VISIONS
influence
in
retrospect
posterity
dilapidated
ambivalent
with
fascinations
captivated
engraved
inspired
graduated
collaborations
engaged
in
the
prolific
durability
developed
stylised
&
adapted
distinct
&
synonymous
with
tantalising
symbols
The Fabian Society
thought we are as smart as can be
so we should run the country
and it will be so lovely
Accounting for their intellect
they study hard for no respect
but as it’s all they ever know
they live up high with you below
And even with the brains they have
they never socialise and laugh
or play in teams that forge connection
clever people meet rejection
Never learned to read the people
self assured they have no equal
thought themselves to be attractive
though awkward and Ill adapted
Still they see themselves the best
even though they fail the rest
they think life is all about brains
with their emotions lacking range
Just busy letting logic flow
a natural skill is all they know
never left their comfort zone
a know it all who’s never known
POSTIVES POSITIONED-:-
previously
adapted
horizons
laden
measures
in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION
formatted
suggested
outlined
technical
motifs
so TINCTURED
paletted
equivalence
strokes
I'VE SEARCHED FOR HAPPINESS IN THE MIDDLE OF CHAOS.
SOUGHT FOR LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.
ADAPTED TO THE DAY BECAUSE I WOULD ONLY COME ALIVE AND BE ACTIVE AT NIGHT.
SET OFF IN FEAR AND TREPIDATION, WHILE MANEUVERING AND HIDING IN THE SHADOWS.
ABSCONDING AND BEING ON THE RUN WAS ROUTINE
AND EMBEDDED IN MY DAILY LIFE.
DECISIONS, EXPERIENCES, AND LOST TIME ARE SCARS MARKED AND LEFT ON MY BODY.
I dreamt last night, about 'Home'
My 'home', not the place I grew up in, not the space I've adapted to...
My own home...
Where I can breathe freely,
No need to rush,
No tense environment,
No tough routine,
A home where I can rest without guilt, without being judged..
A home where no one counts what they provide..
A home where I can wear, eat, sleep according to my whims..
A home where my heart wouldn't break...
A home where I wasn't stressed about what 'they' would say...
A home where I didn't hear anyone say bad things about those who raised me...
A home where no one insults me...
I woke up...
It was a dream...
A weird one...
8 Feb 2026
I bought an amazing book and introduced it into my bookshelf,
It was a bit larger in volume so couldn't fit well and cried for immediate help.
Other books were displaced and disturbed due to its sudden appearance,
The books with rigid covers suffered a lot and carried the immense pain.
Those slightly thinners still adapted and won this fitting battle,
Rest of their neighbours which are relatively larger faced structural claim.
At last everything went wrong and some of them were halfway out from their row,
A very few were still attached to their own slots to provide the knowledge to grow.
Freedom, I Always Take
Former Offenister...
There It Is.
Make Simpler.
I Spoke With
My Poet Folk
Thought Was
Spoke As Squirrels Was.
Now They, So MANY!!!
Now... Silent???
Here, Still Here...
But Soundless All Spoke
So Squirrels Really Spoke?
I Like Better With
Soft...
Un.
Ummmmm.
That's What Is.
Reminder.
I Wish It Carve Out The Pure
Joy And Adapted Laughter
Before All The Squirrel
Scattering... I Know!
But, Where Did They Speak?
I'm So Selfish.
Oh Well...
hahahahaha...
Down A Fundementally
Quantumly Over Undertone
Long Longing Long
Octaves Bottomly Looms
The Darker Laughtered...
Not So Squeeky.
-Gray Squirrel
01-11-2026
You know that song, ‘Roll Over, Beethoven?’
I adapted it to the groove of my Fido
I cried oceans of tears.
And now I’m drowning.
Nobody sees me.
And now I’m shouting,
Because I am barely visible,
Oh, the right word is I am invisible.
I am completely under the water.
And my eyes can’t see anything.
My mind is in chaos.
Because it is crowded with many things.
Why can’t they hear me?
It’s so blue here,
I’m reaching for this liquid,
But my hands can’t touch it, as it’s so clear.
Do they even miss me?
I don’t think they do.
Because they won’t even have noticed me.
Drowning in this pool.
It’s completely dark here.
My lungs are filled with this water.
Now that I have stopped breathing,
so I can stop my heart from to shatter.
My body might now be pale and blue,
Just like the water,
I am now part of this sea.
The sea creatures have adapted to me.
Noticed me
Even though I was invisible
Because for the people outside this sea,
I was barely visible.
(adapted from an old pop song)
You loved me once, we grew apart.
I love you still: you have my heart
forever.
And what we were? No mystery:
the wide and graceful history
of life.
Don't let it die.
What we can be, what we can do
is up to me and up to you.
What we reap is what we choose:
what we keep or what we lose
forever.
The world is ours to tear apart
But what if it's too late to start
again?
Don't let it die,
don’t say goodbye
in the end.
Wrap This Around Your Metal Brains
Don’t sing along with her—
it upsets her, brings
her close friends into this.
And I’m only human, I think—
I was, or used to be anyway.
Not anymore. I stay awake,
hungry, not wanting
to eat food because
the girls and their dad have to.
I sneak down late, before sleep,
to rummage a bit—
only to be told not to eat
the food that is theirs.
I’ve adapted by losing weight.
With that came madness—
a sort of punishment.
I’m gorgeous and suffering
quietly so no one sees it,
reinforcing another solid,
popular mental illness,
by the way.
And this is my business,
my purpose: dull and witless.
Talking through this, I fear,
would scare a regular person.
I hate this.
I won’t talk to therapists.
Counseling’s out of the question.
I don’t have to pay anyone
for writing this. I don’t care.
Talking to people
I’m smarter than—
this way, one day,
when people come across this,
I’ll be the famous one.
(Posthumously.)
they all pushed me to the edge
and i fear this poet quickly adapted with it
everyone left after they entered, with sirens in the background
that told me enough and about the need to survive
everyone killed a version of me
yet i fight, heading back into my safe space
a circle that is very small
and only holds space for this poet
Nachman was a revered Sage
The greatest of his age
One day he came to his stand
Armless! What had happened?
The next day, no legs either
His students, now in a fever
On the morrow, his body covered with boils
Panic set in – Was that the reward for all of Nachman's toils?
Asked if to teach, he still could
He replied ~ ‘What happens is all for the good’
~ Adapted from part of the tale in the Talmud
of 'Nachum, Ish Gam-zo,' meaning 'Nachum,
the man who says, "This too is for the good."
Tractate Ta'anis / Fasting - Chapter Three,
page 10b
TEXT-IMAGE POETRY ART
This visual poetic form (inspired by the work of the conceptual artist Hamish Fulton's (b 1946) landscape 'text-and-image' work 'a seven day walk in the mountains Switzerland early summer 1984'.
FULTON is the name I gave in 2008 to this shape poetic form has 5 words of 5 letters or 3 words of 3 letters (as above) or 7 words of 7 letters & so on with a pastoral theme.
I called this form a FULTON as a tribute to Hamish and his art.I created(adapted) & (&labelled)as a tribute
Though life's worries pull us apart,
Through summer’s heat and winter’s heart,
A drop of my blood once fell here,
And I can’t pass this village, dear.
At first, we came with hesitation,
But soon adapted with dedication.
In ten years, it shaped who we are,
This modest school that seemed so far.
My homeland blessed me with its grace,
Its image forever in my heart's space.
It gave me all its sacred charms,
And kept a corner of my heart warm.
No kin of mine remains in this place,
No treasure I hid in its embrace.
Yet it pulls me like a magnet's might,
Even if I hold the world outright!
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.