am I now at the present moment of my world?"
I closed my eyes to picture my past actions...
But I have got to move fast, I know TIME is gold!

I had wondered what else is there for me to see
If where I am now was a glimpse of tomorrow,
I sure feel excited to discover things with glee
I like what I am feeling... This is heaven I know...

I continued to check on the bathroom cabinet...
I smiled to see that all supplies I left were used.
I replaced them with new staff I used to set,
'though a bit changed... this bathroom now is huge!

I got on our dining table, I knew it was round
I tried to sit beside my husband but he said,
"Over there my love... opposite me, you sit down."
"Oh an oval-shape", I thought as he handed me the bread.

A great Chef as he is, he makes sure I would eat,
He'd always prepare a yummy and healthy breakfast.
In between us, our two boys sit, so comfy and neat...
I thought, "so these are my little boys?" Then I gasped.

I looked on these two beautiful little boys
They have their daddy's pointed nose...
I thought that it was like the fiction I wrote
I'd have two sons...in the story as it would quote...

I smiled, I knew I was only dreaming
I reached on the smaller one... I carried him.
While my other son had stopped eating,
He looked at me, "Mom, where have you been?"

Then my little boy in my arm, "Mom, I miss you so much!"
He is beau gosse like his dad, but a bit more tan.
I hugged him and said to both, "I love you two so much!
Mommy is here now, later, we'd all play under the sun..."

...I woke up... It was just a dream...
Two weeks from now I will travel
To be with my love. But I don't marvel
Because it's not just a whim...
'though it's amazing... kind of magical
To have a glimpse..."A life, I'd have with him..."

I have seen our two sons in my dream...
Wow! I wonder...Would I have them as twin?
So today, I got on-line and have told him
About these little boys in my dream...
Funny, my honey said, "You already have four...
Now, would you want another two more...?'

I choose to pour out the love I have to shine on everyone that I meet and inspire them with my writings and/or short stories of encouragement and enlightenment. We just only started. Journey with me and experience the joy of adventures of giving love unconditionally and enjoying the life we experience in this universe we live in. Your love for fun and for keeps...
Abeille Amore

A day in the life of Me...all my travels, adventures and all kinds of writings... You are all welcome. Feel free to follow me here: http://lovebytesonair.blogspot.com/
http://www.abeilleamore.com/


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Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Unstoppable Woman

SUCCESSFUL WOMEN...

Sweet creatures
Wonderfully made as decorative fixtures
Bright, bold and beautiful
Always serene, calm and resourceful
They are strong-willed, fearless and confident
They neither are careless, lazy nor disobedient
They are the successful women.
Always virtuous, victorious and highly- esteemed
Women who conquer
Yet have hearts aglow with love
They have dreams that are mostly realized
As pure as white lilies
Even in mud-like circumstances
They remain spotless...
Situations don't weigh them down
Because they have realized that she who kneels to God
Can stand up to anything/one...
So they believe strongly in their prayers, potentials and abilities
They enjoy the esteem of their wards,
The love of their men,
And the regard of all
They are the successful women
They are unstoppable and none can successfully delay them
They have total fulfillment at home and abroad
They are princesses of the Most High King
For they have had encounters with God
Their crown is the favour of God for comfort not for discomfort
They are chosen for purity of service,
For attraction not for distraction
They are known for friendships
They can build relationships
They know how to listen to that voice of Divinity
And yield to His will and call for their lives
They are good followers,
Great inventors and imitators
They sure dream big,
They have purpose, visions and raison d'etre
If you are dreamless, you are not in their world
They have a world full of opportunities
They sure make their presence felt and count anywhere they are.
To them age is not a barrier but numbers
Yes, numbers that can be overlooked
Though not ignored.
They love like God,
As soft as fur, as intelligent as the ant...
They are hardworking, efficient, effective and yet unassuming.
They are as flexible as a reed and as faithful as a lioness
They go beyond motherhood and yet remain unstoppable
They are fighters of good course,
Hardly give up on issues they deem fit
They are kind-hearted, trustworthy and reliable
They are honorable, charming and gallant
They are teachable, focused and wise,
They are wives, career women and mothers...
None of these aspects of their lives is wanting
They are their husband's best friends;
Their boss' confidante
And their children's idols
As contenders they fly
But as warriors they stand....
They are not afraid of their tomorrow,
For they have prepared for it.
They act as an house for their kids,
They are warm, sweet and graceful...
You can be one of them...
The successful women...
Yes the unstoppable women.

Agu, Jaachynma N.E is a successful, dynamic and prolific author. She writes poems, prose, articles, Newsletters and speeches. She is a graduate of French Linguistics from the Languages & Linguistics Department of the University of Jos, Plateau State, Nigeria. She is the author of the best-selling knowledge book: THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER published by Enaz publications New York. She is happily married to her heartthrob and best-friend: Dr. Ahamefula Agu and their union is blessed with two lovely boys: King and Edwald


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Monday, June 27, 2011

Cowboy Poetry - The Where, What, and Why

A cowboy poet, be it a he or she, generally proclaims a dramatic event with livestock experienced on a ranch in wide-open spaces. However, like cowboys themselves, their poetry style or content isn't hampered or fenced in by barbed wire and other constraints. It's usually strong in meter and rhyme following the style of Robert Service, one of the great poets of all time, but it can also be free verse or anything in-between.

Cowboys honed their poetry on the cattle trail from Texas north to Kansas and beyond. When you spend many hours in the saddle with just your horse and cows for conversation your thoughts tend to flow in verse. The erythematic movement of horses and cattle probably added to the rhyme and meter in their poetry. This was the birth of American Cowboy poetry, as we know it today.

The art of that spoken verse was flavored by a blend of British, Irish, Scotch, and Welsh crossed with Mexican, African, and Native American lingo. Even more nationalities melted into the mix during the gold rush. This language mix could have influenced cowboy's unique spelling style. As in, a creek is a crick, breeching is britchen, and even my teacher mother, raised in the Dakotas and Montana, couldn't stomach calling a bronc a bronco. That name was just too flowery for a tough, ornery horse.

However, "Spanish is the Lovin' Tongue" from which we acquired much of our cow talk as pointed out in Mike Logan's poem, of the same name, explains (excerpt below).

If Spanish is the lovin' tongue

It's also "talkin' cow."

The Mexican vaqueros

Is the ones that taught us how

To work the herd and what to call

The things we didn't know.

Their words flowed north plumb natural

From down in Mexico.

There are cowboy poems of love, lies, and hilarity as well as those of wrecks and heroism. Some poets write of true events and inspiration while others figure that sticking too close to the truth will spoil a good story. Most will also have stories of favorite horses, dogs, and old friends, but all have a deep feel for livestock or at least the country way of life.

Great storytellers have emerged while others are more introverts that just write down their emotions. Today scheduled gatherings all around the country host these poem presentations with a few still spewed around the campfire like days of old. We are thankful that the history of ranch life is passed down in this custom of brotherhood so our children will have an idea of how their ancestors lived. History books just don't tell it all. They miss the where, what, and why of Cowboy Poetry.

Cowboy poetry is the art of telling stories about events that happen in everyday ranch work. It is usually in a form that generally has strong meter and rhyme like the Robert Service poems.

Jo Lee T Riley has lived the life on many different ranches west of the Missouri River, in North Dakota, British Columbia, Alberta and Oregon. While cowboys of different regions use different equipment and handle some aspects of cattle work differently they all have a love of livestock and the land.

You can read some poems, check out some old time photos, and order cowboy poetry or Christian cowboy poetry books by Jo Lee T Riley at http://cowboypoetry.joleetriley.com/.


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Love Songs And Poems

YOU MAKE ME VERY HAPPY

You are my joy and my life
I've given you everything
Just for you my love

And how you make me very happy
Though I'm just a friend you see
But there's a time you've to be away
"Oh would you please stay?"

Just call my name
And I'll be there
And you make me glad
With you my dear

You are my love and only one
So please just stay by my side
for a while, my love...

WHY DON'T YOU COME ALONG AND SING WITH ME

Maybe I can be wrong
But it's you who I belong
I am singing you this song
Just for you to know me long

So why don't you come along
And sing with me tonight, Oh baby...
Come along and sing with me!

You see it in my eyes
The love that reflects in me

Though you have doubts in mind
But darling there were no lies...

YOU MADE ME FEEL YOUR LOVE

I need you close to me
I want you to hold me
Its you who I want to be
So please stand by me

I need your arms around me
I love you more each day
Its you who I want to be
So please stand by me

You made me feel your love
Don't make me wait for love
This time, my love...

YOU HAVE TOUCHED MY LIFE

Mmmm everything that you do to me
Oh babe I could sing you a song
You made my life so beautifully
And I have no more to ask

Because every time I see your face, babe
I could shout with joy
You have touched my life

Mmmm no one else I would love this way
'Cause babe, you alone who i love
You gave your love so endlessly
And I have no more to ask

Because every time you touch my face babe
I could hear a song
You have touched my life

And every time you're near me baby
My heart beats a song...
You have touched my life!

