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Funny Write Poems | Funny Poems About Write

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Details | Narrative | |

Call Me Gonzo

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
stale.
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.


Details | Rhyme | |

I wish I was a poet

I wish  I was a poet
a surgeon of verse many would know it
how do they express the sublime
with graceful words that don't even rhyme
it's amazing how they do it
I marvel at the beauty of a poem's spirit
maybe I could even write a  poem
should it be jagged or should I flow it
I don't know I'm trying to think
I'm getting closer I'm on the brink
here it goes, it may be lame
but I write this poem just the same
the words aren't graceful, yes I know it
I'm  still wishing I was a poet


Details | Quatrain | |

4 in less than forty

                           1 

Have to be somewhere in 40 mins
Enough time to write at least one
Fortunately I’m not using and pens
Else I would not be close to done

Of course you see the form I write
One familiar yet still complicated
It should be easy I write every night
Why my poems are often post dated

Halfway there only three minutes gone
Can I write eleven of these in my time
Maybe but could I post them all as well
Not sure, but I wouldn’t even bet a dime

The last I didn’t rhyme of first and third
I will admit I normally will rhyme abab
But in my amount of time that’s absurd
I am trying to finish quickly as you see

                             2

I already finished one how about another
The next line already in my head of course
Now you are probably saying o brother
This guy is a distinct body member of a horse

Really it’s just practice and having a bit of fun
I am definitely bored at this very early hour
I’m also texting a friend here and think of pun
I’d tell her what I think, but she might be sour

The last of course was purely a joke my friend
No evil thoughts currently in my head Miss PD
I at present, do not have that emotion to lend
Or maybe it was serious the last stanza hehehe

This is so much fun, a great way to pass time
You should try it, if you would possibly dare
I have said time a million times in my rhyme
Take time reading them, go ahead and stare


Details | Rhyme | |

Words

                                       All these words inside my head
                                           drive me crazy while in bed.
                                       They will dance inside my brain
                                         and fall down like pouring rain

                                             When I try to dress for work
                                          down the hallway they will lurk.
                                           When I leave and drive my car
                                          on every signpost there they are.

                                            What this soul now has to do
                                         is write down these words for you.
                                         Taking pen and pad in hand I'll
                                            write down what they demand.

                                          When it's over and all done and
                                          these words have had there fun.
                                            They will leave me then to rest
                                                              untill,,,,,,,,
                                                        one day.........................
                                                       you know the rest,,,,,,,,,......
                                                ........................................................


Details | Rhyme | |

Stupid poem... lol lol lol it really makes no sense but oo well

I want to write a funny poem, one without meaning
So that everytime you read it, your going to start peeing 

It will make you laugh
think of Giraffes

Possibly fart 
and eat a pop-tart

Who knows maybe you will cry
only because its so dumb it's funny but you dont know why

This poem will talk about gypsies and snickers
maybe nerds who are nose pickers

Or maybe Chuck Norris 
OMG did you know he drives a ford tauras

Who knows, maybe this poem could be famous
or maybe people might call me an ignoramous

Oh well, this poem I write one day will be awesome
Im thinking about even including a possum

His name will be Gerald
Omg HE IS PREGNANT NO>... NOT WILL FERRELL

Anyway Gerald will love snickers and chuck norris
Gerald will also get into a fight with a taurtus..

Scratch all that, that was not funny
Im just going to write about the Trix bunny


Details | Free verse | |

Vagenius

(Show me the funny, part two)
------------------------------------------

Are you a Lesbian?
 Gynecologist?
 Did you major in the art of female anatomy and minor in multiple orgasms?
 Do you know all seven erogenous zones like the back of your hand?
 Then you may qualify as a Vagenius!
 But don't get too cocky now
 Just because you studied doesn't mean you'll do well on the test. 
 I've met so many people who can talk game but can't deliver. 
 I can't tell you how many times I've had to fake it just so I could finish the dishes instead. 
 Throw some moves at me! 
 Take my clothes off with your teeth.
 Turn me the **** on!
 Now you may be thinking that you can pass the test but please hold your horses because I've only met one Vagenius in my life. (Point to yourself)
 I'm not going to go to the Adam and Eve store just so you can grunt loud and thrust hard while I don't feel a thing, I'll save the crotchless panties and lingerie for my vibrator. 
 And no you can't use a cock ring so that you'll have more time to try to make me cum. 
 And please don't get all sentimental and touchy feely about it. This is a test, you’re not trying to convince me to be your girlfriend. Save the kisses for the wife. 
 So come into my bed and I'll tell you if you’re a true Vagenius.



Details | Ode | |

Ode 2 My Poetry

Why can’t I do it how I want to do it?
Been told my rhymes are simplistic at best
I may violate pentameter but I write what I like
Why must it pass some journal’s vapid test?

Behind a block of writer’s I’ve been hiding
Cowed by thoughts of editing snafus
Trying to write deep, intensive tomes of valid lore
Only to be chastened and abused

There’s elegance found in concise expression
Saying all the world in just a line
No matter that I know this I belabor all my thoughts
Create an elegy for elegance in time

Onomatopoeia is my best friend
And alliteration waltzes through my dreams
Thoughts chatter, clatter, chirp and clunk around about my head
Demanding that they be released in streams

And after I have done what I have done here
Exposed my heart by opening my head
I send it forth with hope that someone will enjoy my words
And get rejection letters in their stead

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
I promise it won’t be a trite conceit
You say my writing’s convoluted, so, I strive to simplify it
Then you call my writing sophomoric and cheap

Yet still my writing exists, remonstrating
That whether it be ballad or blank verse
It should be able to do just exactly what it feels like
And it finds you and your editing, perverse

It says it does not care if it is published
Doesn’t want you to consider it profound
For if you did then it might accidentally be common
And make cool people like me put it down

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
At the very least try to be noncommittal


Details | Rhyme | |

Shakespeare Doesn't Like Your Emo Poems

I had a cat name snowball
she died!
she died!

my mom said she was at the vet
she lied!
she lied!

....

Just Kidding!


Oh no!
Look at this joe
Face on the desk cause he's writing so low
Lifted his head and what did I see:

Oh wah! wah! wah!
Mommy didn't love me!

Saw another girl and her mouth was so cringe
Seem like the pen in her hand wasn't able to unhinge
and I walk passed her and saw some or her words:

life is so lonely
I want to blow some coke
father doesn't know me
people think i'm a joke

Holy ghost and holy spirit!
Why are people so sad?
I thought the guy was A.D.D ing
And the chick was on her rag

I understand that life ain't full of win
But just loathing in it is as bad as a sin!

Cutt-ing yourself
Drink-ing to death
Bin-ging on drugs

So you could feel that "close"
That out of body experience where you leave that "ghost"

Grabb-ing a pen
leave-ing a note
Commit-ing a suicide

If I read more of this depressing stuff I think I will cry!

Listen love
go and feel pain
So your girlfriend dumped you
Then go to the strip club and make it rain!

Uh-oh girl
just lost your job
so now your broke
So go out and shake your ass for some handsome bloke!

I understand if you
get upset
have regret
and want your life to be pushed for reset

but when you go through that you
grow up more
see to explore
find out that you could high again sore!

