Poets Passion
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Well, poetry was the first love of art I was introduced to when I was ten years old, and the rest is history. To me, It's the doorway to release creativity, pain, love, memories, and painted pictures that only you can see in your mind. I welcome u!
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Latest Activity: Oct 30
Phenomenal Woman
PHENOMENAL WOMAN
by Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I figured that I would start with the woman I most admire in the world. The woman that teaches within this poem, that self confidence is a strong tool to have in society, no matter what you look like, shaped or creed. What you believe about yourself comes from within and no where else.
by Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I figured that I would start with the woman I most admire in the world. The woman that teaches within this poem, that self confidence is a strong tool to have in society, no matter what you look like, shaped or creed. What you believe about yourself comes from within and no where else.
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TIMES ARE HARD
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Comment by Satis Shroff on October 30, 2009 at 9:22am -
Zeitgeistlyrik: Literature Nobel Prize Herta Müller 2009:
UPROOTED & BANISHED (Satis Shroff)
A Banat Swabian poetess
Was born in 1953
In a hamlet called Nitzkydorf,
Which lies in Romania.
She came to Berlin in 1987.
Wrote verses to mete out justice
To the fate of German Romanians,
Who were departed to work camps.
The other way round.
Jews died in concentration camps,
80,000 ethnic Germans from Romania,
Uprooted and banished,
Suffered hunger and death
In the Ukranian camps.
Survival strategies and dreams
At the end of the Second World War.
If Bertold Brecht’s Furcht und Elend
Im Dritten Reich
Told us about the Nazi terror,
Hertha’s verses and prose reveal
The sadness and angst of her lost people.
In a small hamlet in Banat,
Small Herta tells us
In her hard, Banat-German accent,
How hostile her home environment was.
She speaks of her doubts and fears,
For it is plain to see:
She’s made of another genetic material
That made her vulnerable to her environs,
Like underdogs everywhere in this world.
How unbearable for Romanians,
The Banat-Germans had their own
Culture, tradition
And way of life.
But pray, don’t ethnic Germans say
The same things about migrants
Eking out a living here?
Hertha speaks a poetic language
Of a gone but not lost past,
Of the misery, angst and terror
Felt by her people.
Her books emphasise
The cruel, inhuman face of communism,
Under Nicolae Ceausescu.
A chronist walking
Along the thin line,
Between poetry and terror,
Where every line is a cry
Against injustice
With pregnant titles:
The Fox Was even Then a Hunter (1992),
Herztier (1994),
In the Hair-knots Lives a Lady,
The King (Ceausescu) Bows and Kills (2000)
The Pale Gentleman and the Mocca Cups (2005).
Herta said:
‘My innermost desire is to write
I can live with it.’
Her literary style is precise,
Laconic and matter-of-fact.
Despite her publications,
Ms. Müller was a nobody.
Without her notes on Oskar Pastiors
She couldn’t have penned ‘Atemschaukel.’
It became more than a swing of breath.
She was shadowed, interrogated and persecuted.
Günter Grass said:
‘I’m very satisfied with the Literature Prize
For Herta from Stockholm.’
Karasek quipped:
‘My mantra is always for Philip Roth,’
And sounded like: ‘My Heart Belongs to Daddy.’
Germany’s literary pope
Marcel Reich-Ranicki:
‘I plead for Roth and wish to say
No more.’
Literary critics form the USA commented:
‘We suggest Philip Roth, Thomas Pynchon,
Joyce Carol Oates
Or Bob Dylan.’
The Swedish Academy gave the prize
For the fourteenth time
To Germany.
Poor Romania.
* * *
(Sketch © 2007 Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
THE AGONY OF WAR (Satis Shroff)
Once upon a time there was a seventeen year old boy
Who lived in the Polish city of Danzig.
He was ordered to join the Waffen-SS,
Hitler’s elite division.
Oh, what an honour for a seventeen year old,
Almost a privilege to join the Waffen-SS.
The boy said, “Wir wurden von früh bis spät
Geschliffen und sollten
Zur Sau gemacht werden.”
A Russian grenade shrapnel brought his role
In the war to an abrupt end.
That was on April 20, 1945.
In the same evening,
He was brought to Meissen,
Where he came to know about his Vaterland’s defeat.
The war was lost long ago.