I DO LOVE YOU

I love you

And in so many ways

I show

I care for you

Without a word

I know

You do love me too

And I feel it so...

I can hear it in your laughter

I know

It's you I love

I can see it in your eyes...

When you are near
I feel you all the while
With your touch
With your kisses
And just everything
You do to me...

I do love you!

MY SWEET VINCOU

When you do needed me
I'll always be there
When you do needed me
I am always there

When you do want me
I am there
When you do want to love me
I'll be there to give you
All my love

I'll give you all the joy
I'll sing to you my love song
As sweet as you want it to be
Oh my love
Mmmm my sweet Vincou

Oh darling, I love you so
My sweet Vincou

I love you babe
And you knew...

I choose to pour out the love I have to shine on everyone that I meet and inspire them with my writings and/or short stories of encouragement and enlightenment. We just only started. Journey with me and experience the joy of adventures of giving love unconditionally and enjoying the life we experience in this universe we live in.
Your love for fun and for keeps...
Tiffanie King

A day in the life of Me...all my travels, adventures and all kinds of writings... You are all welcome. Feel free to follow me here: http://raffleberry.weebly.com/
http://lovebytesonair.blogspot.com/


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Black and White

BLACK AND WHITE

A white bird is flying at day,
Or a black bird is flying at night,
Or a black bird is flying at day,
Or a white bird is flying at night,
Black and white, black over white.
Oh, my Lord, how painful can be
This need of touch in his absence.
White and black, white over black,
Oh, my Lord, how painful can be
This absence of his touch.
Black is penetrating white
And white is penetrating black,
Never finding the gray.

BLUE MIRROR

Multiplied blue mirror
Of self,
Revealing the freedom
Of non-self
In its metamorphosis,
Is attaining Nibbna....

BLUE MOVEMENT

I can see my blue reflection
In your eyes
And I can feel the blue movement
Of our fecundity
Inside,
While it is raining outside
With blue drops of tears,
Those tears coming from God,
When He is crying
So very blue,
Staying in His bed of sadness...

DANCE OF LOVE

When I look into your eyes I can see myself,
Our relationship seems to be indestructible.
I give myself to you and I become a part of you
And there's nothing around here to me that matters.

We are together and explore our universe in unity
Because together we can really make it happen.
You're just everything to me, we are one being,
I cannot imagine the earth without you.

When you make love with me I become another being,
You take everything from me and you give me everything,
You take one from each other the meaning of self
We love each other so much, we feel like exploding.

It is a connection between our hearts, our souls and bodies
We dance our laughter, all our tears, we dance our madness.
Two to one heart, two to one soul, dancing in rhythm with stars,
Dance is deeper, more intricately intertwined, the impetus of our passion

In ecstatic moments and rumbles of our minds and our souls,
We swallow each other, more deep and deep more, it is madness.
We understand the naturally flowing rhythm of our existence,
We kiss with hate and love every part of our molecular structure.

We understand each other and the language of our bodies,
I can not stay without you very long or live without you,
Especially at night, when you love me and get me in trance.
We are two souls dancing the love dance in the same body.


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Freedom, A Poetic Expression of History and Symbolism

Freedom, defined as the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint. Thomas Jefferson's Declaration of Independence is a writ of grievance against the King of England, declaring, "That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown." From this historic document, freedom has become synonymous with liberty, patriotism, and all symbols representative of each. This article includes poetry of how I envision the feelings of the founding fathers in their passion for the creation of a constitutional government and my concept of freedom as expressed through writing and symbolization.

I start with my vision of Jefferson as he toiled at his task of writing what I believe is the most important document defining America.

Declaration Of Independence

Alone in the night, gazing at the beauty of a celestial masterpiece
yet untouched by the cover of cloud
an unrelenting silence is interrupted by the insistent ticking
of an old grandfather clock in the parlor,
a candle with a dual wick rests on a table made of knotty pine
roughly chiseled to add a rustic touch
accentuates a floor of polished oak,
providing my only light

I sit watching shadows flickering across plaster walls
mimicing eerie phantoms
slithering throughout the room
refusing to take recognizable shape,
cause unwanted distraction

The work before me suffers,
in stark contrast pitifully begs text be laid
to cover the nudity of the page before me

The accomplishments of my life pale in contrast
what keeps me awake this night,
the plight of a nation will rest on the passion of my words,
my friends and patriots rely on a text that will take them
from anarchy to democracy

Shadows appearing to take shape play tricks upon my vision,
reveal a sight resembling a picture of a united
uniformly defined crowd
cheering and waving as one voice,
one sound

Suddenly it becomes clear,
the page before me fills with pronouncement,
my chest swells with pride,
what is written this night becomes page after page,
until,
finally,
to carry a nation desiring riddance,
a Declaration Of Independence

The original draft of the Declaration was written by Thomas Jefferson from 11 June 1776 to 28 June 1776. It was finalized and approved by the Congress and printed on the evening of July 4th. The original document was signed by only John Hancock as President of the Congress and Charles Thompson, as the Secretary of the Congress. Other signatories were added beginning in August and were not completed for several months.

John Hancock, waited in Congress for Thomas Jefferson to present his initial draft of The Declaration of Independence. Heat is a poem that describes what he must have felt in signing a document that made him a traitor and a patriot simultaneously.

Heat

It is hot! The air above me suffocates, lacking breeze.
This July eve, the heat affects me most.
Tomorrow, I will end one affiliation and begin anew.

The future causes my brow to arch, the heat adding to my discomfort.
This house, my home is large and strong, but may not survive the coming storm.
All before me, I must be willing to cede as a consequence of this nights decisions.
I feel the heat began to crescendo into a firestorm.

I envision myself appearing at the very gates of Hell.
I finish my dress and put on my coat realizing, soon, this will be my home no longer.
I will be branded a traitor in my native country, a patriot in my new.

As I sit in the Congress, I am alone if not for Jefferson and my Congressional Secretary.
The document prepared by Jefferson beckons my signature.
I am overcome with emotion as I, John Hancock, President of the Congress,
slowly, in large bold script, sign The Declaration of Independence.

As I return to my home, I realize this heat will not go away for a long time.
I return to say goodbye.

I wrote Freedom and FREEDOM as a statement of current events and the impact of the growing rift in the political and social structure of America. Although from different eras, both reflect the same basic virtues and beliefs.

Freedom

Its foundation built on sacrifice
maintained by the strength of belief
wounded by separatism
healed by patriotism
destroyed by disunion

and,

FREEDOM

Fought on bitter fields tainted red
Revolution quells garroted oppression
Emport-moi the cry
Engagement protects treasured belief
Declaration defines a people
Oration warns tread not on me
Muskets herald the voice of freedom

The American Flag is the most recognizable symbol in the world. Anyone, in any country, who sees Americas' flag immediately knows what it represents. This poem reflects my belief that it is more than just a symbol.

The American Flag, It Is You

A symbol of respect, pride, and strength,
not to be ruffled, wadded, or soiled,
to be folded, unfurled, raised for all to see,
as in going into battle resounding victory.

Not to be tattered, torn, or burned in effigy,
rather a symbol of hope to those in bondage,
of hate for those who seek to enslave,
of patriotism to those who guard fiercely,
enshrined with those who died for liberty,
entrusted to each generation to decide its fate,
to be the most loved or most hated,
to be seen in every city, state, and on foreign soil,
wherever seen America is found.

No other symbol rises above or would be allowed,
representing freedom, recognized the world round,
a powerful adversary to an enemy
a gentle giant to those who are represented.

A symbol of red and white,
with fifty shining stars on a field of blue,
call it a flag,
in reality it is you.

In conclusion,

American Flags

American flags,
the right to destroy is yours;
as is your freedom.

Poetry is an association of words placed into structure, weaving majesty and brilliance to create text. History and the symbols that represent history have long been expressed poetically. I find poetry a novel of verse lacking the novels long narrative, yet providing the same wonderfully exciting experience of wonder and fulfillment.

No matter what you write, someone will love it.

For more poetry and information please visit: http://allpoetry.com/mac_mcgovern


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You're The Number One

You're the only one
You're the only woman I love
Your eyes reflect the beauty of our mutual dreams being fulfilled
Together, we are nothing more or less than one flesh in a marriage for a More Perfect Union

Children's Chorus

They are the greatest two true lovers of all times
he loves her unconditionally
she rejoices in his warmth arms and love him back
Together they make a better world putting God first
Their motto is IN GOD WE TRUST

You're my true love
You're my American Dream realized in the city of Los Angeles
Your hands cannot be detached from mine as we walk in Downtown LA
Together, we are making Los Angeles The Most Romantic City in the world. Watch out Paris, France because French Love is being replaced with A More Perfect Union Romance of Jose & America.