So write me a love poem with no break up
Write me a story of that one day of endless luck
Give me a riddle where the cow goes mooo
That's right be silly!
Shakespeare doesn't like your emo poems!
I wouldn't too!






ps: hey guys! it's late! and the later it gets the weirder i get!(well it's 3am for me, 
idk what time it is for y'all) :D
anywho we all have written our share of emo poems ( i know i have!
heck i still do!) I just couldn't help myself to write this, especially since 
my motivation was a shirt i saw that actually said "Shakespeare doesn't
like your emo poems." ( with picture of Will annoyed as heck XD)
...
no not Will Smith :p


Details | Free verse | |

Self PORTRAIT

I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide

I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight

My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign  
I twirl my hair and make it bend 
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends

As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin

The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions

I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane

Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed

The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair 
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose

I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key

It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore




Details | Rhyme | |

Busy Busy Busy

I'm far too busy can't you see
Too busy to write poetry
So please forgive this silly rhyme
I really do not have the time
To write an epic verse or three
I'm far too busy can't you see

So many things I have to do
And all by yesterday, it's true
Then as the day comes to a close
I collapse into a chair and doze
And if I dream more poetry
I'll place it here for you to see

Before this day comes to it's end
I'll give you some advice my friend
Use every moment that's the key
I'm far too busy can't you see?




Thanks for the inspiration - you know who you are :)


Details | I do not know? | |

Without You I Am Lost

My friends at poetrysoup 
Keep pushing me on
I stop to take a deep breath 
And Daniel Larson might say "What's next"

I'll write about a bird, a sea gull 
Circling our Wyoming earth
Vince Suzadail Jr. might comment
"Come on you can do better than that" 

Alright the buffalo outside my door
John Loving III might say
"Him again "
"We've heard of him before"

I'll write about my rocks
And Carol Brown might say
"Come on give us something
To knock our sox off"

Bob Hinton said, "Best to you"
But wait were those the words
Or was it 
"At least try to do your best"

Karen O'Leary said, "I Missed you
Hope you had a wonderful holiday and_"
Here I held my ears,
I didn't want to disappoint her, and I wiped my tears.

Mike Falatico, Jimbo Goff
Christie Mills and Earl Brown too
They all work so hard
And I talk about the zoo

I love you all, You are my family and friends
Or I would never have tried to write
This silly little poem 
And not worry about being sued

But your encouragement 
Helps to move me on 
Without your honest words
I'd not get any enjoyment from my works.

Cile Beer

I really do get encouragement from your comments. 
And I try to do my best to help keep our poetrysoup family
strong. Thanks for all your help. God Bless, Cile


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?


Details | Free verse | |

Three Inch Cliches

The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the 
NO
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after 
The virgin vernacular 
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.


Details | Clerihew | |

Some Clerihews to make Jack Laugh or scoff

Jack Ellison wasn't from Nantucket
I read prose that his cleaning lady had a nice bucket
But he vowed to look in silence quite as a mouse
For fear of sleeping in the perpetual doghouse

PD, appears and disappears like whoodini
I have seen the poems where she's a meanie
She also wrote about trading seeds for a donkey
She could have just as easily traded seeds for her monkey

Thephilosopher, what a silly nick indeed
He would trade if he only had a seed
A good monkey he could certainly use
Or would the ass he choose?

I would write about a Star I once knew
But from sight has she flew
Entering contest after contest without fail
A questionable close here could lead to hell

Wayland Bunch mentioned afore
He often rambles and can bore
His idea of humor often misconstrued
If he were a famous writer he'd be sued

There is a poet here named gigno
What is up with him though
Commenting with three exclamations
Does he think they equal explanations?

The Gaijin, clerihew after clerihew he did write
He gave up being Haijin, mostly out of spite
Who wants to write only three lines of poetry, he mopes
Haikus are for dopes              (haha, that one should draw some attention)

He's called NietzscheThePhilosipher on Mocospace
Beware moco is a dirty dirty place
He went there often just to chat
But found out that perversion was the welcome mat

The boy from Texas wasn't scared though
He heard much worse, although he says it aint so
One time or two he wrote a clerihew
Becareful lest the next clerihew be about you

He read Jack's quatrains almost everday
They were medicine to the soul he would say
Maybe vodka to the inhibitions explains it best
If not, he'll just drink the vodka and forget the rest

I think I should mention Linda once more
I won't even write what you think, I don't need the war
I live by peace for all, that's the key
What happens if this last line contains piece and monkey (hahahaha)


Details | Sonnet | |

THE LIFE OF A DRUNKEN WRITER

They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense; 
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar. 
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun... 
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.   
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! " 
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "


Details | Narrative | |

Office of the Vice Poem

The Vice Poem shall serve,
without regard to need
or time of day,
being in line of succession,
should the Poem be 
unable to fulfill its ditty

The Vice Poem will be 
required to preside 
over the sonnet
and break any ties
that come upon it

As is customary,
the Vice Poem shall be
required once a term
to debate the opposition
on the respective merits
of poetry versus prose

The Vice Poem shall
be sent, on a moments notice
to travel wide and far
to deliver the eulogy
for dead, leading authors,
and to do so with euphony

The Vice Poem can
anticipate being the object
of scorn and ridicule
from the wider citizenry
regarding the merits of 
being a second rate poem 
while anticipating to
someday achieve eloquence

© Goode Guy 2013-01-21


Details | Clerihew | |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.


Details | Couplet | |

My Country Song

I think I'll write a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'
We'd have been married thirty years today
if he hadn't had a penchant to stray.

I got the pickup truck, so we'll leave that part out
but there's lots of other things I can whine about.
I can hit a few notes on this guitar of mine,
now I need to come up with some catchy line.

Country songs need to have a refrain,
something so catchy it'll stick in your brain.
They're all about liars and cheaters and such
and cheapskate dates who want to go dutch.

I'll make a fortune when my song's a hit.
My inspiration was my ex the ....jerk?
Yes, I think I'll write me a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'.

I'll put in a verse about socks on the floor,
then casually mention his red-headed .... friend?
Maybe I'll say that he broke my heart
I'm still not quite sure where to start.

Most of what I write may even be true.
I could mention his cologne smells like... aqua velva?
Yes, I'm sure I can write one if I try.
It'll hit the charts and from there just fly.

I know I can write a country song.
Anyone can when they've lived this long.
We all have something twangy and sad,
something good in our past that turned out bad.


* any resemblence to actual events is purely coincidental

** and thanks Nancy for the blog that inspired this


Details | I do not know? | |

The kitchen sink

(Only the first line of this poem is true.)

I've written poems about everything but the kitchen sink.
I write so much that it hurts when I think.
I'd write some more but my pen is out of ink.
I'm the only man in my town who wears a mink.
Don't mess with me, I don't take sass.
If you tell anybody about my mink, I'll kick your ___.


Details | Rhyme | |

How Many Times

I've read and read, and read it thrice
and each and every time
I found one missed spelled word or more
Hidden in the lines
And though I proof read once again
Once again I goofed 
And if I have too, once again 
I'll go right through the roof


Details | Rhyme | |

Welcome 2 Stupidity

I wanna write a poem,
Ideas are fairly dead;
As I lie here in my boxers,
Stupidity enters instead!

I'll share a word with my pup,
Discuss our vibrant laws;
I'll ask why I have fingers,
And why I can't have paws!

Maybe I'll lie beneath the sun,
Or roll in the morning soil;
Perhaps duke it out with Popeye,
For the rights to Olive Oyl!

Shall I leap from a mountain top?
Bounce upon a turtle's shell;
Run naked along the highway,
I'm desperate, what the hell?!

