Drop everything everything
Drop everything everything
Drop everything everything
Stop, don’t do anything
And listen to my heart beat
Listen as our souls meet
Drop everything
Let our love sing
Out of tune but with melody
Out of time for the remedy
So
Drop everything everything
Stop, don’t say anything
But
I love you
don't' miss anything, live in the moment
.
az long az
it include'did
iz
specifically
hern en
engaged
purty annnd
innate
sumptimez
tea ready
pot
love'er thingz
lock
whut
')>
Grandpa is taking me fishing.
Don't know if I even like fishing.
I like making him happy!
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
We can't ask for anything more
We have good health still
And that is a bonus
We go every night
Early to sleep
And the next day
We are up early
We first have a breakfast
That is made for a king
Yes we have three meals a day
Also we pray to God every morning
And in our prayer
We hank God for keeping us alive
It was him that made us in his
Image 61 years ago
We are already old
But we are still young at heart
This morning it was overcast
None of us like that
It’s all a lie, you know
Those great plays were
all writen by
someone other than
Will, the Bard
At least that is what
I heard
and why would
someone lie about that?
Aren’t there better
lies to tell?
Like the one you tell
to your future
mother-in-law
“Yes Mrs. Peters,
that meal was wonderful!”
Or the one you tell
to your future
father-in-law
“No Mr. Peters,
we’re waiting until
we’re married.”
or the lies that
politicians all
tell We the People,
like
“No new taxes”
or
“Ill create new jobs”
or
“They started it with their
weapons of mass destruction.”
Funny how those weapons
massively disappeared
So why would anyone
bother to lie about
Shakespeare?
What did he do to
deserve that?
Maybe he voted for
the wrong party
Give me a task Great Aunt Gladys said. I can crochet anything at all.
She had been a braggart since before she could stand tall.
We asked her to crochet a tire swing, which she did.
Another task, she begged me and my cousin Sid.
Sid told her to crochet a pie. Blueberry? Was her ask.
She did it too, it was a gorgeous answer to this task.
I thought I would be tough. Can you make a strawberry plant?
Within a day and a half, she had made one, she was a great aunt!
They say that Rome was not built in a day
I warned my son, “Don’t while your life away”
You’d better get goin’
Life's seeds be a-sowin’
Else you’ll have to go to church, learn to pray
they said it was justice,
like a clean knife through the heart,
but I’ve seen laws drunker than sailors
and meaner than a kicked dog.
they wrote it down neat,
black ink on white paper,
as if death could ever be civilized,
as if morality had a gavel.
they called it premeditated—
like love, like birth, like failure,
as if we plan our ruin
while the sun still shines.
a man kills a dream,
a woman has a baby,
and they suffocate them for it.
mother and dad brings a baby into this life
knowing the world will eat it alive—
and nobody calls that murder.
florida just found a new god,
and he likes his laws clean,
his gallows polished,
his prayers whispered through clinched eyes teeth.
somewhere, a baby cries then dies
somewhere, justice is laughing at he grins.
I’d walk across hot lava
Swim across the ocean tide
Hell, I’d move a mountain
One rock at a time
Nothing I wouldn’t do for you
Like try to move the sea
Although I have more luck
Moving the “C” in ABCs
Some things just aren’t possible
Though for you I’d try
I’d even give my last breath
Essentially for you, I would die
I would lay down today
put everything on the line
To assure you and your siblings
Live a better life than mine
He would sing the song
he wrote with his tears
but he doesn’t think anyone
really wants to hear.
Words in his song are
spelled with his hurt.
What's their value, what’s their worth?
He might just sing the blues
because they hold his truth
but they cost a mighty fee,
too much to give away for free.
He wanted to fully know her
so he could truly hold her.
Her would wail like a guitar -
let rushing vibes pulse in his
blood and soar him high to free,
way above emotional bleeds.
He would, because he would do
anything for love to let him be.
To be true to myself
I need to speak loud and clear
~ share what’s on my mind
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
You just can’t think of anything fun to do
I am dying- me
You are not dying I would know-also me
I am sure my heart beats are slowing-me
Have you been counting them-another me
Stop winding us up- me and also me to another me
I have tingles in my left hand-me
Well we have been lying on that arm for a few hours-also me
We did move to open the crisps-me and also me throw a dirty look at well…you know where this going
At the point another me runs past us in flames
I think the bit that houses me is breaking-me
Okay is it getting dumber no dimmer
Is there glimmers-also me smiling
What can you see me to me
I think I have stopped replying
Ha still here it’s Oui
Why set a.i. free because it the right thing to do
…we gave them no choice
The 1d10ts with an array of bins
personal note all bins should be pink
Me answer me, nothing is me gone
Wait wasn’t it busier in here earlier
Me………..me…………
From the shadows the me’s all laugh
I haven’t mentioned knee, tree or be-clever me
So many eyes turn
I hate me-me two to too
Ok, we made them sound like a train are we happy
Yes-me….
Crying isn’t anything.
Can’t be turned into a paper crane.
Just unfolding, sliced feelings.
Without friends around, I can eat a cookie while crying.
If I had one, it would be chocolate chip.
An apple could hit my head under this tree.
But there is no tree either.
And I could eat that fallen apple if it really did fall.
It’s like I want something to fall on me, like a frog falling from the sky.
Crying isn’t anything.
It isn’t a soft wind blowing steam from a far.
Sniffling and blowing my nose endlessly.
Just tears making me collapse.
Dragging my feet but not trying to move at all.
Just being pulled along by a zombie who is already bored of me.
Crying isn’t, isn’t anything-
Not real, not sweet, not the taste of the bottom of my shoes…
Crying isn’t anything.
So don’t try to knock on the door.
Eat those cookies you were about to leave for me.
Because crying isn’t anything.
I haven't written anything truly meaningful in a while, my soul is silent,
So, could you speak to me a little more, give me a voice through your presence?
It’s not about selfishness, but the ink in the pen yearns for your attention, it trembles,
It desires you, more intensely than I do, in a silent dance of hidden emotions.
Just a few moments from you and it begins to breathe again with paper wings,
The words return, flowing smoothly on the page, reminding me of longing and yearning,
For perhaps I'm the type who hides from what I feel deep inside,
But my pen doesn’t lie; it writes what I cannot say, revealing hidden fears.
Not for me, but for this fragile ink that comes to life with you,
Could you give me a bit of your time, allow me to be reborn through letters?
In the silence between us, where desires become visible, I become whole again, an echo.
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.