Children's Chorus

They are the greatest two true lovers of all times
He loves her unconditionally
She rejoices in his warmth arms and love him back
Together they make a better world putting God first
Their motto is IN GOD WE TRUST

You're the most beautiful woman in the world
You're always next to me
Your kisses satisfy me all night long
Together, we are bringing into the world beautiful children to fulfill our Nation's Promise of Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness for the entire world.

Children's Chorus

They are the greatest two true lovers of all times
He loves her unconditionally
She rejoices in his warmth arms and love him back
Together they make a better world putting God first
Their motto is IN GOD WE TRUST

Orchestra Band with Tenor Voice

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

You're my air I breathe
You're my heart of Freedom
Your voice is as sweet as you taste in our romantic nights of Honeymoon in Hawaii
Together, we are making love everyday and every night until the morning come.

Voice of Their First Child In The Background

THE TWO GREATEST TRUE LOVERS OF ALL TIMES.

Jose Angel Manaiza, Jr. is a Mathematician


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The Vacation

I lay my lazy head on a soft, striped towel.
Squiggling my body back and forth to make an indentation to fit my contour.
At last, just right.
I am settled, I close my eyes and take in the sounds of muted music, children squealing and adults scolding. The smells assault my nose, picnic lunches, salt air, and cigarette smoke blowing in every direction.
My vacation begins.

Soon, I am covered in a glistening coating of sweat mixed with oils.
I roll over, again shifting on my towel to change the contour.
Ah, just right, I settle, letting the smells ans sounds take me once again.
But the sun, his purpose well done, has once again interrupted my lazy dream.
I sit and scowl.

I must arise and leave my sandy cast, trudge my lazy body to the edge,
flinging minute particles with every step.
I test the water's edge, the contrast in temperature is so great I am tempt to change my mind.
But the sun urges me on, so on I go.
Waist deep, the air is sucked from my lungs. The cold is overpowering.
I turn toward the shoreline, eager to fill my lungs with warm air.
I didn't look back.

The cold from behind engulfed me, like an icy bear hug.
And like teens playing in the water, pushed my head down under into the churn.
I was like a pebble in a whirlpool. Down to the bottom, scraping sand and broken shells.
Foam, sand, twirling around me, throwing me as one in a spin cycle.
I could not tell bottom from top. The salt was stinging places where the scraping had been.
Do I fight?

I could go limp and let this great icy bear have its way,
or I could fight my way out of his grip. But where do I go?
I am neither up nor down. Perhaps I should go sideways.
I have only a moment of air left in my aching lungs.
Decide, decide.

You silly fool, I think. Your eyes are closed.
How can you tell where you are? Open them to the stinging of the salt water
and rise to the surface.
My eyes, against my will, open to the frothy mixture holding me tight.
There!, There is a light, the sun, the same sun who drove me to this
watery tumble. I reach for it, I long for it. That sun, who in his relentless duty,
Lit my way home.


View the original article here

This Drink

Sipping on this drink,
I don't want to be sober
cause this thing that we had seems officially over
how'd I let a good thing become so bitter
how'd I let my feelings stop being self centered
one day it was all about me my life and what I planned to be
the next day I woke up and all I could remember was you
but I guess the feelings I had evaporated or were never true
As I sip I reminisce on the good and bad times we had
the tears I shed through confusion of love and tears from laughs
So I question is it worth it, is he worth it, could it last
I added it all up in my head but I guess I'm no good at math
because the last thing I pictured was us now married with a yatch
both of us making money old regrets I've forgot
Sometimes you've got to go through the bad to get to the good
now look at where it's got us drop top benz with no hood

My friends used to tell me I shouldn't do it,
"Girl just leave him alone"
now they claim that they knew it and they were there all along
I had a few who had faith, who kept my feelings safe
they kept me positive and for those ones I thank
even family put him down family cookouts I couldn't bring him around
cause if I brought him in I'm bound to run away from the sound
arguing and fighting the hatred wouldn't end
but now they see us doing good they type emails and press send
saying how much they miss us and hope we're doing good
I cut off all the phones and bought a manchine surrounded by woods

Now who can stop us our relationship unbruised
all past emotions were set aside and bejewled
covered up with diamonds couldn't let the past stop our show
because if you hold on to your negatives then you will never be able to grow
now that we've found in our life what we truly need
our future and present is on ease and we just continue to succeed

So who knew that bottle of Patron could do all it has done
ejaculated my emotions and filled my life with fun
if I had never drunk and told him my fears
showed him my tears, held on to his hand and told him I'd always be here
I don't know where we would be today and I'm glad God knew exactly where to steer
he brought us this life we even produced a gift
our son who's almost one that I love, this life is like a movie I hope we don't drift
never move apart because baby you'll forever be my heart
your my number one you've been with me from the start.


View the original article here

When A Woman Would Love A Man

YOU ARE THE ONE

It just like a while, I met you
A single glance at your face,
A simple smile you graced
I knew the One is you...

Yes, you are the One

The One my heart looks for
The One who will give me
The happiness, the loveliness,
The sweetness in my life...

You are the One of all I dream of
With you all of my wishes come true...
Because of you I feel true love

I love you with all that you are,
With all that I am and with all
that you want me to be...

You are the One!

YOU ARE MY MAN

Your worth is not for who you are,
Not even for what you have,
But for what God has made of you
And for what I have become loving you

You are all my happy thoughts
You inspire me
You spice up my life
You put smile on my face
You stir up the All of Me

You make me dance
when your mood flows like the sea
You make me sing
when your mood glows like the moon
You bring comfort in my heart
You give me air to breathe

Because of you

I have come to realize of all
that I was meant to be and do
You are my man
I keep you until the end of time.

LOVE IS OUR CORD

Sometimes I feel fear
To think you are not near
But to hold you dear
Make my world shine and clear.

I know you love me,
More than I'll ever know
But wouldn't that be
For lasting as we grow?

As time goes by
I know I'll be with you,
My love will not die
I will assure you.

But love, don't blame me
If I asked much of you
I need you with me,
A year is long to go...

We've so much to ask,
Why do we feel this way?
Can we pass the task?
Or just do what our hearts say?

There are so many ways
We've shown our sincere love
And I hope God's grace
Would shine us from above...

And trusting your word
Would be the key to all
So Love Is Our Cord
Let's go then my love
And have Our Grand Ball!

FOR GOOD TIMES...

The day you have made me your woman
Was the time I had you...
You gave me your love as a man
And I gave mine to you...

There was a moment of silence
And a moment of fear
But with the joy of your presence
I couldn't bear to be near...

We held each other arms for long,
Staring and caring,
Until we could hear our own song
As we danced while glancing.

Now that I gave you my heart
And had gave me yours,
Would this make us never be part
For good times nor for worse?

HAVING YOUR LOVE

Seeing your glance
With those beautiful eyes and sweet smile
Is like being lifted by air...

Feeling the warmth of your breath
When you're near me
And hearing the sounds of your heart beat...
Ah, I know it's you.

And as your lips search mine
With those strong hands
Caressing me passionately
Ah, I sure tremble and shiver with gladness...

Having your body close to me
Feeling your weight presses hard to mine
Ah, it's sure feel like I am in heaven...

I couldn't wait to hold you closer
Wanting you so much to have me in your arm
Saying to you over and over...
I love you, I love you, Oh God, yes! I love you!

Later waking up with you
Wrapping my arms around you
Assuring your love for me is forever
Oh darling, I believe you...

Giving you my sweetest smile
Hugging you more closer now
Kissing you much stronger
Looking at me dearly and

Having your love...