I'll grab my funky bicycle,
Ride to the dollar store;
Buy a pack of gummie worms,
And chew 'til my cheeks are sore!

If I could go diving,
In an ocean far beneath;
I'd fight a drunken octopus,
And kiss a great white's teeth!

I'll flirt with a horny walrus,
Play chess with a chimpanzee;
Go fifteen rounds with a kangaroo,
And pretend I'm Muhammad Ali!

I wanna write a poem so bad,
Stupidity's what I fear;
I'll "sleep off" the tequila,
By dawn, all thoughts should be clear!


Details | Rhyme | |

Poemmania Anonymous

.......................................................................................................................................


Oh mercy, mercy!! Set me free! Poemmania flu is after me! Another contest…. which one to choose? Will mine win, or will it lose !? Another topic, another form Did I enter this one before? If I hurry and write my rhyme I just might post, in nick of time! Meeting deadlines, reading rules.... It seems, sometimes, I’m back in school! Never mind how good it is,…. I’ll write it fast, and click “submit”! Where, oh where, did my muse go? When all my poems were valued views? Contests, contests, (my new addiction) Causing me some contradictions Time is precious,… with things to do, But cannot leave, my eyes are glued! The challenge is a main attraction How to break this chain reaction? How to break my Soup addiction? And the endless competition? Oh…goodie goodie!!…Well, I declare!! Contest list has more to share Two new sponsors, starting theirs! It’s like a monkey on my back Poemmania flu is on attack!!
...........................................................................................................................


Details | Limerick | |

Poetry Soup Guffaws

My Soup friends are out of sight
When I’m lonely in the night
Their poems I read
And come up to speed
And everything seems alright

Poems in shapes and sizes
Poets in different guises
Some are really hot
Their words hit the spot
So welcome to the prizes!!

Some write of nature and plants
Though not one about the ants 
Some hot body parts
Some mention the arts
While others write raves and rants

Each has a story to tell
Most poets are really swell 
Some write about sex
Their great big "dog" Rex
Or how love has turned to hell!

There are lots of contests too
One’s sure to appeal to you
Footles may be fun
Word games and a pun
I stick to the tried and true

I cannot write on demand
Or my muse will have me canned
I write what I feel
And that is my deal
But well wishes to this band! 

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Narrative | |

live action

live action!

get your live action poem,
that comes with ACTUAL live lines!
- like this one right here!

just like the ones from
real live action books!

and characters based on
real live human beings with 
articulating lines and accents
to pose them any way you like!

complete with realistic outfits
and potential story lines
for you to write along with,

and scenery from ALL
four seasons AND 
exotic locations too!

includes genuine poetic words
stacked ends at end 
for you to build your own
true rhyming poems!

here is a stack of
sample words 
for you to try:

night		prime	 friend	
sight		time	 	pretend	
alright	sublime	penned	
		
each comes in a wide array
of colors and mediums!

collect all of 'em!
GET yours TODAY!*

* not sold in stores

© Goode Guy 2012-12-02


Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")


Details | I do not know? | |

A Nonsensical Scribble

A Nonsensical Scribble



Vivid colours,
straining, yearning,
closeted between hues,

weaving tapestries,
flowing through shades,
dissolving my swirling blues.



Rainbows merge,
singing plaintive dirges,
etched on dusty rough sleeves

urgent scribbles,
humming notes of woe,
hurriedly embossed on fallen leaves.



Melodies quicken,
words entombed in mouths,
fading, trapped in emerald green,

seizing dreamscapes,
blurring glimpses of truth,
slipping between visions unseen.



My heartbeat gallops,
committing ink to paper,
donning a smile blatantly comical,

I catch myself napping,
stirred by a nagging realisation,

the scribbles, much like the scribbler,
seem to be, quite humourlessly nonsensical.









Details | Verse | |

A Riddle


I am who I am I can tip toe through a Dancing on Ice routine While Reaching for the stars I might be the patent, keen, Steve, Asics or rocket dog However I have a sole that flatten the lawn I suppose that’s my A contribution You smiled at me The first time we met Not to forget Flamboyant Dexter threatening words “I am going to retire You Unless you go with my holiday attire” Who am I?


Details | Free verse | |

In Search of Words that Rhyme

I can never think up rhyming words
When I write my stupid poems
All the other words have a place to live
But the rhyming ones have no abode

To other poets it comes so easy
Penning rhyming words that sound just right
But I can never find the rhyming mate
Though I try all day and evening

So this desire to be a poet
For me is just a curse
And all the poems that I eventually write
I just have to label them free form

So if you have a few extra rhyming words
Spinning around inside your head
Could you share a few of them with me
So I can write a poem before I’m deceased


Details | Quatrain | |

In Defense of my Romantic Poetry

I’m a hopeless romantic
Now please cut me some slack
Yes, there’s more to this life
Than love’s beaten track

I just can’t write about fish
And I can’t write of the farm
I can’t write about frogs
For me that holds not a charm

I can’t write about wars
And I can’t write about keys
I can’t write of history
Go easy on me, please!

Yes, I guess I’m limited
Stuck in mediocrity
I’m trying to be diverse
It falls flat, can’t you see? 

So I write tales of love
And I write about passion
Can’t write about trends
Or the latest fashion

I write about suicide
And I write of addiction
I write about my life
Not some sort of fiction

I write about my daughter
And I write about hubby
I write how much I suffer
To be thin and not chubby

I write about God
And I write about heaven
But can’t write about 9
Much less about seven

So please hear what I say
What you all write is grand
It’s just not my way
I’m stuck in love’s brand

I’m cheesy, I’m sappy, 
Dripping with goo and such
But this hopeless romantic
Loves your poems so much!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Limerick | |

Inspiration Hibernation

What happened to my inspiration
Is causing me great perspiration
My mind is a blank
No one can I thank
For my creative hibernation

© 2013 Rick Zablocki


Details | Rhyme | |

Romantic Mush

Folks who know me are aware that I seldom write romantic mush.
Such saccharine verse is alien to me and causes me to blush!
But just this once I'll paraphrase some verse upon which you may muse.
Perhaps it'll arouse your curiosity, but as to its source I'll provide no clues!

"Ah!  How beautiful you are, my darling, there is no flaw in you!
My heart begins to pound for you - my head is drenched with dew!
Your breasts are like two fawns - like the twin fawns of a gazelle!
How beautiful you are with your delights that I know so very well!"

"You are as fair as the moon and stars, your smile brightens the dawn!
Your temples are like pomegranate halves my precious sprightly fawn!
Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftsman's hands!
Thy lilting voice is as melodic as a legion of celestial bands!"

"Your lips are like a lovely ribbon and so lovely is your mouth!
Thy arms that embrace me are like a gentle zephyr from the south!
You have stolen my heart with but one glance from thy limpid eyes!
You are as graceful as the majestic eagle as it soars through pristine skies!"

"You lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my precious bride!
How I long to have you forever more walking at my side!"
'Tis beyond this mortal to write such mush or any like it thereof!
Check out Solomon's Song of Songs for more such lurid tales of love!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Quatrain | |

Writer's Block

I tried to write a poem,
A little while ago,
But I couldn't find the muse,
The words just wouldn't flow.

I started with the standard stuff,
A poem or some prose.
But inspiration left me dry,
The floodgates all were closed.

So next I tried my hand at rhyme,
The nursery kind for tykes.
But all that came was trite and lame,
The kind that no kid likes.

