Before the first tongue
suffered the burden of naming,
the garden possessed
its own onomasticon:
Leaf,
Lumen,
Lark,
and one white rose—
an inviolate effulgence
ensphered in dew.
No creature
contested its quietude.
The bee
Received.
The wind,
that elder philologer,
declined dominion.
Only the hand,
catechised by appetite,
confounded wonder
with warrant.
Then
the stem vouchsafed
its green apostrophes.
One thorn
solicited blood
before blood
solicited speech.
Yet the blossom
Withdrew
no redolence.
Its whiteness,
anamnetic of snowfall,
absolved the very air
that coveted it.
Only at vespers
did the ordinance
become legible:
the thorn
was never
the flower's severity,
but sanctity
Assuming
the grammar of sap—
Creation's final rubric,
lest beatitude,
Misparsed
as possession,
translate Eden
into rubble.
Dashes, burst in flashes!
Apostrophes, aim well!
Commas, strong thy slashes!
Punctuation, pell-mell!
Ancient pyramid, the moon.
When you gaze, seen: what?
Troubadour, best hold thy tune!
Poet, make the cut!
Toil, recoil, beneath the soil.
Ensconce, O seance.
Ailing patient, insides roil?
Mud, sir. For the nonce.
Ivy, cover all you see.
As a blanket be.
Greenery, grow constantly!
Ocean link to sea!
Causal chain, blight with thy bane?
Well, friend, I'd best not.
Reality to remain?
Death is thine, robot.
Spirit of tomorrow!
In thy name we invoke!
Bitter is to borrow.
Signal well, O smoke.
Lightning, storms. They come in swarms!
Angry spirit forms!
Nightmare, violate the norms!
He who freezes warms!
Thus lava, O volcano!
Eruption, firework!
Dappled roe, run mid the flow!
Carrion crow, berserk!
Coat stand tree commingling clan protects
Quilted caterpillar sticks linen to spine
Pine foliage erect points to its apex
Before its born, spire spreads star shine
Swooping swivel neck owl huddles, human eyes
Scan heaven, hook beak hoots transmit signal
For seraphim shifting, shades of dove devise
Butterfly current shaken napkin nimble
Venture from avenues of arrow quivers
Dispell dictating army apostrophes
Barrel roll ballistic, blank space delivers
Delight due outside barracks claustrophobic
Antenna tuned owl throatily purrs
Pleasure for butterfly’s fast learned journey, laughed
Drift under dry angel feathers, breeze spurs
Freedom wish from wizard to aloof aircraft
27 January 2025
Written for Contest:
Embodying the Light
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
I sing Shahana Bahar, a malody of delight.
It echoed aloud, Marwa, music of sadness-filled plight
I laugh aloud and I hear it back as a scary scream
My gleam of glee turns into hallucinatory dream
Each false virtue that I hate haunts me like a hounds unbound.
Trust and mistrust amalgamate and make meaningless sound.
The impressions I form to attract all, impress no one
Amidst my endless fights, no inner battles I have won.
Efforts that give the illusion of success often fail.
Why does fate prompt me to upset the boat when I still sail?
Convictions are converted into crude catastrophes.
Punctuations of quotations close as apostrophes
With silences of bridge, ledge, and edge, badge, bodge, and budge clash
Amidst pitch dark clouds torches of light as thunderbolts flash
Sounds of church bells peal from graves where tolling knells are hidden.
Though echoes sound true, is disclosure of truth forbidden?
It should have said St John’s - with that apostrophe!
So many omit the little mark.
How could they, when its presence or absence
gives us one meaning or the other?
A tenant within these apartments
who is a mysterious lady,
placed the absent apostrophe on that poster,
kept this nighttime act a secret, and crept away.
St John was a saint we remember,
on the twenty-fourth of June:
it’s St John’s Day.
And this little mark marks that.
Without this modest mark, this little apostrophe,
we have a plural, not a possessive.
So how many Johns were there?
Or are these apartments named
after just the one John, as we’re told -
the one that has that little apostrophe?
Often do I wonder who
the mysterious tenant is, the one
who posts missing apostrophes.
(3 Sep 2024)
“Why would you write a poem about me?”
“Oh, I wrote more than just one poem about you”
“Why would you write more than just one poem about me?”
It was exactly then, when she felt her fingers freezing during this summer breeze.
Sweat was all over her knees,
She trembles and then remembered he can not see her to be..
She took a deep breath, started to type
“Because everything about you, is alive enough to be inscribed” she thought..
“Press on delete, and try again”, she said to herself,,
“Because I believe you are worthy” she texted back..
thinking “that is so cold” she muttered..
Maybe one day,
The world would be fair,
For her to speak aloud, or louder
For him to hear her silence..