A day in the life of Me...all my travels, adventures and all kinds of writings...
You are all welcome. Feel free to follow me here:
http://raffleberry.weebly.com/
http://lovebytesonair.blogspot.com/


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Yet I Am Thirsty and Others

"But Let There Be"

I want some darkness
To hide
My compulsions
But let there be
Some light too
And of my canvas
Let it be dull
But let it be
Somewhat bright too
Some sorrows
I can handle
With calm
But let there be
In my life
Some delight too
My tears may
Extinguish the flames
But let them
Sometimes
Ignite too
Let there be
Brightness of the day
But let there be
Darkness of the
Night too

"Yet I Am Thirsty"

The ocean
Of my tears
Is so near
Yet I am
Thirsty
The mile stone
Heralding the
Proximity
To my destination
Is in
Close vicinity
Yet I am
A nomadic
And existence
Offers me
With
Ingenuousness
Yet I am
Skeptic
Some times
I wonder
If I will stay
For a while
Or simply
Wither away
Into oblivion
And will
Never be able to
Revisit
All the things
Those were
Once upon a time
Entirely mine
My breathing space
And my moment
In time
Epitome
Of my being
Bearing
The testimony of
My joy
My sorrows
My tavern
And my shrine

"Often Seen Is"

Using acronym
For names
And with
Still missing
Addendum
Displaying claims
To his fame
While
Moving from conformist
To a maverick
And denying
The very existence of
Ecstasy and hope
Amidst
Transient delight
Often seen is
The man
Carrying
The weight of
His own idealism

"Me And Myself"

I do take
Cognizance of
My follies
And inabilities
But then
I pardon
Myself
Willfully
And liberally
After all
It's between
Me and myself
But some times
I am very
Unforgiving
Towards my self
After all
It's between
Me and myself

"The Caricature Of My Desire"

Whenever
I draw
The caricature
Of my own desire
It frowns at me
And cries
Mostly treading
The path of
Disillusionment
And with intentions
So flagrant
Carrying the weight of
It's own identity
So rigid
And fragile
And I have
Often found it
Submerged in
The chimera
Of it's own satire
And so often
Have found it
Trying to stand erect
On a quagmire
It has a face
So full of scars
And with
Been there
Seen all attitude
It derides me
With a plea
To erase it
A bit
Each day

"Dedicated To Good Friday"
If you were to sing
Sing as if
It was
Your Swan Song
Draw to a close
Today
And never prolong
Live as if
It is
Your last day
Eat as if
It is
Your last meal
And deal as if
It is
Your last deal
Be bold
And behold
Then
My dear friends
You will have
No compunction
In the future
That awaits
It may be
A bright sunny morning
Or it may be
A cloudy day
But pray
And just pray
For you are
Still here
While good shepherd is
Taking good care
Of you
And of every thing
Around you
The invisible hands
Of Good Samaritan
Are always raised
To bless you
And to consecrate

"There Will Always be"

There is always
And there will
Always be
This little difference
Between you and me
No matter
How far away
We may stray
While
Thriving on souvenirs
From the past
And first glorifying
Then ignoring
The agony within
And lustfully
Editing our memoirs.
There was always
This difference
When once
You said
Love it by you
And then you said
I simply love you
Now I can
Afford to ignore
This little difference
And it makes sense
For there is
More of you
That I still
Want to know
How was it
When you smiled
For the first time
Through your eyes
How did it feel
When
You cried in rhythm
Tasting the tears
Of your own repentance
While hiding your face
With both the hands
Even though knowing
You are no naive
Though so often
You called me
A coward
Are you
Really brave?
There is always
And there will
Always be
This little difference
Between you and me

"Do They Still Ask you-?"

Away from me
And may be
At some
Distant place
Do they
Still ask you
With a glee
Oh! Baby
What is it
Between you
And me
Do they
Still ask you
Is he an enigma
Or a real fake
Acting like a clown
And some times
Like a saint
Do they
Still ask you
You love him
Or he loves you
Or you both
Partake
Or is it
All one sided
Your heart
Or his heart
Nothing is
At stake
Do they
Still ask you
Who initiated it
And who will end
Do they still say it
With a face
Bearing grin
That by knowing him
You committed
An unpardonable sin
But will you still
Go ahead
And proudly
Hold his hand
And tell it all
That while
Revisiting your
Tender wounds
You found
Someone
Healing your wounds
With his
Magical touch
To know who
He was
Chances were grim
But
My heart told me
Instantly that
It was him
And it was him


View the original article here

The Seasons Of Love With My Love

SPRING OF LOVE

My partner and I fell in love on spring
We cannot imagine together not loving or laughing
That thought, we'll be happy forever, what a feeling
To me Falling in love is like spring

It is a magical moment
Spring time, a lavender-scent

We kiss and all just click
Everything seems perfect

Love seems full and eternally
We work together effortlessly

We dance together in harmony
Our good fortune in matrimony

SUMMER OF LOVE

Throughout the summer of our love I realize
My partner is not as perfect I should not criticize

Not only is my love different from my thought,
Or he is flawed in some way herein I draught

But he also, the man who makes mistakes
So I must work on our relationship as it takes

It is easier to give love and get the love I need
But now I do not always feel the love grass seed

It is not my image of love that I thought should be
Because I discover that we are not always happy

The frustration and disappointment arise
Weeds must be uprooted at this time with guides

My plants need extra watering under the hot sun
Then my fear of losing hope will soon be gone

'cause it's not spring all the time, I must understand
It sure would take a hard work under a hot sun

I must realize that love is not always easy
So I don't blame him, and I won't gave up easily

Instead...

I need to feed his needs in the summer of love
I would ask him sweetly I too need his care and love

AUTUMN OF LOVE

The result of my gardening during summer is heaven
I get to reap the fruits of my precious hard work given

Surely fall is here...yes I see it is coming
A glorious golden age- rich and truly fulfilling

I experience a more mature love with my partner
After working hard during those times in summer

I accept now and understand both of our shortcomings
And now... it is time for thanksgiving and sharing

Me and my love can now relax, have fun and get excited
We will both enjoy the great love we have just created.

WINTER OF LOVE

Winter arrives when the weather changes
It is cold, all of nature itself recoils
And so does all of my painful feeling emerges
This month of winter really all, it annoys

It is when my lid comes aloof
Where I experience my own unresolved pain
Or my very own shadow fear proof
While I'm aware that he himself feel isn't sane

But this is the time of rest and reflection
A moment needed for relationship restoration

Winter of love is the time for my cell growth
When I look more to myself in retrospect
And where I ask more of his love and respect
Which I understand these things we need both

It's the time to let my love hibernate in his cave
While in the well I fall to manage my own wave

After this time of rejuvenation and healing
By the dark and freezing winter of love
Naturally I wait for the return of spring
Once again I am blessed with my love

Yes the feeling of hope, love, and abundance of possibilities, here
My basis of my inner healing and soul-searching soon would clear
For during my winter trip and adventure with the one I love
Again I'd be able to open my heart to feel with him the spring of love...

I choose to pour out the love I have to shine on everyone that I meet and inspire them with my writings and/or short stories of encouragement and enlightenment. We just only started. Journey with me and experience the joy of adventures of giving love unconditionally and enjoying the life we experience in this universe we live in.
Your love for fun and for keeps...
Abeille Amore

A day in the life of Me...all my travels, adventures and all kinds of writings... You are all welcome. Feel free to follow me here: http://lovebytesonair.blogspot.com/
http://www.abeilleamore.com/


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Visions Of Angela Gheorghiu And Other Poems

Visions Of Angela Gheorghiu

Some poetic phrases regarding the lovely visions of motion which Angela Gheorghiu be on to my eyes.

Ay visions of Angela
be effortless smile with eyes a dark
ruby lips demonstrate boundless joy
as with enthusiasm of child she gazes

Ay visions of Angela
be of grand lady's sensuality
needing nay escort on to carnality
yet be of charm as to entice adoration
thus being how emotions deliver
on to my Angela all which I hold dear

Ay visions of Angela
enjoying repast with grace
raising fork upon tender orifice
or flute of bodily crimson grapes
to lips in cheers of luscious nip

Ay visions of Angela
be ever ornate as she in bravado
remove satin of cover to rose
with care of damsel in act of beauty
pure elegant sensuality in dignity
of grand diva

Ay visions of Angela
stamped in canvas of time and space
delicate deity of femininity
provide symphony on to my sight
as simple movement enchant
peeling silk a black from pale wings
all in charm she bewitch the night

Ay visions of Angela
in slumber of peace she lye
devilish smirk to cherish
coquetry my adulation feeds
for female divine

Ay Angela be ever sophisticated
motions of elegance whilst the most minute
paints delight in air

Angela Gheorghiu's Ride In The Clouds

A poem about the way I see it would be like to be Angela Gheorghiu's lover.

How I sleep at night
uncovered is delight
of my Angela
muscles on display
for my Angela to caress
in hours of slumber
my Angela descend
loving attentions of embrace
wings of silks in shades of beauty

How I sleep at night
visions of Angela
glorious mane as night
homage stars of twilight
Angela with eyes a playful
enchant as ruby lips depict
joy of one ever so tender
on to fantasies of flight

How I awaken
Angela descends with rose a crimson
commence ride of night on cloud to drift
about as on wind of storm
My Angela gliding on white delicacy of sky
whilst thunder thrives
My Angela's nails driving desires
on to my flesh
My Angela inhaling root of passions
all in lustful rage of deity

How I sleep whilst dreams of Angela
prance as pictures of splendor
gazing upon lady of ecstasy
my Angela force divine of Asgard
in adoration of flesh

When I Cried (Dedicated To Angela Gheorghiu)

A poem about making love with tears.

When I cried
desire came in tears
down in despair
all my fears

When I cried
about was emptiness
mine was loneliness
thine warmth lacked shyness

When I cried
clothes we shed
breasts you caressed
kisses my body covered

When I cried
my rose moistened
root of thee ventured
on to desire of my garden

When I cried
wings of mine elevated
acts of passion we created
bodies in lust elated
made we love enchanted
did we when I cried

The Force Of Tranquility

A poem dedicated to the forces of nature which provide us with the tranquility most of us at one point or another crave for in our lives.