Then after that I tried to pen
A couple lines free-verse,
But that attempt completely failed;
Results were even worse.

Thus, at the frayed end of my rope
I tried just one last time,
A limerick, I thought, was in my grasp;
Alas, it did not rhyme.

So that's the end.  I'll write no more.
My inspiration's flown.
I couldn't write to save my life.
My creative mind is blown.


Details | Limerick | |

One For Kicks

I know a bird who sways and swings
He jumps and kicks and flaps his wings
He cannot fly in stormy weather
He cannot strut his fluffy feathers
So instead he sits and sings.


Details | Free verse | |

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day dear friend,
I hope you're having fun,
I can't buy you candy,
Nor can I buy you gum.
I can write a poem,
It's all I can do,
And when I write this poem,
I'll give it to you.
Most folks want a Valentine,
I just want a friend,
One who'll stick with me forever,
Even to the end.
And so, in this last stanza,
I'll end this poem to say,
I hope you're having fun,
On this Valentine's Day.


Details | Rhyme | |

Writing A Poem

I'm supposed to write a poem thats funny,
If I could only write to make some money.
Should I write about something scary and gory,
Or should I portray a nice love story?
The ideas swimming in my head are like a boat,
which unfortunately now is no longer afloat.
The words of choice, no longer to be seen,
Thanks in part to my computer screen.
Rhyming can sometimes be a piece of cake,
But I've thought for too long and got a headache.
I've always loved to write poems that rhyme,
but I can't right now - its past my bedtime.
Maybe in the morning, I can think of something new.
After I fix a pitcher of ice tea to brew.
Then perhaps words and thoughts will be dancing around,
And I will make sure to write them down.
A rough draft will be sketched on paper and pad,
Because memory loss is a problem for this forty year old lad.
Well, I didn't write about any terrible stuff,
Just how writing a poem can be very tough.
Poetic rhyming to the mind is such a toy,
But one which I hope you did enjoy.
Soon my words will all be forgot,
So please let me know what you thought.
It seems as if my poem must come to an end,
But I want to thank you, my reader and friend.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Twisted Lullaby A bedtime poem not for kids

Sleep, sleep my little ones, 
Stay in bed until the rising sun. 
 
Go to sleep and drift off to the places, 
Where the monsters can’t chew off your faces. 

If you make noise they’ll know you’re awake, 
Then they’ll know which kids they can take. 

Sleep, sleep my little ones, 
Stay in bed until the rising sun. 

The monsters can’t get to you while you sleep, 
Then the neighbor’s kids they’ll have to eat. 

All night the monsters crouch by your bed, 
Waiting to see the eyes in your head. 

Sleep, sleep my little ones, 
Stay in bed until the rising sun. 

You used to have an older sister, 
Since she’s been gone we’ve really missed her. 

She wouldn’t sleep when it was time, 
It was such a shameful crime. 

Sleep, sleep my little ones, 
Stay in bed until the rising sun. 

Can you believe that it’s getting so late? 
You’ve brushed your teeth, well that’s just great. 

Now jump into bed and say your prayers, 
But keep an eye on those teddy bears.

Someone had asked me to write a nice little children’s lullaby for their kids and I told them that I try to be a little more subversive with my poems but they pressed me and so I did write them a nice poem. It was too sweet so to get it out of my system I wrote them this one also. Putting the world back into balance.


Details | Free verse | |

Hail to the Dragon Slayers

We know we are right and we will fight
If you dare appose us we will bite
When good doers think they have a chance
We take their idea and we do the dance
We are the law that makes the choice
And no one can keep their face in a good poise
Because we will smack them with a hammer
As we see them we will make them stammer
Just because we are justice
And we try to do some odd practice
Now we will get back on track
We the people take charge and attack
Wait, what are we attacking? the people that are not right
Oh! thats just my brothers and sisters oh! they are a sight
Now look here, we, we the people makes laws
It doesn't matter how many people open their jaws
I'm all confused, we are the people, did we not choose?
We are, but certain people are just to loose

Fine, this is what the new law we want to appose
Why? because we are confused about what we chose
Using we as a word is to many
It takes all of us even granny
So this is what we want to do, is put I and you separate
And the other that we are to choose to elaborate
I am going to say this, we are to many individuals
So we separate the ones who are good doers
That does not make sense
To put all the yous and I's in a group, it's just dense
Are you with me? no I am with myself in this
I am going to rub it in your face and be in a bliss
So I will do the justice myself, and you has decide to disobey
This is what I mean to do, and it will be O.K.
Debating myself is some what kinda weird
You need to be by my side because we make choices better
So this time you and I will just make justice a letter

The clue is what we do that is some what true
It's funny when words play a game to argue the virtue
When I mean I, I mean I, and when I say you, it is you
When I say we, it is us, and that is what my argument is all about, too.
Fifty, fifty is what the Dragon Slayer is saying, it becomes no greater nor smaller
We are all at fault and our decisions that we have made is for all of us to stand taller
Even when it is wrong and we do things to put down the strong
And our arguments become pointless and long
Our justice is when we started to put it on paper and making it a law that stand
So all of us, in the long run will simply decide to band





Details | Rhyme | |

She loved her adverb more than me

My wife has left me for an adverb.
I don't know which one it is!
Is it slowly,quickly, nearly?
Life should not be like a quiz.

She told me that she "nearly" loved me,
When "dearly" was what I had hoped.
Life is full of lost illusions...
How do we 'reaved lovers cope

I think I should have kept it secret,
For now I sit and sadly grieve.
Do you think my wife is cruel?
What a strange excuse to leave!

Would she leave me for a pronoun?
Would she leave for a full stop?
Would I leave you for a quote mark?
Would I fall down in a black dot?

Come back,darling for I love you.
I have learned I must take care.
I will go for grammar lessons.
I am sure I can learn flair!

We can write a poem together,
You can choose the topic,dear.
I will hold my pen and write for
They say true love drives out fear.

Did I fear her? Did I love her?
Was she worthy of my heart?
Did she dislike my hairy nostrils?
Was that why we had to part?

Come back Mary,come back Mavis.
Come back Sunny, come back Sue
Without my wife I feel so lonely.
What is a left man to do?

Shall I vote for love or money?
Shall I throw my self away?
Shall I get a new agenda?
Will a new life start today?

Come back Miriam,come back Sarah!
Where have all the women gone?
Come back Rivka with your grammar.
I can feed you a cheese scone.

I work hard and I can cook.
I put fresh linen on the bed.
I can pay my bills in full.
But without my Love,my heart is dead


Details | Rhyme | |

nine

There are many things of which I could  write
Love, Time, Hope, Poetry, another five just in spite
Two of these prevail in almost all my work
To write again about them I’d be a jerk
Nine the goal seems in a way very vain
But word after word I write again and again
Look keeping a form is nothing new to me
For sonnet after sonnet did I write almost exclusively
This Nine by Nine structure I have completed evenly
 


Details | Free verse | |

Am I a poet

I’d like to think I’m poet,
but I don’t write songs

I’d like to think I’m writer,
but I don’t write stories.

I’d like to think that people think I’m a poet or a writer,
but they don’t!

So what I’m gonna do?

I’m gonna write story in a song,
but not too long,
I’m not crazy,
I know I’m lazy.
I don’t want to waste too much of my time,
to make some rhyme.

In that short song, I’m gonna tell them that they are wrong, that I just wrote a song.

