The aforementioned hedonism, strokes caught up wisdom unmatched by bearish grizzled forms artfully adorned who unmatched then seeks the goal, the post is moved like hell-bent verses that sway from lips underneath the stellar waves amber moons have come to fade, the shades dance in cunning bottled knowhow sent abyss, but she renounced the second wish, so one more laceration coming to the kin, akin to whiplash softly brims and send the message soft and clear, the dithery clouds have parted seer.
Writing generates
much self-satisfaction
especially when artfully done
Still we look for validation
Seeking recognition
From sources outside
Gold silver or bronze
Winning is that pat on the back
Somebody is listening and gets you
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Sulfurous pipettes steamed the last omega-crystal, the sore branch leeches its last resplendence of the season, and bookish kept in the bow of the festoon of leaves, and simple guurlick fabled and abreeze, and so the fruit spins eons and greater fawning realizations. If it was given perchance a look that it does actually have like saphire light that is without blueish asks, lesser boughs keel and balk and besties look for the lowest mark, and coax when next the wicked wind, that throws this fruit from timid limbs and unfurls that one waxing pearl, the low hanging fruit artfully yearns.
In realms where Time's the coin we spend,
Each tick and tock, a life-earned wage,
I'd hoard each breath, 'til purpose blend,
No moment squandered on an empty page.
My labor's worth? The measured heartbeats lent,
A craftsman's skill, in hours distilled,
To purchase dreams, a soul's intent,
A tapestry of moments, artfully filled.
To buy compassion, I'd a season spare,
A helping hand, a listening ear,
For solace shared, a burden to bear,
Investing Time to quell another's fear.
The rich, of course, would ages own,
Immortality, their gilded prize,
While paupers rush, their life force shown,
In hurried steps, beneath Time's watchful eyes.
But wisdom whispers, Time's true wealth,
Lies not in owning years untold,
But savoring each moment, finding health,
In stories lived, and futures to behold.
So, I would spend my Time with grace,
Each second cherished, light and free,
Embracing life, at my own pace,
A timeless legacy, for all to see.
A teen aesthete
wanders to the soul bartering crossroads
down from where the bus let off.
Gathering weeds and stray flowers
of windblown cemetery seeds.
To make a shrine, self inspired,
at the wayside of God.
To lend by ritual, and evocation
the passage of their development
lonely and gifted.
Shrugging off the ubiquitous pack
and taking from within; magical finds
discovered during cherished playtimes.
Collected in a self-adorned shoe box.
Things gleaned from treasure hunts
and fantastic pursuits.
A cache of light:
cat's eye marbles, chandelier crystals,
blue, clear, and green, sea glass
rolled and shaped by cousin sands.
Dull till spit wetted, salt licked.
By wave defying bravery
a pluck of pebble or sunny glimmer.
Run to Mom for her glamor, and approval.
Brought home in playful pockets
from beaches and picnics.
Now artfully laid in tearful grief.
Creating a mosaic of introspection.
The last to set in place
a paint chipped, wooden, geometric
puzzle piece.
An icon of fractured lullabies.
A dream ending; bare feet,
wet pajamas, and a long car ride.
may her flames never burn out
whilst I can rekindle active embers
all that lies beneath
fullness of beauty
this form, this aura
smoulders
though she lies sleeping
she lights the room
every aspect of her shining
I gaze upon fabric that drapes -
in awe that nothing that touches her skin
can fail to become beautiful also
she falls artfully into slumber
the very representation of a dream
shimmering as if a thousand sunsets
shroud and surround her
comfort she finds in her own frame
equilibrium, stillness -
breath may or may not disrupt
so I dare not breathe
for I do not wish to disturb this beauty
may she exist forevermore
resplendent as evening sun
for she transcends
what it is to be mortal
Autumn is a graceful ballerina.
Artfully displaying her charm, wisdom and colours.
Embracing the dance of death.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025, 3rd place 2026
Joie de vivre living artfully.
Enjoying the colourful subtleties of each day.
The whole experience enhanced exponentially.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A smorgasbord of tasty cheeses.
Different colours, textures and flavours to entice.
They're all so artfully displayed.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
pink buttercream clouds piping over indigo skies pique artfully
Serenity was in the air
Artfully she channeled grace with every stroke
A token to be treasured
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Once there was a young boy
who did not learn at the same pace
who did not race in the same
predictable race – while his peers
played with fish and ball – grew,
traditional degrees from short to tall,
his world turned at a different length
rate; more different, were his
timeless seasons – artfully Time
he took in his hands, whittled
with imagination into novel shape
and form – for him, Time was
never seen quite a constant norm --
in fact, could be reversed, or quickened
into infinitely….
This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped,
which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.
I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.
I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.
I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
Your golden calf
speaks artfully in my ear
marketing its millions of worshipers-
whispers of temptation to be like you-
If all life produces are idolators
from the gold calves they adore,
where are its gardeners
its realtors
its nourishers
its doctors
its listeners
its philosophers
it cleaners
its mothers
its fathers?
These are the pillars of society.
Remember this
and don't feel ashamed of who you were meant to be.
We all have a part to play on this sea of glass
and rocky debris
Age hasn’t softened me
Weakened me a bit, perhaps
I speak of a truth I’ve earned
Cherish the right to speak it
Often to the trees and stars
Sometimes cursing those in cars
I ponder often the mystery of
Whose truth is truer
Can all truth’s be true
Or must one concede
Tap-0ut in accepted defeat
My mother told us
“the truth only hurts when it’s supposed to.”
A mentor told me
“the truth is true and all is well
Unconquerable life prevails”
A less reliable figure told me
“kid, there’s a bit of a lie in every truth”
A cynic once shouted
“if a lie of the blackest will save ya
Then lie while ya have the breath in ya”
Therefore
I lie in the truth
Telling artfully truthful lies
Teasing forth from the unaware
The truth of their lies
And what lies in their truths
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.