The force of tranquility
is the beauty of nature
in the sculpture of a tree
reaching faithfully to infinity

The force of tranquility
gliding in the wind
about the world with originality
inspiration moving passive clouds
along with initiative in mentality

The force of tranquility
in the call of creature tender
of delicacy to harmonies render
in symphony on to emotions

The force of tranquility
lye in spirit of humanity
romantic delight in treasures
artistic ideas enchant pleasures
lovely soul of sensibility
encounters tranquility

My name is Gianni Truvianni, author of many an article to be found on the internet along with the book "New York's Opera Society". My works also include the books "What Should Not Matter", "Love Your Sister" and several others which still remain unpublished though I am presently looking to change this.


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Ode to Handheld Metal Detectors

If you are a promoter that is planning on holding an event where there will be any number of people attending you may want to strongly consider implementing the use of one or more (depending on the size of the event) handheld metal detectors. Metal detectors provide an effective, yet cost-effective, means of protecting the people in attendance. My love for these instruments is so great that I have written another poem to express this love and so I present to you...

Ode to Handheld Metal Detectors, A Poem by Carl Vouer

I love a good concert and also a show,
Where there are big crowds I will likely go.

I am a people person and of this there is no doubt,
I love to party, let loose, to scream and to shout.

My only concern when at a concert is this,
That nobody gets in without a stamp on their wrist.

This stamp will confirm that a security check has been run,
And nobody is sneaking in with a knife or a gun.

I love partying all night at a club that is hot,
But would much rather do so without being shot.

I would much rather spend the night engulfed in dance,
Than bleeding profusely in the back of an ambulance.

It's just so enjoyable when you have the peace of mind,
Knowing nobody in attendance is going to commit a crime.

For a promoter to ignore this most basic of needs,
Would be a critical oversight or one of much greed.

A promoter should consider security the utmost importance,
Especially to stay in most state law accordance.

A great thing about handheld metal detectors is that they come cheap,
Keep your attendees safe from harm and at night you can sleep.

Knowing you did your part to be a good host,
And not a cheap scumbag, but someone we should toast.

Most handheld detectors need no player hating,
As they are so easy to use as they are self-calibrating.

Their ultra-sensitivity makes them impossible to fool,
For attendees that come to straight act a fool.

They can detect a handgun from almost a foot,
So you can weed out a catastrophe at its root.

Whether the concert is for Donny Osmond or Slayer,
Your guests safety wont hinge on a wing and a prayer.

So do the right thing and get this handheld device,
Or something will happen and it wont be nice.

Someone may be hiding a gun or knife in their shoe,
But they'll never get in and guests can thank you.

Stay Safe,

Carl Vouer


View the original article here

On Defining Poetry

When I was a teenager, I lived in a little cockroach infested drug hovel in Seattle. The tenants were impoverished and violent, but the night manager was one of the kindest and wisest mentors I've ever known. His name was Jim. Jim had a bushy white beard, big red cheeks, long hair, and thick glasses. He resembled an elderly Jerry Garcia. Jim spent most of his time laying around in bed watching television or reading, but from time to time he would come out of his room to cook delicious dinners for the tenants in the building's only kitchen.

Jim was very bright. He loved intellectual conversation, which may be the reason he took an interest in me. I was quite ignorant, but I enjoyed discussing subjects that many of the people in Jim's life couldn't or didn't. Jim gave me my first copies of Plato, Aristotle, and Rousseau. He also gave me some of my earliest lessons in poetry. I lacked experience in reading poetry at that time, so I can't really say now how good Jim really was, but I do remember that I had a very hard time understanding most of the poems he let me look at.

Jim gave me a definition of poetry that has always remained with me. He said, "Poetry is the art of cramming as much meaning into as few words as possible." At the time, this definition meant very little to me, but over the years, as I've read and written poems, I've pondered it, and I believe it is a good critical standard for judging both poetry and prose. I feel it falls short of defining poetry. Definitions should encompass all particular examples of the thing to be defined in one general statement. Jim only gave a particular example of a rule a poet might impose on himself.

Poetry is any writing that deliberately obeys rules other than the rules of prose. Prose does not require rhyme, meter, a certain number of syllables, a certain order of accents, or a specific pattern. Poetry may require none, some, or all of the examples I just listed. A poet may impose haphazardness on himself. He I may I require I that I every I other I word I must I be I. I included the word 'deliberately' in the definition to exclude writing done according to rules which the author mistakes as the rules of prose.

My definition may be accused of being too general. What about the rules of text messaging? What about the 140 character requirement of tweets? Are texts and tweets to be considered poetry? I acknowledge this problem, as well as some others, but I wonder if accepting tweets and texts as poetry would be a minor evil when one considers that the definition I offer comes about as close as possible to including such disparate works as The Narrow Road to the Deep North, The Canterbury Tales, Paradise Lost, The Waste Land, r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r, and I Used to Love H.E.R.

I'll close this post with a poem. It obeys the 17 syllable rule of Haiku. It attempts to cram ideas taken from the fourth book of Virgil's Georgics, the story of Jacob and Esau, some passages from Bertrand Russell's The History of Western Philosophy, and the usual themes of my poetry into as few words as possible. I hope you enjoy it.

I turn Orphic eyes
Upon a mess of pottage--
Eurydice lost!


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The Heart of A Woman: Xiomara Manaiza

The heart of a woman
It is filled of love
In you, the world lives

Give me love
Take me to your heart
It is the only place, I feel at peace

Your smile brings joy
I can see your pure love
You live to give life through your womb

We are here on Earth because of you
Life is what it is
Without you, there is no life

My existence is because of my mother
Our beingness came from a woman
Whether we accept it or not, it is an undebatable fact

ORCHESTRA WITH FEMALE VOICES ON THE BACKGROUND

The heart of a woman
It is the greatest gift on Earth
From the leadership of the Victorian Age all the way to the rise of Women's Rights
From the essence of Queen Elizabeth I to the courage of Rosa Parks, Mother of The Modern Civil Rights of Movement
Women are still the designers of a just world for everyone.

The heart of a woman
It is life's best creation
From the faith of Mother Theresa to the beauty of Princess Diana
From the boldness of Victoria Woodhull to the eminence of Hillary Clinton
Women ought to be honored and sooner than later even in the United States of America will be governed by a Madam President VERY, VERY, VERY SOON in the 21st Century to create a More Perfect Union for all.

The heart of a woman
It is the humblest expression of God
From the leadership of Harriet Tubman through The Underground Railroad all the way to the voice of authenticity of Oprah Winfrey
From the rise of Voting Rights of 1965 all the way to the global leadership of women even in the White House by Michelle Obama
Women are the ones that shape an ideal society under the kindness and love of God

RECITATIONS

Your words are medicine to my soul
In you, there is only tenderness
You are my mother, my aunt, my grandmother, daughter, and wife

You are everything a man wants
Your vulnerability makes you stronger
Your sensibility defines your power

You are me
I am you
Without you, there is no life

I feel your hurts
When your heart is broken
Let our pain be healed by God

You're not alone
In your loneliness, you have company
Open, your heart my woman to see the glory of God inside you

THIS POEM IS DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER MOTHER, XIOMARA MANAIZA

Jose Angel Manaiza, Jr. is a Mathematician


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Poems About Faith

OUR LOVE

Our love is pure
Beyond our human horizon
And outside of time.
Our being becomes profound
And instantly expanded in the blissful infinite.
We begin to feel the deification of our souls
Because The Lord is infinite love.
We are a part of Him
Because we are His creation.
He is a part of us
Because the Holy Spirit is
A part of our mind and our spirit.
He gives us the gift of freedom.
We give Him our freedom.
It is the only way to complement Him.
We give Him our indelibly unique beliefs
And we extrapolate this awareness to our souls
We extrapolate our souls to the universe
And we extrapolate the universe to Him.
Our love becomes
A resurgence of self-esteem, a self-resurgence.

PROPHECY

Don't lose your own hope at sixty.
You'll reach your next nice destiny.
One thing you'll never really know,
How it could be with me in a real show.

Don't bother to make a future plan,
To change what is already done.
It's nothing to lose and I can explain,
That you will be so tired working in vain.

Maybe I know you from another life,
But I wanted to be another man's wife.
Why I did this and how it could be,
I know 'cause I met my own prophecy.

Don't lose your hope; you'll be happy some day.
The world is yours and you have nothing to pay.
If you get crazy, when I'm talking about love,
Maybe is something coming to you from above.

But don't be sad 'cause you can get everything
In this world of yours, except on little thing,
But you need a heart and to be good to get it.
It's too much to pay, so better forget it.

