Best Monorhyme Poems
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
Taketh comfort when hie to flee
nature’s maddening outburst spree.
Cometh rain, shine, you hear my plea
and protect me from life’s debris.
Graceful thee stand my eyes to see
awaiting and weeping with me.
Seasoned branches becoming free
to kiss the ground - teardrops from thee.
Your arching harbour so feathery;
long green leaves a pillow to me.
I rest in safety, hope, to be -
revived afore take leave of thee.
Nectar flowers that feed the bee,
bell shaped yellow, so bright to see.
Catkins fall as you give to me
a token of friendship - bless thee.
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
Running beauty rippled in crystal white
No whisper in the air, just a wondrous sight
My eyes ascend in awe to a far light
Small and empty observing such a height
Nature in colours captured in delight
Ready to be filled with bliss and insight
Melt in silence, a faint soul to excite
Drifted with music, poem to recite
My thoughts wrapped into words and put aside
My fancies are now poised set for a flight
A heart into throbbing beauty subsides
The summit I can reach and meet my fright
Exultant to feel not gems but a mine
Yearning to have peace seeds sown deep inside
Sweet lyrics bring my very soul to life
Soft music tunes me to mountain nine.
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
Plato
Politicians keep lying
Hate keeps breeding
Jets keep firing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Homes keep tumbling
Hope keeps crumbling
Time keeps ticking
Injustice keeps screaming
Funerals keep delaying
Peacemakers keep meeting
Media keeps shocking
Propaganda keeps faking
Tanks keep bombing
Earth keeps shaking
Fear keeps spreading
Soldiers keep fighting
Widows keep weeping
Sorrows keep growing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Tears keep flowing
Hunger keeps increasing
Journalists keep reporting
Poets keep writing
Music keeps playing
Teachers keep teaching
Clergymen keep praying
Preachers keep preaching
Protestors keep protesting
Faith keeps searching
Peace keeps fading
Ignorance keeps showing
Missiles keep shooting
Humanity keeps bleeding
World keeps sleeping
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
I am a poem popper
Poetry is the drug for me
A perpetual habit
Shared with select company
I am a poem popper
I have been since the age of three
Me and Seuss go way back
By eight hooked on Dennis Lee
I am a poem popper
Addicted to the musicality
High on wit and wisdom
Dependent on a healing property
I am a poem popper
Where this is going... Obviously
My habit led to writing
Call it manifest destiny
I am a poem popper
Poetry set my mind free
Boasting the gamut of human experience
The crux of empathy
Pop me
02/22/19
Poetry And Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
I once heard the whisper of falling snow,
saw a spark in the eye of a coal-black crow,
felt the power and awe of a swift river's flow,
the older I get, the less I know.
My hair was once braided in golden cornrows,
by Jamaican friends in an island below,
a psychic once asked me about Jericho,
the older I get, the less I know.
The hot southern asphalt that scalded my toe,
the rope swing that swung us, to and fro,
Christmas Eve and the tree in the firelight's glow,
the older I get, the less I know.
Everyone's gone, but where did they go?
Why is my spirit sinking so low?
Is it true we reap only what we sow?
the older I get, the less I know.
©2010 DanielleWhite
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'
As night grows short, yet moon and stars are still aglow,
some sleep with dreams which to the world they’ll never show,
and others sleep with dreams that cover up great woe.
But there are some whose minds are dancing to-and-fro,
who find that slumber is a thing they must forego.
They rise from bed; then creeping down the hall they go
where they can put their thoughts to verse because they know
that fleeting are those thoughts which fall like flakes of snow
across their minds. To capture them they must, and so,
the shadow poets pour their hearts out! Even though
they long for sleep, they let their dreams on paper flow!
Be it evidence consequence or coincidence
Every night as I succumb to somnolence
Heavenly smoke rings of frankincense
Rise upwards with sweet opulence
Dulcet dreams inevitably commence
Without fanfare hype or pretense
While sweet loving arms of providence
Wrap around me a shroud of benevolence
Under a scented canopy of impermanence
Ablaze with the aura of glowing confidence
Revealing universal secrets of magnificence
I humbly bow in unpretentious reverence
Adrift in solitude so many nights hence
I reminisce of nostalgia in the past tense
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on June 6, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE (3) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Originally posted on March 6, 2019
As embers burn warmly at our campsite,
fireflies propel, floating like citrus in flight.
