this actual poem,
that I am write.
finally, an actual poem,
during the day, during the night.
I write this poem,
start to end.
a proper poem,
my mind starts the bend.
as my quill runs out of ink,
I'm so tired, starting to sleep.
my eyes start to drag, I constantly blink.
the final full stop and then I sleep.
(did I really rhyme sleep with sleep, I'm a genius poet.)
blindness of the heart
the actual true blindness
not of the own eyes!
What the actual Flip
I remember,
well...
ri-ri-member.
In Abq
Skimming thru
my playlist foo
I blinked out
fell down
and passed out?
I wake
and for God's sake
what the freak happened
It felt like a split second.
I think you know where this goes.
Axion, gone actual?
Energy low? Mass?
Sing within us all, moon full!
Shine in colored casse...
Opopanax, gears a-grim?
Young people these days!
Teeter on the crater's rim?
Success always pays.
Tamarisk tree, waking up.
Dreams from this one fly!
Covenant of drinking cup?
Do not deign to die...
Squirrel in deepest burrow?
Not this day, O my friend!
Fields with salt a-furrow!
Broken past the bend!
Winter snow, thy undertow.
Cold, take hold. O spring;
Which way leads to warp? Which woe?
Serpents, how you sting...
Gold on floor of old ravine?
Better leave it there?
Yellow eyes in skull, thy scene...
Press but don't despair.
Hope, tragedy. Rail or risk?
Horror, right this way!
Hell and Heaven, in a whisk!
Hatchet, who to slay?
Angels, demons, sacred art?
Cherries taste a-tart.
O explosions, tear apart!
Arrow, seek the heart!
End Times, tunnels, breath. Wind chimes.
Doubt, do not fail now.
Doom and Death dance on the dimes!
Best not to ask how...
Without foundation
no creation
from clay and lime
the glory shine
In eyes I see
What's in heart for me
go gather gladly
the sun shines friendly
My time to smile
they have signed the file
a long time awaited
justice rated
I give a star so shiny
for Victory
a race my own.
I gained the crown!
When the tree bears its fruit
It produces rare resources
Should I start counting?
When capital is accumulated
It manufactures wealth
Should I start saving?
The wonders of the world,
As money falls into your pocket
An accomplishment has been made
Is this money enough?
As the knowledge becomes noticeable
An achievement has occurred
Is it what I deserve?
Secrecy of the world,
When the grass becomes greener
It produces rare opportunities
Should I count?
When capital is invested
It manufactures interests
Should I save?
The mystery of the world.
a knotted...
in-a-tall-act
you all know...
be as
until-actually...
in-a-tell-act
you will...
see through...
and-tell-actual
intelligence...
stan sand
looking at the water
with less money than i had before
thinking about the latest person that was blessed with a lucky scratcher
i look down at my lunch
i look in the armrest compartment at my work badge
i look at the interior of my old lady faithful that i just had repaired
i think about my blessed mobility and what i can still do
then i look up and it has stopped raining and the skies are perfectly blue
suddenly i notice a waterfall that was not there before confidently winking its eye at me
the flow of the water is drawing inspiration from a now well rested sun
i guess i got it and this is some sort of approval gesture
maybe it is a Blessing From God for not only me as an unbeknownst reminder
whatever it is, i ask no questions and just roll with it
my lunch is hotter just like i like it and the orange cream soda is colder and just the right level of refreshing
all views are more thoroughly EnJoyed with New Meaning and with a New Fervor
This actual poet writes me silly poems.
He's there and I can't explain it.
A lifetime of experience and things lived I only imagine
and this actual, famous, poet writes me silly poems.
I wonder why me?? Why is he wasting time with me?
This sapient, hopelessly encouraging, ego-boosting poet
who writes me silly poems.
It's confusing.
My mind paints countless canvases of doubt,
like our connection is fragile tissue, perishable suds.
Surely one day I will find him bored and gone.
This actual, famous poet that writes me silly poems.
rumanative &
ancient
in gathering skies
of thunder&beating rain
groves&glades
with enormous boles
grasping at roots
&twisting sinews
clotted thatch corn stooks
sprinkled
&showered with a
thousand eyes
motley clothing fine meshes &
dappled skies&
mountains of light
enriching the actual present
pure&quaint
a crinkled Goth
pitting his English visions
with riches&fruitfulness
of urgent realities
in
prodigal
profusion
Hello love
Thanks so much
For the new shoes
You've got me
Walkin' in
You know they say you can't
Judge a person
Til you've walked a mile
In theirs
My new ones fit just fine
Along with my new life
You have made me believe
Again
In myself
I love how you love me
And I am waiting patiently
On everything to come together
I have finally found you
After all these years
What's a few more minutes?
I love this life
And I want you in it
My days you enamorate
I feel I've found my fate
These things I am feeling
My mind is reeling
I've got you in my sights
I've got you dead to rights
Thank you baby
You make me so happy
I am never gonna wear out these shoes
i ching and the tao
the opposites and between
chaos and order
You are beautiful
We've loved having you
But you will never see us again.
You were our everything
You were the only one
But you will never see us again.
We have to leave you now
We hope life works out for you
But we will never see you again.
Empirical, Actual and Real
Trump never heard of anything empirical;
He is very verbose about it and hysterical;
Well defined;
Not his mind,
And missing in vocabulary is actual and real.
Jim Horn
I think all that Trump is doing is providing
a tinsey iddy bitty more information from
his tinsey iddy bitty brain for Saturday Night
Live.
unidentified never to be found
mysterious trace evidence
unsourced so not a soul will see
to view a preferably maintained crime
is harder than it seems
hired gun dressed up
in workers dress
seems to all ways
to look the best
take your time
no one will see
your real job
is to quietly end me...
cardboard dust that sticks to walls
makes the best carcinoma pneumonia
for all
so many particular tricks and so little time to share them all
no neutrality, makes for a bad Nation
for some but not all
Sub Categories
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.