So don't lose your hope at your own sixty.
It's time to reach your next alive destiny.
One thing you'll certainly never know,
How it could be with me in your real show.

OUR THRILL

Like two angels flying
And touching each other
With their trembling
Wings.

OUT OF SPACE AND TIME

When God is seemingly nowhere,
He is certainly deep within ourselves.
We search Him at that core of the core,
Out of space and time,
Where darkness and coldness cannot be
Delved into the past
We search ourselves in our wintry wretchedness.
Pure consciousness is God
In all things,
But only the human beings are conscious of
His presence,
Being with Him.
It's absolutely no way to explain why
This frozen unconsciousness of the clay
Can rise to an enlightened consciousness.
Sometimes we are sharp rocks,
Having the consciousness of a stone,
Which is so formless, inchoate and
Sometimes empty,
Waiting His flood in early spring
For washing our sinful being,
Waiting the light,
Which speeds without mass
In non-existing space and time
For lightening our inner soul of nature


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Writing Poetry/Quotes - It's Actually Quite Easy

It's just that simply put! While other believe it is a God given talent, I believe anyone can learn the art of poetry; as long as the determination and drive are there. There are tons of resources all over the internet about writing your poetry, you could read all of them and it still wouldn't make any sense. Why is that? Is it because you don't care? Or is it that you want to care but it's just to hard? Here's a hint: 'Practice makes perfect'. Speak from within and write it down, you might surprise yourself if you try. It might take 5 or 30 minutes, but trust me, as soon as you get started, the sky's the limit. So practice, practice, practice, and share; what you think isn't worth reading might be inspirational for others; and again, your resources, they are all just resources; they won't help you express yourself, which is a large part of the art.

So, "How do I start a poem?" Let's try something simple; how do you feel? What recent events in your life have made you happy, sad, lazy, cry or maybe even mad. Have you made a decision? That was the first step, it will set the mood for your poetry, sure, it comes from your feelings, but you don't need to tell anyone that it's how you feel if you don't want to. You could say " It's how I think others see things", something like that. Poetry is easy, but not that easy, there are various forms of writing poetry, you don't need to know them all, actually, if your just interested in writing, I wouldn't worry about knowing them yet.

Poetry that rhymes?

Let's make this poem easy, growing up the poems that usually and probably captivated you was from Dr. Suess, my personal favourite, was none other than The Cat in the Hat. What did he do a lot of? Rhyme. Now lets pick 'sad'; from poetry I've read and written, it seems to be the easiest emotion to write about. This is an example:

Evasion

Hiding behind the lies
Running from the truth,
Silence broken from the cries
Of the troubled youth;
Being independent
"I can do it myself",
Beginning to feel neglected
Now asking for some help;
Still trying to bury the pain
And turn away from the trouble,
Life's pleasures never aimed
Now buried within the struggle;
Air filled with regret
Wanting to turn back time,
Stricken with every breath
Just about to cross the line;
No one will remember
The tears of the fallen youth,
Forgotten they are, forever
Because they never chanced the truth

I wrote this one quite a while back, I was inspired by a friend who was trying to run away from a personal situation. It obviously is not directed towards this certain individual, yes it's about the situation; but have you ever felt this way?

Try something like this out, concentrate, focus on what your feeling and write it down. Experiment a little, first person, or third? Are you speaking to someone/something, or are you being spoken to? If you are trying to rhyme and you get stumped, http://www.rhymezone.com/ is a pretty good site to try, if not, there are others as well.

Poetry, it doesn't rhyme?

Ok, so there are lots and lots of poems that do rhyme, what about the stuff that doesn't. Is it easier or harder to write? I myself find it more difficult, but that's just me; you might find a better 'flow' if you don't have to rhyme your words. Again, try to pick a topic or emotion; I've noticed in the years that poetry usually doesn't rhyme when the message is more serious, but this isn't always the case, they can also be silly at the same time:

The Perfect Lasting Memory

You were more than just a figment of my imagination,
You were something that was impossible to dream
I saw you where ever I was, where ever I went,
Even when I closed my eyes or when I was with someone else
Sometimes I called your name by accident,
Even when it doesn't fit with the sentence
I don't know why you're always there
To trouble me,
It's irritating but at the same time it captivates me
It puts a smile on my face even though I know it shouldn't
It's because you are totally different,
Within your own category, I know you're not perfect
And I know you never will become perfect,
But it's our imperfections that make us unique and perfect on its own...

The above are just examples of what your emotions and everyday interactions can translate into. It can become a challenge if what you write is not good enough for you; but proof read it, make changes, save it, then proof read it again the next day. Have someone you trust to criticize your work, what do they like, what don't they like? Remember, everyone interprets certain thing differently, especially poetry. If you would like a little more 'tips', here is a list that I found helpful to me when I first started:

After writing a quote or poem that you are happy with, try writing another. You may find that you had more inspiration from the previous poem to write another 'keeper'. Try it a few time before giving up on it.
Share your work, with friends family, even complete strangers. See what they think, they might love it, they might not. Ask for criticism, in the end don't be offended; good or bad, it is still constructive. So take it, and improve.

Your poem is yours, and the people that read them will interpret them how they like. Each poem can have several meanings for several individuals.

One of your 'bad' poems may become a favourite from someone else. So don't be so quick to discard it.

Don't only write poetry, but also read it; as often as possible. You can refine your style by learning a few new tricks from other writers.

Try several different styles or forms. The more you expand, the better you can get; as the saying goes 'practice make perfect'.

Bring a pad and pen and try to write in several places so you can 'see' ideas and write about them. Changing your surroundings can change your mood and in turn inspire your poetry.

Lastly, poetry maybe an art; but it's also a hobby that you should have fun with. More information and communication with other writers can be found at http://pomesarepoems.com/. Please make sure to take a look and leave a poem or quote; this site was built for writers of all ages and poetry of all styles, and is not for promotions of anything other than yourself. Please show your support for poetry by signing into the forum or leaving a comment.

Happy writing!!

- J a R -


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Romantic Words

Hello honey
I am finally at home
After working all day
I am here to be with you

I think of you all day long
I am anxious to be back at home to hug you
and give you all my love
You are my everyday inspiration

I feel special for you receiving me with your warmth arms
I feel loved by your great care
I feel nourished by your nurturing hands
I feel that I am all yours and you are all mine

Can I give you a kiss to delight your heart?
Can I make love to you to create a new beautiful child?
Can I have you in my arms all night long?
Can I show you that you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world?

Your lips fills my soul in your kisses
Your body is perfect with my body
Your heart waits for my arms
Your love is to last forever for me because we are to be eternal soul mates

You can be me
I can be you
We know each other that we are best friends
There is no secret between you and I, except pure connection and intimacy

I sing to you the most romantic songs
I read to you my love poems
I recite to you my melodies sonnets
I heart you as my forever girlfriend and wife

You are the woman of my dreams
You are the only mother of all my children
You are all I ever wanted
Our children are prosperous for our hard work together as a married couple.

You can be me
I can be you
We know each other that we are best friends
There is no secret between you and I, except pure connection and intimacy

Can I give you a kiss to delight your heart?
Can I make love to you to create a new beautiful child?
Can I have you in my arms all night long?
Can I show you that you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world?

You can be me
I can be you
We know each other that we are best friends
There is no secret between you and I, except pure connection and intimacy

Your lips fills my soul in your kisses
Your body is perfect with my body
Your heart waits for my arms
Your love is to last forever for me because we are to be eternal soul mates

Jose Angel Manaiza, Jr. is a Mathematician


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Types of Short Poems - Haiku

Short poetry is a favorite amongst many young authors, and why not? Poetry is a literature genre which encompasses a powerful set of tools set forth to explode emotion and bring about the best of authors.

One form of short poetry which young authors tend to love is haiku. Sadly, the haiku is often misrepresented by poets around the world. Many try to bring about their own definition to this type of short poetry. Again, sadly, this doesn't do justice to the poetic form. Nonetheless, whenever an artist tries to create art, it is fantastic. The world is definitely a better place with more art than less.

What is a haiku?

A haiku is a Japanese form of poem. In its original usage, it was an opening verse of haikai no renga, called a hokku. This opening verse consisted of a "cutting word" such as "ya" in Japanese (there is no English equivalent so normal punctuation such as a comma, colon, hyphen, etc are used), a word used to help the reader identify the season (actual names of seasons are often used, but words such as harvest, clouds, leaves, blossoms are as well), and a mora pattern of 5-7-5. A morae is not a syllable; it is a minimal unit of phonology used for timing and stress.

A mora is easy to find in many Asian languages, especially Japanese--where the equivalent is called "on." However, the English language is much more difficult when it comes to identifying morae.

