Most Liked About CS Poems (263)

The stillness of the night steals my thoughts away,

Darkness unleashes its storm,
Inside my mind,

Its gathering clouds spew forth,
Raindrops,

That burn my soul,

A cloudburst of memories soak,
into the very heart of me,

Silver threads of light,
Bind me,

As backwards i am pulled,
towards old fears,

Joy, mingled with pain,
unable to break free from,

The gossameer web that now,
Surrounds me,

Night time, my old enemy....

Can you hear this scream echoing inside my head,
Can you hear the pounding of my heart,
Can you hear the confusion of my thoughts,
Can you hear the stretching of my nerves,
Can you hear the cold hand of fear grasping my heart,
Can you hear the desolation sweeping over me,
Can you hear the lonliness as it envelops me,
Can you hear my silent plea for help ?

NO...............

But i know you can see these things in my eyes
and in my movements,
So therefore you ARE listening to me,

THANK YOU................................

He can be arrogant and selfish
He can drive me to despair
He can anger, hurt and sadden me
Without a thought or care.
He can make me feel so helpless
He can make me scream and shout
He can make me feel so many things
But I know without a doubt,
That always I will love him
Until my dying day.
I always will protect him
No matter come what may
I always will defend him
Be he wrong or right,
Strive to keep him safe from harm
With all my power and might.
My life I'd gladly give for him
If ever need may be
For I love him more than life itself
I'm his Mum, he's my Son, you see....

Look, go to france! Yes, go to france boy. Often mother's last stance, when she was annoyed. We all know mothers, one thing they fret! Avoiding words with 4 letters, words they would regret. Cussing the kids politely, using obscenity with tact. Telling us kids kindly: get the monkey off my back. Rain rain go to spain, and never come again. These children seem pained, looking helpless at the rain. This their unanimous cry, wishing the rain away. Anything they will try, on their mind is play. Kids don't need diplomacy, they don't need tact. What they mean simply: get the monkey off my back! You filed for bankruptcy; protection from the courts. You know you owe money, but creditors you must thwart. Mail after mail coming, not to mention your phone. Your bills just not going; lord, you are debt prone. You don't have money, that is the fact. Wall street: this not funny. Get your monkeys off my back!

Night Fire








Your silken hands set my body aflame


The softness of your lips takes my breath away,


Your eyes stare into mine


As deeper you draw me in,





You heighten my every sense


Releasing burning desires untold


And still your eyes stare into mine


Drawing me deeper still,





You take me on a journey


To heights before not reached


Unleashing raw abandonment


As I melt in the burning heat,

Come quell this tempest within me,

Replace it, with the wings of a dove,

Let me experience paradise,

And walk, on the clouds up above,

Let a sea of tranquility envelop me,

Shooting stars, light my way through the night,

The smell of sweet blossoms surround me,

As I wake, in the new mornings light,

Quench my thirst, with the water of life,

Let me hear, a chorus of angels sing,

Love me just the way I am,

And if you do, then I'll have everything...

Hey Group, this is not a poem... just want to clear some things up that seem to be brewing here right now.

The purpose of the Poet's Corner is POETRY NOT POLITICS.

The subject of a poem MAY be about a current event or about an author's own political opinion (freedom to express).

Comments to those poems should be directed at the poem itself.. a friendly constructive critique/discussion of the poem as it was posted.. nothing more. Comments may NOT be a personal attack on the beliefs or 'person' of the poet that may be indicated in the poem (respect for others and the rules).

The Poet's Corner is NOT a soapbox to argue politics, politicians, or political parties.

Neither poem nor comments may be used as a personal attack on any other member.

In the Poet's Corner it doesn't matter if politically you are liberal, conservative, or any other party. It doesn't matter who you voted for in the last election, or who you think caused current political local or world problems. This is an international site, rich in the diversity of opinions and writing skills from members of different cultures, religions, locations, educations, and language worldwide. It's not surprising that we do not all agree. But we need to be tolerant of our differences, be openminded to ideas we don't like and, if we're willing, we can actually learn a lot from others who are very different from us.

Remember, you're here because you love writing and verse, not to support a political agenda. If you do, you're risking your membership and ability to post here.

My heart beats fast,
My breathing is labored,
The taste lingers on my tongue.
The air is cold,
But the heat in unbearable,
And its pools against my skin.
The work is quick,
For Its self inflicted,
The fever of my skin.
My heart is erratic,
With movements to match,
I find pleasure in my own company.
I must work quick,
the heat is burning,
And I long for what’s to come.
So my fingers move faster,
and I finish the job.
I dive into the what’s left,
with two fingers,
Slowly,
I devour the taste,
And moan out in delight.
Licking off the essence,
That remain upon my skin.
Its perfect.
Its sweet, but tart,
And lingers in my mouth.
Lemons? Limes? Strawberries?
I cannot decide the flavour.
It tastes so good I cannot resist
Going back for more.
I must stop myself,
From going to far.
As this is how it started before.
My breathing is labored,
As I savour another taste.
You can never have enough of a good thing,
But I must be careful not to start again.

Green Tunisia, I have come to you as a lover
On my brow, a rose and a book
For I am the Damascene whose profession is passion
Whose singing turns the herbs green
A Damascene moon travels through my blood
Nightingales . . . and grain . . . and domes
From Damascus, jasmine begins its whiteness
And fragrances perfume themselves with her scent
From Damascus, water begins . . . for wherever
You lean your head, a stream flows
And poetry is a sparrow spreading its wings
Over Sham . . . and a poet is a voyager
From Damascus, love begins . . . for our ancestors
Worshipped beauty, they dissolved it, and they melted away
From Damascus, horses begin their journey
And the stirrups are tightened for the great conquest
From Damascus, eternity begins . . . and with her
Languages remain and genealogies are preserved
And Damascus gives Arabism its form
And on its land, epochs materialize

There is a time in your life
When love and hurt comes into play
You just shrug it off
Tomorrows another day

But you know deep inside
That there was a little spark
It was about to come alive

Little did you know someone special
There you thought,the knock on the front door
Eventhough things go so well
It makes your feelings and heart swell

When you turn out the lights
Usually it means noones home
But sometimes there is
They just want to be alone

That is a sign the person is stuck
They cannot move on,no such luck
So just keep moving,and wish them well
Even if it sometimes hurts like hell

Relationships,come and go
Playing around because that is all they know