You’re wrong!
I just wrote a song!


Details | Free verse | |

Trying My Hand at a Poem That Doesn't Rhyme

I think that I’ll try to write one of those poems that doesn’t rhyme,
The poems that I like to write tend to rhyme all the time.
Oops, not a very good start.

Be creative. Be descriptive.

Use flower scented words that escape from the reader’s strawberry stained lips like soft 
snowflakes on a still winter morn and hang in the air like a single feathery sword from the 
deliciously soft down pillow on grandmother’s feather bed after a playful tussle with my 
angelic son.

Oh yeah, that works … Not.

A subject. I need a subject.
Think, think, think.

Something that would be interesting to read. Or something that is witty and funny – laughter 
is always good. Or something that makes people think and ponder and put their finger to 
their chin and go, “Mmmmm”.

I usually read these kind of poems and can’t figure them out,
I am left wondering what the heck I just read about.

Hey, that rhyme was a mistake – it happened on its own.
Oh, who am I kidding, I can’t write this kind of poem!

It’s hard being old-fashioned. But, hey, that’s who I am. Besides, no one ever reads my 
poems anyway. I’ll bet you are not even reading it now.

So much for the witty humor – bet you didn’t even notice it.

Oh well, think I’ll go write a poem – one that rhymes.


Details | Sonnet | |

Bone Tired

Then carefully she pushed the den back door
And stepped into the messy strewn day room
Dog bones, plates, cracker crumbs slung on the floor
All it would take is a few sweeps of broom

But__she was tired just bone tired of cleaning
Picking up strewn this and that, folding clothes
It seemed to be a life of no meaning
Maybe I'll write some polyphonic prose

"She sells seashells by the summer seashore"
That's not mine but maybe I can write too
Chihuahua can't chew gum chewings a chore
Can you write one or don't you have a clue

Now my tireness is gone no memory
Of that worrying about backstory

maintenant termine'


Details | I do not know? | |

What should I do

I could cry or let the world get me down
But that would let it win I am to strong for that
I think I will go into town
And get a new hat

Or maybe I should write a pome or sonnet
On life and love
Make it funny heart felt or about a dog in a bonnet
Maybe some gray doves

It really is not important what I do
Or how I spend my day
As long as I don't let it make me blue
I know it will all be Okay

I can sing write or just watch tv
As long as I have hope it will be fine
And your here with me
Maybe I should drop some old friends a line

I really could do just about anything
Cause today I have faith in the world
I can do everything
I am a girl


Details | Free verse | |

Fears

Walking up to the circulation desk,
books in one hand
library card in the other
Sliding books across the shiny, marble counter top
to the woman, who stands tall on the other side
with her mother-of-pearl rimmed glasses
nestled in the crevice of her full bosom
the glasses hang from her neck
on a glass beaded chain
She asks for my card
and without a word I place it in her open palm
I'm holding my breath as 
She slides the card smoothly, then frowns
Her lips part and she begins to speak-
But my body's turning
I'm running
I'm running before she gets me
Before she grabs my collar and shakes me
Before I'm locked up for being such a bad bibliophile 
There's a hold on my account
I'm banned 
I'm black-listed
I'm prohibited
There's a hold on my account
and I can't check out any more books


Details | Rhyme | |

Rhyme

Sometimes we rhyme to rhyme
Sometimes we do it for time
Maybe we think it’s fine
When rhyming for the sake of rhyme

Sometimes we write to write
Sometimes we write in light
Most times we try and fight
Reasons why we like to write

Sometimes we lie to lie
Sometimes we lie to spy
Generally we lie to pry
Into lives to catch a lie


Details | Lyric | |

Ode to Snow: Snow Week

Verse 1:
I’ve been in my house for way too long
So now I resort to write this song
For all of the people who would agree
To very simple heartfelt plea

Chorus:
Snow please go away.
We hope that you’ll return another day
You’ve outdone your welcome you see
So I hope you will listen to me
                                         Oh please,
Verse 2:
The first day I was amazed to see
That God had given snow to me
The second day I was real surprised
To see that the roads were still real iced
Third day had come my heart was blue
The fear in my mind had just come true
School had been cancelled for the day
So to our God this prayer I laid

Chorus:
“Make the snow go away
We pray you’ll make return another day
Please Lord don’t you see
School is where I really need to be”
                                          Sincerely Me,
Verse 3:
Fourth day a feeling came to me\
Frustration, boredom, and sadness three
Fifth day I ventured to the yard
Seeing the ice was very hard
I couldn’t take that day anymore
So I started season 3 of 24
Maybe this snow would never leave
Until I lose excessive sleep

Chorus:
I can’t stand you snow
Someplace else is where you need to go
My toes are numb I can’t find my brain
I don’t suspect I’ll ever feel them again 

Verse 4:
The sixth day came I was so glad
To get out the house with my dear dad
At the Starbucks I left my purse
Proving I’d lost my mind of course
Tomorrow is Friday a snow day too
I’m hoping the sun will come melt you
Activity low, I am so bored
But now I’ve run of guitar chords

Chorus:
In this house I’ve been for way too long
It’s given me time to write this song
Snow listen to this request I plea
My friends and family would agree
                                              With me…..


Details | Rhyme | |

Mosquito bites

darkness brings,                                                                      
obnoxious things                                                                               
swarms galore,                                                                            
push you on floor                                                                                   
catch you off-guard,                                                                     
killing them is hard                                                                                       
suck your life always,                                                                             
even your machine betrays                                                                            
enjoy your nights,                                                                                   
with mosquito bites


Details | Couplet | |

SILLINESS


     Well...I wanted to do something silly as I did,
     In writing a poem for this bid.

     It took but a TINY HERCULEAN try,
     All the while, I'm asking "Why?"

     I thought of writing about the time,
     When I didn't even have a dime.

     But then I realized how silly it would be,
     To write something, only about me.

     SO, SITTING and SMELLING the SWEET SEPAL,
     I decided not to write about me at all.

     Instead, while eating my JUMBO SHRIMP,
     I decided it would best to be an OVERGROWN IMP.

     Writing about the CARNATION CARRIED by the COURTIER,
     Who SANG his SONG SUCCESSFULLY to his SIRE.

     Oh, the WORDS that he WOULD WARBLE WISTFULLY,
     While the GREAT and GORGEOUS GREETED him GLEEFULLY.

     His CANTANKEROUS KING COMMONLY CAROUSED,
     Yet, only SONG SOOTHED him when his SHACKLED SEVERITY SEPIA aroused.

     Thus, often abed the king would go,
     His DARKNESS LIGHTENED by the SONG SANG SO.

     And if this silliness be not a poem the rules will fit,
     Maybe I should just lay down my pencil...and QUIT !!
     

     


Details | Rhyme | |

Critiquing 'N' Kindness

I know what you are thinking
This poem really stinks
Why did he bother writing it
Why'd he waste the ink

What kind of form, did he use
It's not on any list
It doesn't follow any rules
Oh Boy, this gets me P*ssed

Where'd he learn to spell
And make those stupid rhymes
He must have been, held back in school
At least a hundred times

My kid could do a better job
I'm telling you it's true
In several colored crayons
And She is only two

But, I have to show some mercy
Critique it with kindness
although he slaughters poetry
I'll just say,  something timeless

So, in the comment box below
I'll be a little trite
And type a saying we all know
Hey So-and-so "Great Write" 

by JT Curtis May 13, 2014


Details | Rhyme | |

F, 20-ish, GSOH, WLTM

 
I'm going to have to lie.
Can't admit I'm desperate
I'll say I have an "open mind"
I hope this photo makes them think
I'm under twenty five
Can't tell about the happy pills
I'll state "contagious smile"

Or should I be honest?
"Party girl who likes to drink
until she swims in vomit
Seeks like-minded, big ol' man
Lazy, low attention span,
facial spots, some teeth missing
undeniable penchant for whistling
Must be fun, must be flirty,
must be black belt in karate"

No.