Here are some general rules for morae:

The first consonant(s) of a syllable do not count as a mora. For example, the "d" in "dog" does not count as a mora.
The syllable nucleus counts as one mora in the case of a short vowel and two morae in a long vowel or diphthong. Consonants serving as the nuclei also count as one for short and two if long. For example, the "ai" in "tail" counts as two morae. Thus, the word has three morae. The "ai" and "l".
In the coda, a stressed syllable counts as a mora while unstressed syllables may or may not. There is no consensus thought on unstressed syllables in the coda.

A few examples of morae in words:

Jump = 2
Hello = 3
Cat = 2
Microscope = 8

Many people who write haiku claim the poetic form contains 5-7-5 syllables. However, this lengthens the poem an incredible amount, making the form much longer than it should be.

Here are the same words as before but as syllables instead of morae:

Jump = 1
Hello = 2
Cat = 1
Microscope = 3

Together, there are seven syllables but fifteen morae. Wow! What a difference. Over twice as many morae. This means, if these were used to create a haiku using the 5-7-5 syllable structure, the poems length would be at least twice as long. This is not what the original authors of haiku had intended.

If you are not comfortable counting morae, one school of thought for keeping the haiku a short length is to keep the poem under three seconds long while read. This will keep the poem roughly the same length, yet much easier for the English writer.

Next time you try to write a short poem, try writing it as haiku using morae. It will be an adventure and a great learning experience. If you have trouble counting the morae, just try to keep the poem under three seconds.

You may also wish to check out short poetry by Gary R. Hess or one of the many famous haiku poets.


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Sunday, June 26, 2011

To Angela Gheorghiu With All Admiration

Sensuality

To engage in acts of sensuality with Angela Gheorghiu would be as if a dream on to me who does so much admire the opera as well as her lovely persona with temperament of diva ever true while figure of pure female sexuality does complete an angelic portrait.

That Angela Gheorghiu's body might with wings covered in silk elevate mine in flight of fantasy is but heaven.

That her voice might soar to highs of Tosca is beauty in forms far beyond what dreams or words might describe yet I dare seek them.

That Angela Gheorghiu's rose of black night, as her mane long bear the caresses of lips in kiss of tempestuous nature is but wonder of imagination yet mine is to hope.

That Angela Gheorghiu provide sighs of operatic delight as my being bring them about in carnality is but folly yet I do wish it as the star of the north is bright.

Fragrance

Angela Gheorghiu makes her entrance on to the bedroom in the late hours of evening and is she a grand sight? This that which need not be proclaimed beyond her mere presence to exclaim all that she be to the eye of mine ever captivated. It being with black silks to decorate legs of ivory white sexuality that she glide upon while lingerie of pearl shades lures my imagination. It seeking beyond that which be dedicated to the eye while it be Angela Gheorghiu to provide true grandness on to wears of elegance along with the room which with her vision is beautified while the fragrance of her femininity is tenderly released.

The delicate scent of Angela Gheorghiu yet not of perfume to be purchased in bottles but of her feminine perspiration of sweetness to descend from tender breasts of damsel while it be the fragrance of sexuality from the flower of her sexuality to entice. A rose of night in mystery be that which merit caress of tact or tongue seeking the exquisite to the palate. Ay, harmonies to the sense of smell they be as her soprano voice be to that of hearing when she but open lips of rose to deliver sighs of "Sempre Libera".

White Silks

Angela Gheorghiu makes strides with legs ever lovely in shape sensual while silks of cream color serve but to mark lines of lady refined. Angela Gheorghiu be figure of delight in meadow on day of sun as if painted by Manet. Angela Gheorghiu in dress to blend with beauty of scenery, cascading over body delicate of opera deity yet in flight of butterfly wings covered in silk are but slight glimpses of heavenly light. A sight to create wonder on to eye of invader, to feast upon flesh of beauty nay caressed by threads of fashion.

Bonnet

Angela Gheorghiu be figure of beauty on day of blazing sun yet it be bonnet of finest threads to cover precious mane of dark mystery as to nay permit glare of Apollo's light to intrude upon skin a pale shade. Angela's eyes seeking from under pleasant shadow as if with gaze blessing all whom be about with grace of lady of charm. It be smile to capture moment in her warmth as with head held high Angela completes portrait of loveliness.

Rose

Angela's rose be black pearl
swathed in deluxe crimson silk of the orient
dearly cherished as jewel of deity

Angela's rose be moist flower
delicate dew, delight of spring rain

Angela's rose be exquisite fragrance
of feminine sensual perfume

Angela's rose be satin to the touch of palate

To Awaken

To see Angela Gheorghiu
eyes shade a blue bright
rise as does morrow of light
oh, such would it be delight

To sense Angela Gheorghiu
breath of sensual fragrance
sweet taste of romance
lovely enchantment

To stroke Angela Gheorghiu
ivory delicate skin
with that of mine
ever in care tender
as wee hours stir emotion
as Angela be dream of sensation

To hear Angela Gheorghiu
as loveliest harmony of nature
yowl of passion desperate
canary in feminine beauty
melodious voice of sexuality
all be mine of treasure

Pale Skin

Oh, sensual mounds of soprano
forms of lovely femininity
light skin with crimson
yielding crimson beauty
upon flesh so tender of lady

Oh, sensual mounds of soprano
supple flesh of femininity
soft sand in my hand
supple wonder of ye bella

Oh, sensual mounds of soprano
savor so sweet of thee
delicate sexuality in ye
lust of mine to devour

Oh, sensual mounds of soprano
moans a high as Traviata
elegance of desire
joys of ours in passion

Wings

Wings Of Angela
glide upon stage as sensual Violetta
silk a white decor lovely traviata
fashion to fill vision of loveliness
on to Alfredo gallant

Wings Of Angela
run to and fro
youth of Madame Butterfly
beautiful sweet child of orient
mystery of land far away
awaits beloved captain

Wings Of Angela
gypsy in untamed sensuality
woman of raw sexuality
seducer of Don Jose
noble heart of nature wild

Wings Of Angela
delicate creature of shyness
lady of tender adoration
sweet Lucia hailed as Mimi
Rodolfo's desires upon thee
tragic figure of despot world

Lips

Scarlet be lips Of Angela
robust as to harmonies
passion of operones
lovely sight of soprano
grand in sensuality
colors bright
delicate sexuality

Ruby be lips of Angela
as to deliver loving caress
ever tender on to mine
as hers be sweet wine
to delight senses in warmth

Claret be lips of Angela
bright smile to charm
beauty of enchantment
sight of my dreams
in joyful expression
as lips of Angela

My name is Gianni Truvianni, author of many an article to be found on the internet along with the book "New York's Opera Society". My works also include the books "What Should Not Matter", "Love Your Sister" and several others which still remain unpublished though I am presently looking to change this.


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Ready To Go!

There lived a small girl
In her own small world
She knew no worries
Seen, told or heard

And there lived the parents
Watching her each moment
They laughed with her, they played with her
And prayed for her when silent

The days were going fine
But those were moving though
The small girl of two and a half
Suddenly grew in her shoe

The father was a bit worried
The girl knows nothing but the home
Its time to admit her to the school
He decided one day when alone

This when travelled and reached the mother
She was uneasy to the core
Her weekdays world of two seemed to shatter
When she had her daughter, and no more

Now, there was a long argument that followed
It lasted, and lasted, till a fight
The mother wept, and the father consoled
And the matter at that hour died

The days were again good
They laughed and played like before
The small girl was now 2 years and nine months
And the matter was upfront again for sure

The father worried, the mother resisted
The latter wept, the former consoled
But this time, they kept the matter alive
And the good schools list online was unfold

The coming week was a personal visit
To the 4 schools and nurseries short listed
The small girl was still unaware
Whilst the parents were busy finding her the best

They settled on a pretty, beautiful nursery
It was amidst the big park
A few yards walk would lead to the ducks' pond
The nature here was a fresh stark

Then came the day that the parents dreaded
The small girl today would be at her own
Her bag was stuffed with her favourite snacks and fruits
In spite of 'no eating mid session' rule known

The father took the day off
The mother dressed the girl cute
All three of them started their walk
Towards 'Scamps Day Nursery' road

The staff welcomed them very well
They asked them not to worry a bit
Everything looked warm and perfect
Till the moment the parents were to quit

The mother went to drop the girl in her room
Who was happy to see many small faces together
The only bit of the problem was
Mother's hand was clutched in her small fingers

It took more courage than ever thought
Leaving her hands and turning quiet
The girl was crying 'mamma... mamma...'
And out, father had tears he couldn't fight

They both made their way home
Not a word they spoke in between
There were three full hours to wait
The house today looked irritatingly clean

Then ended the wait, and ended their silence
The parents started hopefully towards the nursery
This time, they were full of conversation
More advices from each side, than necessary

They waited out, while the session ended
One of the staff members brought their small girl
She told them about the girl's day at school
And the parents nodded their heads, pretending to hear all

The girl's face showed immense fear
Unsure of everything around her
It elated seeing her parents
Whom she thought had left forever

While walking back she had stories to tell
And that how she laughed and cried
She repeated whenever asked that the school was good
But going again, she denied

The next day was a little relief
The small girl on hearing 'school' got up from bed
She finished her breakfast without trouble
The mother got her quickly dressed

This time they asked the father to stay
So just two of them walked to nursery
The small girl until entering the room was chatty
Then came again the 'leaving mother' misery

After leaving the small girl crying
The mother took quick steps back home
Soon she was very happy, her daughter was painting
They just confirmed on the telephone

The next few days were no different
The daughter cried while leaving the mother
Her stories though were more creative
And had more difficult words than ever

Very soon the day came
When the small girl smiled at her mother
You go home, I'm playing games here
She said and set a milestone for the future

Her little world was widening
The mother was overfilled with joy
The next second she told this to the father
And they asked each-other not to cry

It has been two months this way
3 hours 3 days at the nursery
The small girl is not 3 years yet
But she gained much confidence and vocabulary

The little teeth are brushed twice
She washes up after the toilet
Is always ready with 'Thanks' and 'Sorry'
Before you feel it is any late

The mother and father are more happy
The happier days are back again
Their daughter is into the safe hands
Ready to go, sun or rain!