Book: Connected apostrophes
A semi-colon connects two thoughts together
An exclamation mark screams out its cause
You don’t have to wait until the end to breathe
a comma can give you a pause
A question mark begs for an answer
Quotations usually mean this is not mine
A colon tells me there is a list
or the second and first parts are combined
Then there is the hyphen, En dash, and Em dash
It’s really hard to tell them apart
The hyphen is the shortest and Em is longer
to explain them I would not know where to start
Don’t forget about parentheses and apostrophes
Slashes, brackets, ellipses, and…other stuff
But my favorite punctuation is the period
it tells me when enough is enough.
Candescence
Auburn plains spread before me while the sun dips in curtsy to the moon.
Violet hued reds against pastel periwinkles radiate out in a cloud of color amongst the obscuring fog, becoming spirits.
The weeping willow bows in its lonesome and waits for autumn's death driving gaze.
The warm grasp of steaming apples and the cool whisper of winter's arrival blooms moments so unique and so familiar.
Cinders and ash pierce through cavities barren and hallowed by years of sheltering storms.
Proffered supplies of acceptance present problems for denial.
Piceous
Don’t do the rhyme if you ain’t got the time.
Nothing is worse than a half-finished verse.
If you want to complete her, you’ll need a good meter.
(‘Tis said that the bard brought the girls to the yard.)
Don’t use words in a poem if you don’t really know ‘em.
Great gasp! Bloody heck! Have you heard of spellcheck?
Your free verse is free… of all grammar, I see.
Watch those apostrophes to avoid apostasy.
Bad punctuation brings the downfall of nations.
Long lines are killable, so be watching the syllables.
If the subject is tumors, at least use some humor.
If it’s garbled and confused, don’t shoot the muse.
If poetry’s hard, well, don’t blame the bard.
If you’re not having fun, this career’s not the one.
You’re not making money? I’m not either, honey.
And listen here, Missy, that’s pithy, not pissy.
I’d have more retorts, but I’d best keep it short.
Don’t use special characters!
In writing I was told,
Next to the title of my poem.
(The letters black and bold.)
“Poems Don’t Have to Rhyme,” is what
I chose to name my piece,
But with this title, what I wrote
The site would not release.
For only letters, numbers, dashes,
Commas are allowed;
Apostrophes and colons, too,
Are welcomed in that crowd.
I looked back at my heading
And I didn’t understand
Exactly how it merited
That tyrant-like command.
I had to change my title –
It’s called “Poems” now on my list,
But someone messing with my words
Makes me feel awfully pissed.
Capitalization and punctuation are automatic to me.
It is what I was taught years ago, and I cannot break the habit.
Haiku is difficult for others insist on no apostrophes or caps.
It is difficult to unlearn what has been instilled and boy was this instilled.
All of those quizzes and tests, which I thought were a waste of time.
Then I began reading other people’s writings, and I was stunned.
Two, to, and too are incorrectly used so many times; too many times.
I get a sense that apostrophes are thrown in willy-nilly for no good reason.
How many times have I seen it’s when they do not mean it is, rather ownership.
To not capitalize a proper noun infuriates my internal gauges.
I am incensed when punctuation is off kilter also.
Checking and rechecking my own work to an idiotic degree.
I am such a product of the sixties, growing up in the corn state.
The home of the ITBS.
Apostrophes make
Contractions and possessions,
Not homemade "plural’s"
As steam swirls from a warm cup, twirling in loops of love,
as laces interweave across trainers, like lattice fingers holding.
As buttons fit into holes and belts into buckles,
as apostrophes show belonging, as paint clings to brush.
As switch directs electricity and key sparks an ignition,
as tongues with teeth create speech, as lids softly protect an eye.
The chain to a flush, the red to a blush,
the feather to a wing, the finger to a ring.
The table to chair, the scalp to hair,
the glasses to sight, the stars to night.
Like dos, zwei and bi,
just us two - you and I.
Only letters, numbers,
dashes, commas,
apostrophes
and colons
are allowed
in the title.
though this sentence
ends in a period
periods aren't
allowed at
all
period!!!
what's more bothersome
written in red as if from
the blood of my pen
Don't Use
Special
Characters
but
thinking
i always thought
that colons were special
i have one in my body
colonoscopy
I am below a zero, a zero
I am a dash, a quiet hero
Mellowness and meekness is what I seek and I am proud
Humility, love, desire, benevolence, bravery and confidence is what I beseech
I am but a dash in your eyes...silence within speaks loud
I will be practicing my solitude speech while you practice what you preach!
I am not a crazy colon
I am a soul, oh so alone
I can't stand hearing your apostrophes scream at me constantly...
You're speaking loud, but I'm ignoring on purpose honestly...
I am the numbers and letters of your heart apparently
I am not a comma because I don't pause for you to catch up frankly
Keep up with my wondrously-made writing skills
Or you can always pay up the upcoming bills
You're flawless, regardless of annoying me
I am bewildered, yet comforted suddenly
I am but a dash, a hero of I-forgive-you
I live for your echoes of empathy so true
I am not a crazy colon:
I am not a comma,
I will say it in apostrophes: "I am a dash and that's that -"
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.