"Voluptuous blonde,
gold digger, white trash
loves nothing more than smoking hash
looking for a loving man
who disregards my hoarse moustache"

Bwaahhh
This is hopeless, this is lame
Cant compete in this dating game
No-one will ever want me 
When all I can offer is honesty....

"Are you looking for a fun loving, beautiful intelligent female who's wild in bed?
Well, good luck!!" 


Details | Rhyme | |

IF I COULD BE A POET

If I could be a poet
And write like poets do
I'd write a whole book of poems
And dedicate it to you

I'd write about lost love
And dreams that don't come true
If I could be a poet
And write like poets do

I'd write such pretty pictures
With words of every hue
If only I could be a poet
And write like poets do

I don't want to move mountains
Or swim the ocean blue
I just want to be a poet
And write like poets do


Details | Rhyme | |

On Clint Eastwood's Birthday

For a fistful of dollars,
I'd write a new 'happy birthday.'
For a few dollars more.
I'd even write the score.
To avoid dirty Harry,
the good, the bad, and the ugly, I'd marry.
And for the man with no name,
I'd most likely, do the same!


Tom Higgins


Details | Couplet | |

STUBBORN

My intention is to write some prose
Why it comes out poems, nobody knows
I struggle, wiggle, leave me alone
As I sit happily writing a poem


Words are created and suddenly rhyme
I hardly revise them – I’ve not the time
Give up the idea of writing a book?
I feel I’m caught by a crook and a hook


Following rules as the semester unfolds
Smothers my brain; puts creating on hold
When I find a second that isn’t filled
I’ll write a poem, ‘cause I’m strongly self-willed!



Details | Monorhyme | |

CLICHE'

Oh, how I wanted to write something today,
I thought that I might have something witty to say.
Alas, all my thoughts are at bay,
My mind, sometimes, even myself I betray.
So I will have to continue in dismay,
That I didn't write anything new today.
As the thought process has been washed away,
My words are stuck in a mind of clay.
But tomorrow is another day,
I may have written something by then I pray.
For the creative juices only flow this way,
I feel it, I think about it, then begin to type away.
My words are not memorable in the things I say,
It's just that I like to write some thoughts each day.
But when my brain keeps saying "Nay",
I just have to go with the old cliche',
"Tomorrow is another day!"


Details | Free verse | |

Writer's Block

If only I could think of something to write. I’ve been sitting here for at least two hours, just trying to think of something, ANYTHING to write, but nothing is coming to mind! I decided to write down my thoughts, because that always inspires me to write. Writing inspires me to write. Ironic, huh? But its whatever, I guess. I’m sure I’ll think of something. I always do. Even if I think of something void of all conventional logic or cleverness, it would still classify as free verse poetry. That’s the beauty of it! I could write anything, and people will find it poetic. Sigh… Well, I’ve got to wrap this up. I need to think of something to write.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Poet's Curse

To write the perfect ode or verse
Is inevitably every aspiring poet’s curse
To write like the greats of the past
Who somehow have managed to last
Perhaps as a guide follow Patterson or Shakespeare
But wouldn’t this just lead to more confusion and fear

I wonder if there is a dummies guide to becoming a poet
With a cheesy heading like ‘your poet you just don’t know it’
What would such a book suggest
Would it be easy to digest

It would probably read
Poetry made simple here’s what you need
Step 1; it must always rhyme
And be kept in time 

Step 2; create a meaningful flow
Which is not too fast or too slow

Step3; convey superior knowledge and I.Q.
Show a variety of styles perhaps put in a haiku

Step 4; capture the readers mind
Know when to be cruel and know when to be kind

Step 5; make your theme relevant
A topic know one knows may be irrelevant

Step 6; use a thesaurus
It will help you find words similar to porous

Step 7; make sure your message is clear
When trying to portray terror give the reader fear

Step 8; keep your verse short and sweet
Keep your writing punctual and neat

Step 9; don’t rush, take your time
Eventually you’ll find a word to rhyme

Step 10; end it with a great line or pun 
And lastly try to have fun

If only creating the perfect verse was such an easy creation
We would certainly have a poet filled nation
The substance of verse would perhaps be bad
Which would make lovers of verse increasingly sad 

If you need to follow instructions or a list
In relation to verse you evidently don’t get the gist
Simply write what you feel passionate about
Say it softly or say it with a shout

Grab pen and paper and feel the space
Because with more self expression the world would be a better place

This guide to poetry is clearly a joke
Follow it and you will unavoidably choke


Details | Rhyme | |

Mrs. Worth, Joyce Kilmer, and Me

When I was yet in grade school, my teacher gave to me,
a task I thought most surely would be the death of me.
She ordered me to write a verse, in any style I chose,
I will tell you right up front that at her words I froze!

I thought long and hard on it, as any schoolgirl would,
still coming up with nothing did something no kid should.
There in my mother’s bedroom, stored on her bedside nook,
I found my dusty savior, ‘twas mama’s poem book!

I read until I found a poem anyone would think,
was ok, not quite perfect, one step above “what stinks.”
I began to jot it down, unaware what lay ahead,
she’d ne’er be the wiser as my pilfered poem was read.

As I wrote I altered words, for even I could see,
with just a couple changes, ‘twould sound the more like me.
The title seemed so boring, that I switched it as well,
now she’d think this poem was mine and say my work was swell!

Hot cheeked at her desk I stood, as her accusations flew,
suddenly, I don’t know why, my mouth began to move!
“This is really weird,” I lied, “as strange as it could be,
that this guy Mr. Kilmer would write so much like me!”

Sent home with a message, addressed to you know who,
it explained “our” little problem and what I’d have to do.
Red cheeked at the other end, I sat that very night,
when suddenly words emerged and I began to write!

Words floated onto paper, as I in anger vowed,
to write something much better than “trees whose heads are bowed.”
Mrs. Worth, though long gone now, I hope will somehow see,
how her dastardly assignment set my  spirit free!

One thing to remember, should a harsh critique you read,
ignore what isn’t useful, accept that which you need,
never get discouraged if the kudos don’t come through,
‘cause even old Joyce Kilmer once had a bad review!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Only God Knows

"Hi hon, I'm home!
Hey what are all our friends doing here?!"
Hello dear, there's something I forgot to mention.
We are all here for your intervention.
Come in, come in! Where have you been?
"I stayed late at work to write some prose.
Hon, it was really cool and entitled "Only God Knows"!"
Well you see dear, that's why we're all here.
You are a poetry freak and in denial, with a pen fettish!
"Gimme back my pen and no I'm not, at least not yettish!"
No dear? Then why is there a poem written
on the toilet paper roll?
"That's simple, hon, I had no paper while there, 
and it looked like a scroll."
What is that strange spot of ink doing on your hand?
"I had an idea about a poem for us,
so I marked it near my wedding band."
Why do you have to write some poems
NOW in so much of a hurry?
"Because, sometimes they flow through me, not from me,
so don't you all worry,
when I get inspired, I get wired."
But then dear, just where does it come from,
this inspiration that flows?
"Don't you  see, hon? That's what I've been trying to tell you !
..Only God Knows!