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Poetry Is Love, Poetry Is Life, Poetry Is Me

Poetry is all around us whether we know it or not. It is in songs, advertisements, and common stories. We have grown up with it, lived it, and continue to experience it every day.

My love of poetry first began as a little boy. Like many children, I found Mother Goose as great entertainment. The stories allowed my imagination to take hold onto something great and create a whole world I would have otherwise not known.

Poetry was my pathway to adulthood. It allowed me to read what others have gone through in a short read, but it allowed my mind to continue to digest the information for hours, even days. As someone who has always been a slow reader, it allowed me to take something more out of the length of time it took me to read.

As a teenager, I began writing my own poetry. It allowed me to express myself in ways I couldn't find in short stories or journals. It helped my imagination keep hold and keep my mind clean. As someone who didn't have much luck with the opposite sex, I needed every way possible to express my unrequited loves.

As an adult, my poetry has changed from my earlier writings. I no longer write about the sadness of relationships or friendships gone awry. I write about the sunset. I write about my favorite sports teams. I write about the true beauty of life. Sadly, my time is much more limited now than it was in my school days. Luckily, my writing has improved much over the years. What I lost in quantity I made up for in quantity (or so I hope).

To me, poetry is more than just a few words put together to make up meters and stanzas. It is expression. It is life. It is something I can read and then think about for hours. It is the top of the literature pyramid. It is evergrowing and it is powerful. It is apart of my past which I will never forget and will always be apart of my future.

My love of poetry might have began as a little boy, however, it has only grown throughout the years. It is something eternal and inside me. It is my true love of the literature world. It is something which will always be there when I need it.

Poetry is words. Poetry is life. Poetry is me.

You might also enjoy Love 4 Poetry.

Gary R. Hess has been writing poetry for ten years and is the author of many poetry articles.


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Understanding Poetic Elements

At some point of our lives, we all have to deal with reading, understanding, analyzing and even writing poems. Either it is our passion or our Language and/or Literature teacher forced us to do so because our curriculum requires us. To some, reading, understanding and writing poetry pose great challenges while it gives pleasure to others, as if they were munching popcorn while watching a very enjoyable film. These people have become so much familiar with the elements of poetry and this has made them quite experts with reading, understanding and even writing poetry. Getting familiar with and understanding these elements will greatly help you develop and better view and understanding towards poetry. Here are some of the elements you should be aware of:

Theme. It is what the poem is about. The theme of the poem can greatly vary from on subject to another, as the poet wishes it to be. Robert Browning's Prospice and William Cullen Bryant's Thanatopsis talk about death, while Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's The Arrow and the Song talks about friendship. Within the theme of the poem, universal truths can be found. Universal truths, as the name suggests are eternal principle conveyed by the poem that is connected to the theme. Prospice and Thanatopsis tells us that death is nothing to be feared of, it should be welcomed with open arms because it unites us nature and it levels all creation, because we all die. These are the universal truths about the theme, death. The theme of a poem can only be a word or a phrase, but the universal truth that it conveys could be longer than a paragraph.

Speaker. The speaker is the character of the poem that expresses the emotions and/or sentiments in the first person point of view which may not necessarily be the author herself as she may not share the same sentiments. Authors use speakers in their poems to create a more realistic expression of the emotions and ideas in the poem.

Tone and Mood. The tone is the "voice" of the poem we imagine the poem is read in. It can be indignant, happy, sad and so on. The mood is the overall feeling conveyed by the poem which can be created by the tone and/or the choice of words that can clearly express indignation, disgust, love and so on.

Rhyme Scheme. Rhyming is very common in poetry, although not all poets impose rhyme schemes in their poems. Rhyming adds effect to the structure of the poem, often it also helps convey the theme and emphasizes the mood of the poem by the playful sound that it creates.

Meter. It is the basic structure of a poem: the units and sub-units of a line, syllable and stanza. Most poems come in pentameters (a line of five metrical feet).

Style. Poetry does come in different packages: we have the free verse, blank verse, sonnets and etc. These styles includes the rhyming, meter and arrangement of everything. Does it come in a couplet, quatrain, sestet? Is it a haiku, a sonnet, a limerick? The style of poetry is sometime imposed by the poet to add visual effects in the conveying of the theme. More often than not, the style is not a manner of random choice but of discreet and wise utility of poetic element.

Symbolism. This element of poetry seems to be the hardest to grasp because the interpretation may vary from reader to reader. These symbols are figures or things mentioned or implied in the poem which means or signifies another thing. A sword could be used as a symbol for power, violence, justice and many more depending how the author used it. A wind may symbolize trouble or support. Interpreting symbolism require in-depth and extra reading and pondering. You may also need to check cross-reference within the poem and other works to attest the meaning of the symbol as implied by the poet.

These are some of but a few elements of poetry that one should get familiar to when he/she wants to read, understand or write a poem. This article may not give an in-depth view or tutorial but it can give a hint how to approach poetry, either you want to read, understand or write one.

Read more articles of the author at http://kirbikit.tumblr.com/. Literary analysis of short fictions and original short stories also posted.


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Pablo Fanque's Fair (A Seminal Phrase in Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite)

"Pablo Fanque's Fair", good heavens, just what does it mean?

If you have had the good fortune to trip across this phrase on more than a few occasions over the last few decades, I would only conclude that you are one of the lucky ones. Certainly Winston O' Boogie had his flashes of poetic brilliance and this song is no exception. Accompanied by the three other boys that hailed from that place called "Liverpool", "Pablo Fanque's Fair" is an oblique reference that might otherwise have heightened a sensation, that could quite possibly, have come to be called, "much more than just erect".

In fact, some scant research indicates that the dubious phrase in question refers to none other than Pablo Fanque. It turns out that Pablo Fanque was the first British circus proprietor who had ancestors of African origin. According to the historical archives, it is reported that Fanque was born in Norwich, England in 1791 as William Darby. The circumstances surrounding his early life have however been subject to debate. Some accounts indicate that Fanque was an orphan who had been born as the son of an African born butler. Other accounts indicate that Fanque was one of seven children raised in a home for the working poor. Nonetheless, we do know that Fanque trained as a circus performer under the direction of William Batty, and acquired a considerable reputation for flaunting, posturing, tumbling, rope dancing and a complete repertoire of equestrian tricks.

As a renowned performer and eventual proprietor of a circus in what has been called the golden age of circus performances in Great Britain, it can only be assumed that Fanque's encountered considerable hardship in his climactic rise to fame. Yet some historical reports indicate that the circus may have actually originated in Britain not long before the performances of Fanque became quite popular. At least one report has attributed the origin of circus performances in England to Philip Astley who was born in Newcastle upon Tyne as the able son of a humble English cabinetmaker. He became a Sergeant Major in the " Fifteenth Light Dragoon Regiment" which was a British cavalry troop founded in 1746.

It may be interesting to note that in the years that preceded Fanque's performances large venues were established to showcase a full range of acts. One example was the "London Hippodrome". It brandished a host of routines that included menagerie, circus and urban theater. Equestrian acts, elephants, polar bears, acrobats and aquatic spectacles flooded the entertainment stage on a regular basis. In recent decades the "London Hippodrome" was converted into a restaurant/night club. It has hosted a wide variety of entertainers including Tom Jones, Eartha Kit, The Jackson Five, Ella Fitzgerald and Neil Sedaka.

Gerald Marchewka is an American freelance writer currently living in Lviv, Ukraine. Gerald's most recent book, "Straight from the Heaven's: Li Bai's Poetry in Retrospect" featuring the Illustrations of Seb Fowler is now on sale at Lulu.com Questions about Gerald's projects may be forwarded to geraldmarchewka@yahoo.com


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