A fieldsman paddling a boat in the night
Disperse a net in the manner of a hope
Arrester contented arrested ten fishes

Mindful of aglow fine painting of warm lover
The fieldsman stood before his love lady
Warm paramour, I cappled hold ten fishes

A houseboat mounted on the wave surface
The boat tethered within pillar of baluster
The place for the lady scratched off the net

A request crooned in the meanwhile of a hum
Would you like to catch four lobsters for me
The petition is too beautiful to be not acceded

The fieldsman squeezed on the coral island
The bluffs' puncture tears the skin till the bones
Four lobsters grassped tightly in his grasp

The fieldsman ready to bet his life for four lobsters
Within a hope, the lady love will treat the injury
He clamoured, paramour i catched four Lobsters

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Singing in the Terezin,
Hearing the pain.
Old memories surface
Within the sea of tears.
Every laugh, every smile,
Remembered within their fears.

Holocaust pain,
Infiltrated our brains;
So deep in our hearts,
They will never apart.
Our tears have dried,
Rose with the light,
Yearning for the fight.

Screams are Heard Outside, and Everyone was Scared.

Traveling to our deaths, the

Remainders of memories of Home

Aare cherished

In the midst of

Never ending fears.

Getting locked up, Holocaust only caused Everyone pain, Tears, homesick and fears, Trying to stay alive, Our hearts shedding tears.

we did this on Language arts class…we were learning about the Holocaust, it was so sad, the whole class was gloomy..

acrostic ghetto Holocaust poem terezin

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we are holographic fragments of the great central infinity sky being….
wherever we are, if we raise our hands-antennas, we materialize
the highness' spectra
We are part of the unknown that sonorizes, the
presence of breathing…
Wherever we are, we rise the inner flight if we want…there's the
bridge that raises the hands towards the highness of the own being
as if the sky and the clouds was corporeal paintings, as in days of indigenous
and paganist reverence gatherings…
we are the dance when it's about to born….said the one who suddenly
started to dance ……and never stopped dancing……..

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Checking e-mail has its ups and downs.  Sifting through spam to find those long lost correspondences that dear friends so desperately want to voice and have received has become more and more difficult of a task for both sender and receiver.  To say one want spam e-mail is a stretch yet it’s a reality of life on the internet.

What do you do when you have lemons?  Well, of course you make lemonade.  Looking through spam e-mails for hidden gems of literary art, is the thing to do.  Those jumbled prose that make sense yet have a random poetry about them.  Spoems can become beautiful poems, meaningful anecdotes at times.  Once again, they can be fun too.  Look forward to all of your e-mails again.  Don’t let the spammers steal ones joy.  Spoems.com is the place to highlight your spam poetry.  Is there a Spoet in you?

Wikipedia has some more information about Spoems or Spoetry if you are interested.    You can learn how to submit your works to Spoems.com here: Submit Spoems.

 

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