Crickets chirp in shadows of nature's delight,
composing sounds against a backdrop of quiet.
Spellbound by the magic of tender twilight,
violet and clementine tints bless our eyesight.
As indigo hues dissolve into midnight,
stars slowly appear like sparkling crystallite.
Silver pearls glowing from an elusive height,
in synergy with lustrous rays of moonlight.
Lost in natural wonders, passions ignite,
lovers embrace, whilst poets begin to write.
Marigold orb ascends to summon daylight,
sapphire skies surface with fluffy puffs of white.
Morning melodies birds begin to recite,
the heart hopes such beauty can be infinite.
There once was a little mighty ant
Who was extravagant and arrogant
Known to be exorbitantly militant
She was so combatant and petulant
They nicknamed her My Commandant
One day she came across an elephant
Elegant and obviously dominant
She started on her typical rant
Then stopped and decided to recant
Both agreed it was all very insignificant
They chatted, it turned out the elephant
Was actually the ant's aunt
Suddenly the intolerant ant
Has become cheerful and exuberant
And now routinely breaks out in chant
Read on air by invitation ~ May 26, 2020 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: 2nd place, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on October 20, 2018 for MID OCTOBER 2018 CONTEST sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
and February 23, 2018 for contest MAKE ME LAUGH sponsored by Robert Haigh
This world of trouble soon will pass
For there beyond the crystal glass
A lamb and lion tread the grass
Beside a lass, beside a lass
This cord of present time shall break
And hate and fear shall flee and quake
Oh, may all vice this earth forsake!
And love awake! And love awake!
Oh, see him walk 'neath mighty trees!
The king of beasts; what strength and ease!
Yet now content this lass to please
Her hand to tease, her hand to tease
Behold! A pleasant form and face!
The child of beauty crowned with grace!
Fair Una treads at even pace
A better place, a better place
~ The form is Monotetra~
~Based on the painting 'Una and the Lion' by Briton Riviere.
Beneath a moonlit black velvet sky
Where scarlet leaves from the Maple fly
On November’s wind and breathless sighs
And a lone coyote’s distant cry
You and me where hints of winter lie
Frost nipping our toes as autumn dies
I am warmed by the love in your eyes
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars
my mind implodes in Malimar
where Naiads bathe in caviar -
I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars.
The captive kiss of Princess Mars
(who talks in tongues at seminars)
burns red beyond Her blue boudoir -
I writhe within Her pale peignoir.
Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar,
bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar,
serve teas beside the reservoir -
I sip them from a samovar.
Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar
Her Genies gender gold dinars,
evoking flames in ginger jars -
I plea before the Commissar.
At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar,
white shadows slip through doors ajar
to drape my dreams in ash and char -
I long await the Avatar.
Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars)
paint pretty scenes on VCR’s
while sailing ships to Zanzibar -
I strum the strings of warped sitars.
Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars
else while at each and every bar
to speak of space and time bizarre -
I pass my pride for small pourboires.
Her Necromancers trace in tar
tall tales of wisdom flung afar,
transported by the Registrars -
I hitchhike on their handlebars.
Her seers conjure repertoires
where She and I are on a par
in infinite surreal memoirs -
I sometimes sense the void is ours.
My Princess never sees the scars
cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” -
I often wake to ask ‘who are
these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
You were eyes for the man I was - blind
And always without strain you were kind
Love from the heart with no edit of mind
What a day it was I met you - what a find
In awe of your aura - to mesh I was inclined
Our souls with ease from day one intertwined
Faith insisted on our meeting, solid, underlined
There were no keys on backs one had to wind
To say that I am thankful would be misdefined
A new word I would create for us for all mankind
For our story must be familiar one predefined
From up above written in stone and preassigned
I am writing this in monorhyme perfectly designed
Like our friendship it is one, neat and consigned
For you now - delivered, dated and proudly signed
01~11~2015
With Love Armand
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest: Write A Poem
Imperfect as we are, how can we
begin to grasp the intensity
of His pain, that immense agony
of suffering for humanity?
To be unblemished, yet have to be
the one to bear such cruel mockery,
body nailed to a cross unjustly,
His heart and soul pierced for you and me.