He realised how an ordinary soldier
Became helpless after being used as a tool in the war,
Following orders that didn’t demand heroism
In the brutal reality of war.
It was a streak of luck,
And his inability to ride a bicycle,
That saved his skin
At the Russian-held village of Niederlausitz.
His comrades rode the bicycle,
And he was obliged to give them fire-support
With a maschine-gun.
His seven comrades and the officer
Were slain by the Russians.
The only survivor was a boy
Of seventeen.
He abandoned his light maschine-gun,
And left the house of the bicycle-seller,
Through the backyard garden
With its creaky gate.
What were the chances in the days of the Third Reich
For a 17 year old boy named Günter Grass
To understand the world?
The BBC was a feindliche radio,
And Goebbels’ propaganda maschinery
Was in full swing.
There was no time to reflect in those days.
Fürcht und Elend im Dritten Reich,
Wrote Bertold Brecht later.
Why did he wait till he was almost eighty?
Why did he torment his soul all these years?
Why didn’t he tell the bitter truth,
About his tragi-comical role in the war
With the Waffen-SS?
He was a Hitlerjunge,
A young Nazi.
Faithful till the end.
A boy who was seduced by the Waffen-SS.
His excuse:
„Ich habe mich verführen lassen.“
The reality of the war brought
Endless death and suffering.
He felt the fear in his bones,
His eyes were opened at last.
Günter Grass is a figure,
You think you know well.
Yet he’s aloof
And you hardly know him,
This literary titan.
He breathes literature
And political engagement.
In his new book:
Beim Häuten der Zwiebeln
He confides he has lived from page to page,
And from book to book.
Is he a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
Doctor Faustus and Mephistopheles,
In the same breast?
Grass belongs to us,
For he has spent the time with us.
It was his personal weakness
Not to tell earlier.
He’s a playwright, director and actor
Of his own creativeness,
And tells his own tale.
His characters Oskar and Mahlke weren’t holy Joes.
It was his way of indirectly showing
What went inside him.
Ach, his true confession took time.
It was like peeling an onion with tears,
One layer after the other.
Better late than never.
* * *
On Her Majesty’s Lyrical Service:
Poet Laureate (Satis Shrof)
Wanted:
A person who writes in lyrical form,
Composes verses for occasions,
Good stanzas in favour of kings and queens,
Princes and Princesses,
For the price of 5000 Sterling pounds
And, of course, 650 bottles
Of Sherry,
To inspire the poet.
And the title of Poet Laureate.
A court poet is a smith of verses,
Not a bass-guitarist
Of the royal band
Based in Buckingham.
Beginners need not apply.
Candidates should be
A professor of English Literature.
The last Poet Laureate penned
Verses in praise of Edward
And his beautiful Sophie,
A hundred years of the Queen Mother
And the latter’s sad demise.
The Queen’s diamond wedding anniversary,
A rap-rhyme for rosy-cheeked Prince William,
When he turned twenty-one.
Yeah! ‘Better stand back
Here’s a age attack.’
He even congratulated Charles and Camilla
On their belated marriage.
The Prince was overwhelmed
When he heard Motion’s
‘Spring Wedding.’
But all verses weren’t,
As we say in Germany:
Friede, Freude, Eierkuchen.
Motion’s ‘Cost of Life’ on Paddington,
‘Causa belli’ emphasised
Elections, money, empire,
Oil and Dad.
Themes and lyrics that bother us,
Day in and day out.
The rulers and battles won are expected
To be praised to Heaven,
Like Master Henry,
Ben Jonson et al have done
In 1668 John Dryden was sacked
Not for his bad verses,
But for changing his confession.
Sir Walter Raleigh and William Morris
Didn’t relinquish their freedom
And said politely: No thank you, Ma’am.
And with it a keg of wine
From the Canary Isles,
That could have been theirs.
Free literary productivity and court-poetry
Are strange bedfellows indeed.
In these times of gender-studies,l
Women’s quotes and emancipation,
It wouldn’t be far-fetched
If Carol Ann Duffy,
A Scottish poetess,
Became the next Poetess Laureate.
What a lass!
She’s openly gay,
Didn’t you say?
Has fire anyway.
What a thankless job:
A royal lyrical whisperer,
Striving for public relations
In poetry prize panels,
In the name of poetry.
A thankless job:
Take it
Or leave it.
