verse and rhyme;
stands the test of
in life,face to
Up every day at three, fighting for life.
As support for so many, I don't know
how much longer I can maintain this strife.
A few minutes there, a few minutes now,
I scribble a few lines at a stop light,
back to the daily grind, and edit here
on the fly. Don't give up without a fight
the dream that words can make the world as clear
and as coherent as it needs to be.
Find the rhyme and nudge out a true meaning.
Pull it together and hope for a key
phrase. Send out for comment, not expecting
too much. So, a bad day was made perfect,
a sad week made great by Bella's critique
You sink into the bosom of the chair
And wonder if I too once sat amidst
The chattering, white coffee sipping fare—
The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss.
Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug
And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip
My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog
My writer turning phrase and spinning quips?
Did I curl my toes under my feet
Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup
My yellow molars grinding to the beat
Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups?
I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted—
I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.
As technology has progressed , bound leaps ,
within the nanny state , Man simply sleeps .
Replaced Automatic ; Manual Labour.
Solved by Machine mind's , Binary No more .
For synthetic constructs for your whim , creeps
pumping cheese-its into bulging wheeze heaps.
So keep That lard thru blood , spotless , can ignore
such irritations as ; Clearing the floor .
While Digital duty serves ; watch those beeps
streaming 24/7 fiction keeps
sake in sight , forms pixel ; away those flaws
by Avatar's dream , away life's true claws.
While around , leashed , the world quietly leaps ,
Attended by metal hands ; Left
So sorry no rsvp you see
to welcome comments given me
no laptop now,just an iphone cell
to you dear friends,my verse to tell;
Poems I can paste and post
sadly contests here I cannot host
PS remains poetry's number one
to it each day I still will come;
An iphone friendly site would be a boon
perhaps it will come soon?
Meanwhile enter your image verse
in my contest for poems terse;
See my link here below,
take a pen and have a go
I spit the words you made me eat, and then
they land on you as there you stand aghast –
You cringe and stare at what you said; thick phlegm
bedecks your face, a white-hot, slimy blast.
They left a taste, a bitter paste of hate
and painful anger. Tongue to teeth, I fled
the room and slapped the twisted hands of fate
from off my neck as choking life-breath bled.
I tripped, you screamed and tried to grab me back –
Too late for that, and now we fall apart.
The precipice is yawning, grim, deep black
and down I plunge, my ending and my start.
The forge of stellar flame blows hot, then cold
as melting, sculpted frozen wings unfold
I am writing this poem as a sonnet.
Yes, a sonnet but more modern and quiet,
in a style that you may or may not like.
I’m writing it my way, you may find it
difficult to call it a sonnet.
With a broken meter and forceful rhyme
but like all sonnets it has nothing to bind
you to it but the thought that you give it.
I still need this sonnet to say a word
about the way all sonnets are written.
From old masters this form we were given
and remains with rhyme the form most preferred.
It is poetry that comes from our soul.
It is poetry that makes poets whole.
Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.
... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.
All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .
OF COURSE A SONNET is just a word
No its not it’s something I’ve never heard
But what does it mean, I didn’t know
To the dictionary I did go
OF COURSE A SONNET should not confuse
With lyrics that are fourteen lines long
Convectional rhyming schemes are used
When it’s read it can sing like a song
OF COURSE A SONNET goes back in time
Back when Shakespeare was making a rhyme
I read a few and thought they were fine
But it’s not the form, for poems like mine
OF COURSE A SONNET, just isn’t me
My poems are simple as they can be
METER FORM - SONNET
SONNET BY SYD SHAKESPEARE
Shall I compare a tragedy to a comedy?
Tragic art’s more lovely and more temperate:
Rough minds do shake with laughing at Nuts in May,
And some comedies have all too short a sell-by date:
Sometime the plot is shy of meaning lines,
And oft is the old rich-haircut-joke dimm'd;
And every heir with hair sometime declines,
A fresh cut, keeping nature's changing hair untrimm'd:
But tragedy’s eternal superiority shall not fade
Nor lose possession of its humour edge, the lowest;
Nor shall failure brag thou wast by comedy in the shade,
When with eternal lines of fans, thou growest:
Whenever men can’t breathe, and eyes can’t see,
Then long lives this, and this gives life to tragedy.
just my little song
to help the minutes along-
making love prolong
Inspired by Linda-Marie's latest contest
My faith is part of me,
as is my poetry;
It could not be any other way,
two sides of one coin,I now say;
It's who I really was,you see
hidden,then released,in me
Faith,and my poetry
A wooden road of thought so deeply grained
with ruts beneath the shudder of my pen
it's inkless falterings my hand stills pained
in search for words that may not come again.
These random slivers of such dense suspense
have sewn my hand unto my sagging shoulder
the wretched shivers quiver so intense
it melts my fragile muse in dipping solder.
Distracted by this torture's ruthless pause
with eyes I skip the silver disc of night
and listen for the ripples of applause
while darkness falters with the dawning light.
Another wordless day has idled on,
again I find the midnight gone with dawn.