Bobby still remembers his High School Sophomore year
Rarely do his other memories still ring so clear
But he also recalls letters to Christine (his girl at the time)
They are so vivid he can quote every line
Sometimes they skipped their classes just to talk for a while,
He adored that girl to madness,
her brilliance and style
That year was precious,that year was a bit wild
He's not living with any regrets,
That year and that girl left impressions he'll never forget
By: J.N.R Dutton
Avoid current politics please,
But that seems an impossibility, geez~
Seems better to remember
Old Miss Thompson’s advice:
Don’t talk politics if you can’t talk nice,
Or at least leave it ‘til November!
The corruption probe
Of systemic corruption
Corruptly cancelled
(12/15/25)
Artificial Intelligence aka the end of creativity & death to all art. New age plagiarism in my opinion. The work of a bot with credit taken by one who's too lazy to think for themselves. Absolutely no good comes from Artificial Intelligence in regards to any form of art or expression of self. I honestly believe it will be the death of all art forms from reading to writing, from art to music etc & everything in between. Why do we as society promote this nonsense or even stand behind this foolishness in the first place? What does one gain from this? It isn't art in any way shape or form & nothing that comes from it is truly genuine or from the heart, it's B.S. that is created spur of the moment on the fly via bot processor or whatever the hell it is they use to operate. We as people need to bring an end to A.I. before it brings an end to us.
Here we are
Each of us
In a world
Of our own
Trying hard
To connect
But failing
Again and again.
The solution
You know
Is to simply
Let it all
Go
And let
whatever arises
Simply be.
Is this illusion
The Zenness
Of being
Or it is just
Another attempt
At relevance
In a world
Of illusion.
(10/15/25)
God worked His wonders , through this obetient..And mostly humble man.'
God is the same yesterday today and
Indeed, tomorrow.' Divinely He plans.'
Signs of His passage.' On Moshe from
The 'get go' To this very day they still show
Of ' His guidance, of His Love
And The Way' we must go.' No prophet
No priest ordains right.' Unless the Spirit
Is guiding.' And though it be darkest night..
God is forever; the Everlasting light.' Work while He bids.'
Throw of the old yoke.' And He will surely win your fights.' As He did it for Moses
He will see all His true followers right
All the same
of evils fame
hate, murder and genocide
lies, white supremacists in ties
They do not use one gun
nor kill one son
with their weapons
they murder in the millions
Now Charlie was full of hate
no immigrants
laughed at Palestinians state
blacks and women better know their place
When thousands of children slaughtered
he loved the blood of fathers daughters
He worshipped himself
Jesus never in his equations
He worshipped only genocidal nations
Don't go shopping for prescription glasses
when you're mad at your boss.
You'll end up coming home with
don't f*ck with me glasses
that you'll regret!
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Bare bear Bayer
A naked big pharma omnivore
Covered in hair
Soul sole Seoul
The bottom of a Korean spirit’s foot
Out for a stroll
Right write rite
A well-prepared nuptial sermon
Gripping but light
Si see sea
Affirmatively spying the ocean waves
Pleasant and free
Lye lie lai
A burning falsehood sung in style
I must ask why
Seen seine scene
The visualized setting of a fisherman’s netting
Trawler’s routine
Pare pair pear
Trimming a duo of summer fruit
Sweet treat to share
here’s your plaque:
best in uniformity & public shaming.
no rooster crows without committee review.
no similes unless they match the mulch.
you scratch the dirt,
then vote on who gets corn-fed
when there's plenty to go around.
not every poem is a zoning dispute,
and I'm hard pressed to name anyone here
an expert in the field. get over yourselves.
she left.
what was the point of that?
you ran off a chance to learn something,
or worse,
ran off a chance to help a lonely person
in need, masquerading what they want to be.
we'll never know now.
all this for what?
the abject terror of an electron less
of validation? grow the f*ck up.
I see you,
paper-bagging praise like contraband,
while circling the coop,
searching for a beak to clip.
I'm going to bed now,
to dream of that first welcome
I had three years ago.
My sincerest hope
is that you'll meet me there.
Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons
Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of
The long white cloud
Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold
Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour
Off their heads...now divining
Mining our whining sea beds..
Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told
Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…
Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow
Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!
Cornelius McGillicuddy Mack
You can’t make up a name like that
At baseball he took a loud whack
(Managing the A’s to 3,731 wins)
~ Suit-and-tie, teetotalling aristocrat
"The Maiden's Song" or "The Bridal Morn" is an ancient Middle English poem about a young girl, a bride, on the morning after her wedding day.
The Maiden’s Song aka The Bridal Morn
anonymous Medieval lyric
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The maidens came to my mother’s bower.
I had all I would, that hour.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
Now silver is white, red is the gold;
The robes they lay in fold.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
Still through the window shines the sun.
How should I love, yet be so young?
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
I take this to be a naughty, suggestive poem, but one that makes us feel sympathy for a young bride, quite possibly a child bride.
Keywords/Tags: maiden, mother, mother and daughter, bailey, beareth, bell, lily, rose, silver, gold, robes, sun, love, young, youth, girl, bower, bridal shower, wedding, woman, women,
Monsieur, said she
demure
Madame, replied he
lovely coiffure
Garcon, said she
table for two
Caviar and wine, said he, for me
Madame, Vos vilst du?
Go away! Go away! I'm never letting you in!
You're nothing but a walking, slimy, horny ball of sin
You let drugs use you up 'til you're bouncing off the walls
You're 21 years old! I'm 39 years old! You're killing me, Smalls!
Go fvck with people of your own minuscule age
You still have to play with baby witches - I'm a fvcking Mage
You're barely older than my own son
I'm way too far out of your league, hon
Didn't you get it the first 50x when I didn't answer for you?
You're creeping on me - being a proper stalker, dude
Seriously though, I haven't notified law enforcement yet
How about my entire existence you just magically forget?
I even paid you $25 to fvck off, once!
Go sit in that corner, child, wear that hat - DUNCE!!
I have no bloody use to ever see your pathetic face again
No, "AKA. Turbo," I don't want to be your friend
You're the kind of little boy who screws his friends' moms
Gross - "AKA. Turbo," everything about your existence is wrong
No wonder why you're homeless without a home
'Cause you won't respectfully leave people the fvck alone!
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.