Details | Free verse | |

I Won't Write Santa

This year I won't write Santa,

Instead I'll write the President.

I won't forget to five-space indent,

Or write, Sincerely, George; from Atlanta.

I hope he reads all his notes, like Santa,

For at Christmas, he takes time to listen.

To a little boy that feels so sad,

Because all year he've missed his dad.

My dad is quite a brave man,

To go and serve in foreign lands.

Mom says, I must be real strong,

A sad letter to the President would be wrong.

My mom is always right,

Though, I must write to him this night.

I won't write a sad letter to him at all,

I'll write, "hope you have a ball."

I know he'll spend time with his dad,

His dad must be really proud and glad.

He'll have all his love ones with him,

"Ho-Ho, Merry Christmas to all of them."


Details | Light Poetry | |

JorgeSouthKorea

This is the man that I am

No need for a detective because I have few mysteries

Whatever you don’t find its trapped somewhere inside my mind

I put my life into words for the whole world to read

I hope you enjoy what you see

A South Korean English teacher by night

An avid writer by day

A helpless romantic somewhere in between

The smile and joy from my students is priceless

Seeing someone enjoy my writings is pretty rewarding as well

I feel that everything in my life is finally going well

From my writings you may find that hard to tell

Sorry I don’t write more fantasies or fables

To convey happy emotions and attract more followers

You are getting my life through my eyes

I don’t have a sweet tooth so I don’t sugarcoat things

I write what I have seen and how it has effected me

My adventures and journeys have been vast

Come with me on this ride

Together we can both be pleasantly surprised

With what I will write

This is the the man that I am



Find more of my writings and poems at jorgesouthkorea.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Why I Write

I write to release all of the emotions I’ve picked up during the day,

I write to remember happy memories, and to make the bad ones fade away.

I write because I am in love. I write because I’m in pain…

I write because I have nothing to lose, and so very much to gain.

I write when my head is filled with fantasies, dreams and or goals,

I write because just like an actor, my mind takes on many roles.

I write my own songs, poems and sometimes silly little rants,

I write because I feel, I write because I can’t.

I write to show others like me that they are never alone,

I write to create another world that is simply my own.

I write because I am proud. I write because I’m ashamed…

I write when there’s a voice inside of me that can’t be tamed. 

I write at three in the morning when I can’t fall asleep,

I write because it is far better than counting furry sheep.

I write because I always have something to say,

I write because it has made me into who I am today.


Details | Quatrain | |

Calling Mimunna Mimunna

******Calling All Poet's*********

Mimunna is a switch/bate scham on the internet that has infiltrated our rank's......
Poet's, write and give her your love. Poet's take the floor and express your love
via E-mail!!!!!!! Get the write-up, up! Kiss>Kiss>Kiss-up!

*****She is at(mine4love8@yahoo.com) Let her know we care!!!!!


MIMUNNA, MIMUNNA

Mimunna, Mimunna
I know that you love me
But, tell me is it me
          Or maybe
       My money
That you are trying
             To free
            ------
You wrote me on the internet
Told me that I was a catch
But, you are nothing to me
Not even an even match
            ------
I told you that I love you
      But, who love's who more
Are you a real person
       Or are you just
An inter-net whore
            -----
A whore on the internet
Writing me back
Seeing if I will fall for you
Maybe give you some scratch
         -----
Baby, your'e Scheme is kind
            Of wack
         ------
Sure, you can write me
           On the internet
And that is true
So, remember that
Their is just a little bit
More than just loving you
And that is this simply
This thing called {Poetry)
So, don't be a stranger
Check me out on Poetry Soup

               GF

Your friend in the pen/G.FIELDS


Details | Blank verse | |

the god of fire

The God of fire
It took him twenty years
to write his novel.
Twenty refusals later 
he gave the manuscript 
to the fire which
greedily absorbed it. 
A phone call from nowhere,
send us another novel.
It took twenty more years 
to write a new book
and the god Agni 
burnt his hands. 
As a thank you.
Success at last he cried 
to a man with a yellow helmet
carrying an axe.


Details | I do not know? | |

Yoy Want me to Write you a Poem

So you want me to write a poem
And you want me to write it now
You see, I want to write this poem
But I don’t know how

I don’t know how to rhyme
And I don’t know how to flow
So I cannot write this poem
That you have wanted so


Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Soup Group

Poetry Soup Group

This is quite a group, 
the people at Poetry Soup.

They make me feel 
like a part of their troop.

No matter how much bad 
poetry I enter in their contests 
they still encourage 
me to write until I poop!

The State of the 
group at Poetry Soup
Is that it’s a great 
place to regroup,
Eat soup and write 
poetry late at night,
When you can’t 
seem to sleep.

It’s a great group of people,
Good company to keep.
They make me want to
Leap for joy each time
I log on to Poetry Soup!


Details | I do not know? | |

Green onions(ode to)

Green Onions

What fool can write about green onions?
Not me, Not me
I'm not a fool you see

Green onions are food
not a poem my friend whose goofy

But I don't mean to be rude
or crude to any dude
who writes about green onions 
and not eat for food

So what if I'm rude or crude
to you, foolish dude
I'm not like you, I'm no fool
But a dude who's cool

So don't confuse me with a fool dude 
'cause I'm a cool dude
I do not write about green onions
that is you, a fool you see
and a fool you will always be

I do not write about green onions
you see ,you see


Details | Couplet | |

Chastushkas

Chastushkas

I would love to write a poem as hilarious as could be.
But it seems like funny poems will not come out of me.
So I practice my Chastushkas in hopes I will succeed.
A better sense of humor must be what I need.
I wish that I could buy one, but they are not in the store.
I have searched dictionaries and thesauruses galore.
I have looked along the freeway and down the country roads
But the funny inspirations seem to hop away like toads.
There are so many writers that have a humorous touch.
And I wish I had it, too… very much.
I guess I must remember to write down the funny things I see around.
Like the time I saw kids rolling, laughing wildly on the ground.
But until then, I’ll use my pen to hone my funny bone.
Writing those Chastushkas until I do not laugh alone…


 © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 19, 2010

Poetic form:  Couplets


Details | Rhyme | |

Heroes

Henry Normal is very informal
When he reads his poetry
Robbie Caltrane looks almost insane
When he apears on the TV
Bruce Forsythe has a very nice wife;
Well he's had quite a few you know
And Roger McGough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show

A.A Milne may have owned a kilne
In which he mad pottery Poohs
Billy Bragg was once called a slag
By someone in blue suede shoes
Ben Elton ate a hot cross bun
And he isn't religious you know
And Roger Mcgough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show.

Alan Bennett could run for the sennett
and write all the speaches much beter
Jonathan price doesn't need my advice
So I won't even write me a letter
Stephen Fry is so nice I could cry
And Hugh Laurie has a readybreak glow
And Roger McGough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show


Details | I do not know? | |

What I Write

I want to move to get a fresh start;
and somehow leave all the anger in my heart.

Have complete confidence that i'm smart;
always continuing to do my part.

They say poetry is an art;
it's relaxing like listening to rain in the dark.

I write about my kids loving the park;
and the pen that makes this mark.