* * *
GORDON STILL WALKING 2009 (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
‘I will not walk away,’
Said PM Gordon Brown.
His ministers had walked out on him.
Disgusted with his inner circle
Of soccer-fans
And other fads.
Manchester is United,
Labour isn’t.
Was he walking by a rule?
Mr. Brown ruled with two circles:
His soccer-crazy inner circle
With Ed Balls,
An outer one with grey mice.
He was walking down a lonely road,
It seemed.
When he walked in,
He walked into Blairites.
Gordon was walking into his political savings.
Could he steer Britain’s economy
Out of the big recession?
He walked his legs off,
Pleading to Labourites to stay.
It wasn’t a walk over
For Brown’s pride,
When ministers refuse to walk
Together with him,
After the debacle at the Euro polls.
He racked his brains,
Came up with a belated inquiry
Into the Iraq war,
To save his skin.
In a last bid he reshuffled
His cabinet cards:
Darling, Miliband and Balls
Held their jobs.
Gordon promoted:
Johnson, Jowell, Mandelson,
Cooper, Burham, Ham.
Eh, was it worth to promote Ainsworth?
A soap-opera supper,
Where guests prefer
To sit and walk out at will.
Gordon is certainly walking on air.
It’s become more a walk
On a razor’s edge.
If this silly Labour circus goes on
In Downing No. 10,
He is most likely to walk
On all fours.
The battle is lost,
Er steht auf verlorene Posten.
The rats have sprung overboard.
Councils like Lancashire, Derbyshire,
Stafford, Nottinghamshire
Have become Tory counties.
Labour lost 250,
Conservatives gained 217 seats.
Captain Brown remains adamant,
And runs his ship.
I’m afraid it’s not Trafalgar.
Perhaps Cap’n Bleigh?
He clutches his crutches
And mutters:
‘I will not walk away.’
Brown has a strategy:
He hopes to limp towards autumn,
Defying the wind against him.
Can he bend it like Beckham?
Captain Brown, still at the helm,
Insists: ‘I will not waver,
Or walk away.’
Britain doesn’t know:
Whether to be awed
Or amused.
And thereby hangs
A tale.
Drinking Darjeeling Tea in England 2008 (Satis Shroff, Freiburg)
Beware the Ides of March
Manchester will be a milestone
In Gordon Brown’s polit-life.
Your economic ‘competence’
Has become an Achilles heel,
Your weak point.
The people’s party of New Labour
Wants to get rid of you.
These are the rumours
Heard in the trendy streets of London.
Twelve months ago Gordon Brown
Was the Messiah of Brit politics,
After Blair’s disastrous role in the Labour.
Alas, the new Messiah
Lost his face,
Within a short time.
His weakness: decision making.
England is nervous, fidgety,
For Labour fears a possible loss,
Of its 353 Under House seats.
Above the English cabinet
Looms a Damocles sword.
Will Labour watch,
Drink Darjeeling,
Till a debacle develops?
Labour is in a dilemma.
Hush, help is near.
David Miliband is going vitriolic.
A silly season indeed,
Drinking Darjeeling tea in England.
About the Author:
Satis Shroff is based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) and also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Academy for Medical Professions (University Klinikum Freiburg) and the Center for Key Qualifications (University of Freiburg, where he is a Lehrbeauftragter for Creative Writing at the ZfS Uni Freiburg). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.
His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. He is a member of “Writers of Peace,” poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer.
Copyright © 2009, Satis Shroff. You may republish this article online provided you keep the byline, the author's note, and the active hyperlinks.
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Comment by Versatile on October 8, 2009 at 8:59am -
Honesty and realism
can you say that they are real for them,
them I say (man and woman)
can you say that they can be the one
for each other
building brick by brick
fairy tales on the rise
can a man be real with a woman
and her honest with no lies?