It stinks when a match sparks;
and I write the words I have thought.


Details | Couplet | |

Ode to Sean Kelly

I wanted to write just like soup's Sean Kelly
But every time I tried my knees went like jelly
So I put on my bowlers hat and tried an ode
Alas the wind was too heavy and it ended on the road
My hat, that is, not my  ode you understand
And my ode turned out so totally not  grand
However hard I tried to concentrate
The words coming out were just not great
I tried to type with finesse and a giggle
But the writing just looked like a wee squiggle
Oh dearie me what bad luck that was
I can't believe the amount of fuss
With knees of jelly and not even a laugh
With words of squiggles and a darn in my scarf
With a hat on the road and simply nothing on telly
Just for me trying to write just like Sean Kelly!!!


Details | Rhyme | |

Another Glass of Wine

This morning I wanted to write a poem
But the words just wouldn't rhyme
So, I'll just put it away
And try another time

Well, here I am in the afternoon
Armed with paper and pen
The words will surely come to me soon
So, I'll just wait til then

I had a very nice dinner
And an extra glass of wine
Poem writing shouldn't be so hard
And I'm sure I can do it this time

First I'll have another glass of wine
Just to settle me down
I'm beginning to get the feeling
I may need to lie down

So many words come tumbling out
I can't get them in a line
My fingers are shaking so
Think I need another glass of wine

Oh, looky, looky, looky, at all dem purdy werds
Amazing how a liddle wine can open up yer head
I wish I could get dem on my paper
Before my fingers turn to lead

I 'd really love to write a poem
But I don't know what to do
So, I'll have another glass of wine
And leave the poem writing to you.




Details | Free verse | |

ED NOTE: TO ED

 ED NOTE: TO ED     
 
 
Author Message 
Admin
Admin



Age : 53
Joined : 13 Jun 2007
Posts : 651

 Subject: ED NOTE: TO ED   Today at 11:43      

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
ED NOTE: TO ED 

ED NOTE: TO ED 

TO ED NOTE: please forgive me ED for not writing you before eye have seen your 
name on every textbook in the store just now eye got some time to answer you 
some more eye hope that you are well and feeling better in the fall your 
correspondence is so varied the things you write to me are different every thought 
is written out line by line as if something is concerning all the words already 
written down ED, please write to me another note. This poem is some fun a poet 
has a chance to even out the bad grades given him in education land a prisoner 
of the yellow van that takes us backward forth a slave to the milk money the 
luncheon tickets given him by program funding taken then by force away with 
rules and harbored grudge. A note to ED. 
 
           
 
 
 ED NOTE: TO ED     
 
Page 1 of 1 


Details | Free verse | |

nuthin said nuthin done

writers block what just write like fling a kite                                    
riding what oh a bike there it is again                                                
so take paper throw it write again                                                 
that"s not rip can't quit                                                             
pen has stopped what write like swimming                                             
very thin but gotta begin some where                                                   
so there i got writers block


Details | I do not know? | |

SOL.Fresh.IS

In thanks to all who have supported my contest!  It's been a wonderful time reading your
rhymes and I still, don't know how I will ever pick between them.  All brilliant as the
Poets You Are.  Thank you again my friends! :)

Solfege...
A song of Write.
Fresh as the sage
SO lovely in page
In the RAys of the sun
A Me come from
So FAAa aWay!S ......... you say?
Of the pen on the mendbend.ing?
Yes! Splendid! And so it shall Be
Come one and all to the blend.ing!
Hear the call of my friend.and
Join us. :) as we play.

do little dear, a female hear,
Re a little bit of Meee, my o'my!
I'm upside down, FAl so much
how can I seeeee? SOL A lite
it is so bright! Stand.ing upside
in fliiiight, di, ri, fish, is what I
wish, as a dish for my TVeee
siT, be,li,Ve and so te.he

I LAF sofa!, so does he
se es me there! fe et in the air,
RA! I am myself. todaaay.
Play!..... In The Love.

Tune in and Write something. :)


I say, it is the day for writing
rhymes of time in song and
friends enjoy enjoy this
merry little tune. Write about
your bits and bytes flights
and sights from hear to the
Moon as we aim to be a joyous
chorus of hear we sing
in.and for a good deed.

~I call it a smile. Spread it.
Like a great ;pb&j


~Thanks to my love for the wiki~
In music, solfège (pronounced /'so?lf??/, also called solfeggio, sol-fa, or solfa) is a
pedagogical solmization technique for the teaching of sight-singing in which each note of
the score is sung to a special syllable, called a solfège syllable (or "sol-fa syllable").
The seven syllables normally used for this practice in English-speaking countries are: do,
re, mi, fa, sol, la, and ti (with a chromatic scale of ascending di, ri, fi, si, li and
descending te, le, se, me, ra).


AND...


Synoptic Optical Long-term Investigations of the Sun is (SOLIS)... just for fun. ;)


Details | Quatrain | |

To Write That One

I wish to write a poem, great
One that serves well to inspire
With words selected, choice yet sweet
Perhaps, speak of desire

I wish to write a poem, great
That many would remember
They’d keep it in their hearts and minds
From January through December

I wish to write a poem, great
That would really make my mark
Let it burn like a fire out of control
From my mind, set ablaze with a spark

I wish to write a poem, great
Or maybe one that’s just enjoyed
You can’t become rich writing in verse
That is why I’m still employed


Details | Couplet | |

IT HAD TO BE SAID

This is no poem, it lacks any style.
Talks of nothing very trendy or wild.

No illustrious lines, in fact, very dull
Easy to write while your leg I pull.

Says very much, in a small space
Read between lines, to be amazed.

Take your time, admire the rhythm
Sometimes no beat is within them.

Words turn up and go as  they do
Admired by a lot, not by some few.

And I write and wrong as is the case.
Think I’ve put a smile on your face


Details | ABC | |

FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
I was standing on the corner, in a place I've never been;
the merchants of enticement, were inviting to come in.
The ladies on the corner; were hoping there will be;
A chance to make some dollars, from any man they see.
The bums up in the alley, were trying to lose the're minds
While swaying to the motions of intoxicating wine.
Hanging in a group, were guys all dressed in black;
It appeared that they were hoodlums, who lived across the tracks.
A grungy down beat rhythm, was blaring from the bars;
The signs outside were claiming, that the girls inside were stars.
Coming down the street and looking out of place;
Was a man inside a Bently, with a cigar stuck in his face.
All at once I heard it, a fight had just broke out,
Knives and guns were flashing and some girl began to shout.
Oh my god they shot him (she said; I think my baby's dead;
I didn't see what happened but he was bleeding from the head.
People from the bars, were hanging out the doors;
And the bums up in the alley, started running for the store.
The guys all dressed in black were frozen in a stance;
And then they started hopping, like in some kind of dance.
The ladies of the night, were trying to make a plan;
They were trying to find a way to get, wallet from the man.
I turned and started walking, away from all the fuss;
I walked a couple blocks and then I caught a bus.
It happened up on Broadway, on the night of New Years Eve;
In the town of San Francisco, the city by the sea.
I was twenty one and looking for some action;
It was more than I had bargained for, in fact it sent me packing.
The next time that I went there, I had myself a gun;
And some fellows from the posse, but all we had was fun.
There were other things that happened,other times that I was there;
And I might write about it, if I see that any care.
So if you liked the story and care to read some more;
Be sure to write and say so, I'll pull my notes out of the drawer.