man not understanding the real
'cause it's never been experienced
honesty comes in last 'cause thats just how it has been
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Comment by Ivory on September 29, 2009 at 4:36am -
Stimulation
You stimulate my mind
and that all it takes
your words make me wanna taste your lips
feel your hands grab hold of my hips
its verbal intercourse, and you are the source of my desire
wish you could take me higher
elevate my body the way you do my mind
want you to take your time
wanna hear you whisper my name
while you hands glide over my frame
I can't keep my composure
you words drive me insane
Lets spark up together, admire the flame
with just a few hits, watch my mood changec
omfortable and calm, I'll reach for you
Instantly you'll know what i wanna do
Every touch intensifies
I pull you closer till your deep inside
Raise my hips high
bump and grind me till i cry
whisper in my ear, everything i wanna hear
constant stimulation...The addiction is so severe
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Comment by KIM HAFFORD on September 5, 2009 at 3:43am -
THE BLUES
MY VERSION
I BOUGHT A BIG HOUSE
YOU SAY WHAT IS THIS A SHACK
I TOOK OUT TO DINNER
AND YOU SAY THANKS FOR THE SNACK
I BOUGHT YOU A NEW CAR
AFTER YOU PAWNED THE CADILLAC
I GAVE YOU 2 CHILDREN
NOW YOU TELL ME TO OPEN MY LEGS SO YOU CAN PUT THEM BACK
OOOH I GOT THE BLUES
JUST SOME LOW DOWN BLUES
I THOUGHT YOU LOVE ME BABY
NOW I AM STANDING HERE LOOKING LIKE A FOOL.
I TOLD YOU I LOVE YOU
YOU SAY YEAH WHATEVER
I EVEN TRY TO MAKE LOVE TO YOU
YOU SAY I GOT A HEADACHE
I TRIED TO BE A GOOD WOMAN TO YOU
YOU SAY YOU CAN FIND BETTER
AFTER ALL I DONE FOR YOU
NOW YOU SAY THAT TRAMP IS A BETTER LOVER
OOOH I GOT THE BLUES
JUST SOME BROKEN HEART BLUES
I THOUGHT YOU LOVE ME BABY
NOW I KNOW YOU AINT NO GOOD.
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Comment by Renee Williams on July 21, 2009 at 4:36pm -
Looking for poets to participate in the first ever All the Buzz Open Mic Night.
Email me at renee@allthebuzzreviews.com if you are interested.
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Comment by BABy on July 18, 2009 at 6:23pm - Hello all I hope u enjoy what I have contributed i have enjoyed what I have read so far and will be back....smile
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Comment by KIM HAFFORD on May 11, 2009 at 11:19am
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ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR LOVE
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR TEARS
SHOW ME YOUR TRUE LOVE
SHARE WITH ME YOUR DREAMS
ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR SPIRIT
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR SOUL
SHARE WITH ME YOUR SECRETS
AND YOUR HEART, MIND, AND SOUL
ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR PASSION
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR KISS
AS WE KISSED SO PASSIONALY
WITH YOUR HANDS CARESSING MY HIPS
ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR LOVE
AS WE MADE LOVE UNCONDITIONLY
AND AS WE IN TWINE WITH EACH OTHERS LUST
YOU ENLIGHTEN ME WITH ALL OF YOUR THRUSH
AS I SHOW YOU MY LOVE
ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME WITH YOUR VOICE
AS IT SPEAKS SOFTLY TO ME
WHILE WE MAKING LOVE
UNTIL THE MORING LIGHT
AS WE LOOK AT THE SUN ABOVE
ENLIGHTEN ME
ENLIGHTEN ME AS WE PART
UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN
NOT ONLY WE SHOULD LOVERS
BUT ALSO THE BEST OF FRIENDS.
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Comment by Trev on May 2, 2009 at 10:10pm -
Embedded Web Games- Get Games For Your Site
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Comment by Angee ... The Poet on April 18, 2009 at 12:54pm -
AWC 09 - DAY ONE
2009 sees us here again
The second April Write looks forward to merging paper with pen
Typing at the computer everyday this month
I’m sure some of our social lives might take a little shunt
But coming out of it will be something good
Creatively mingling with different people
Way out of your local neighbourhood
Online communities, from near, far and world wide
National Poetry Month will help seal this divide
By bringing all writers and creative types together again
In with the tide, riding high on the crest of a pen
30 days of inspiration, motivation and much more
Helping you to express
Chucking the negativity out the door
30 days that will challenge us
Rise to the occasion don’t be a wuss
At the end of April we’ll be the ones
Satisfied like a milk-drinking puss
Share what we want, need and feel we have to say
While you are here, tell us what you think every day
Things can pass you by in a blink don’t you know
Document a time right here you can show
And share those feelings hidden deep inside
The AWC is a place in which you don’t have to hide
Be free to be creative
Be free to be who you are
Look up in the sky, don’t you see it…
We are all bright shiny unique stars
Follow the topic of the days’ first post,
With a few days of free verse
Let the AWC become your muse or even your nurse
On Day One tell us your hopes and your AWC dreams
Mean what you say and say what you mean
Come and all be welcomed
Respond passionately or read as you will
Enjoy your visit here my friends… Until…
(c) Angela Edgar 2009
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Comment by ChrissieMary-Anne on April 10, 2009 at 2:47am -
Whats there to see
when you stop believing in me
when all i did and do was help others
and then you set me free
What happen to us
where is it leading to
when all hope is fading
you stop seeing the light
once we stood still
everything was perfect and bright
You had to go
and left me alone
with just my memories
of how things used to be
when it was just you and me
Whats there to see
when you stop believing in me
when all i did and do was help others
and then you set me free
What happen to us
where is it leading to
when all hope is fading
you stop seeing the light
once we stood still
everything was perfect and bright
by Xhristine Mary Anne
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why obama wont get elected ,yes blacks do read seee
ANN COULTER Jonathan Livingston Obama I’ve caught Obama fever! Obamamania, Obamarama, Obama, Obama, Obama. (I just pray to God this is clean, renewable electricity I’m feeling.) Only white guilt...
Started by wizthom in Politics Aug. 15, 2008.
Time To Save Our Children 7 Replies
LET THEM KILL ONE ANOTHER by: David W. Johnson, Jr. Why should our enemies care if we rob and kill one another If we destroy one another, it saves them from having to do it African Americans, wake...
Started by David W. Johnson, Jr. in Social Leaders. Last reply by David W. Johnson, Jr. Aug. 18, 2008.
There's Self-Publishing Wealth In Your Future
Hi Everyone! Finally, what we promised is ready!!! Self-publishing Your Way to Wealth. It is in your future because it is a positive impact in the lives of those you touch. It overpowers inflation...
Tagged: resources, succeed., success, teleseminar, ebook
Started by Martha Tucker in General Discussions Jun. 23, 2008.
Win A Book: Meet Author Ivan Wright Here at The Urban Book Lounge 3 Replies
Join Author Ivan Wright on his virtual book tour! Ivan will be available on The People's Lounge ( Urban Book Lounge) for questions June 9th - 15th Those of you who have enjoyed his first nove...
Tagged: Book-Marketing, Publicity, Author-Promotion, Mystery-Books, Black-Authors
Started by Dawnny Ruby Platinum Book PR in General Discussions. Last reply by Dawnny Ruby Platinum Book PR Jun. 16, 2008.
iTunes Top 10 SPOKEN WORD. Click to visit the Apple iTunes Store to view the rest or buy your favorites!
7. Gabriel Iglesias - Gabriel Iglesias
Gabriel Iglesias by Gabriel Iglesias from the album The Best of Loco Comedy Jam Vol 11. You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch - Thurl Ravenscroft
You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch by Thurl Ravenscroft from the album How the Grinch Stole Christmas2. All I Want for Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth) - Spike Jones
All I Want for Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth) by Spike Jones from the album Greatest Hits9. Kip Addotta - Wet Dream - Dr. Demento
Kip Addotta - Wet Dream by Dr. Demento from the album 20th Anniversary Collection: The Greatest Novelty Records of All Time3. Who’s On First - Abbott & Costello
Who’s On First by Abbott & Costello from the album Who's On First6. I Have a Dream - Washington DC 8/28/63 - Martin Luther King Jr.
I Have a Dream - Washington DC 8/28/63 by Martin Luther King Jr. from the album Greatest Speeches of All Time, Vol. 14. Pioneers! O Pioneers! - "Birds of Passage" - The University Players
Pioneers! O Pioneers! - "Birds of Passage" by The University Players from the album Selections from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass8. Welcome Christmas (Reprise) - The Who Village Choir
Welcome Christmas (Reprise) by The Who Village Choir from the album How the Grinch Stole Christmas5. They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-haaa! - Napoleon XIV
They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-haaa! by Napoleon XIV from the album The Second Coming10. There Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa! - Dr. Demento
There Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa! by Dr. Demento from the album 20th Anniversary Collection: The Greatest Novelty Records of All Time© The People's Lounge. All rights reserved.
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