Best Absurd Poems


Litterally Absurd

A dog by the side of the road
Whelped out her cute little load
A copper who saw
Reeled off the law
Cited for littering I’m told
© Dean Wood  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Visions Absurd of Grandiosity

Overcome by a wave of curiosity
   I decided to try out seriosity
For which I'd no particular precocity
   'Twas an ill-fated breeze of impetuosity

With visions absurd of grandiosity
   I'd portray Julius Caesar with proper pomposity
Though, to be sure, my toga's fit was an atrocity
   Not to mention my Latin dialogue's tortuosity

Yet utterly convinced of my latent geniosity
   I spoke my lines with preternatural verbosity
Hark! Were those boos of unaccustomed ferocity?
   ~ To the nearest Exit, tomato-smeared, at hypervelocity...
Form: Monorhyme

Theater of the Absurd

All of us are born ignorant and some
Of us remain that way I'm sad to say.
The knowledgeable flourish and become
The shepherds, the dumb just piddle away
Their lives like sheep in a grassy pasture.
The ignorance in our society
Exists through our own design I am sure
To guarantee an apt propriety.
Without the sheep there can be no shepherds.
Therefore a symbiotic relation
Plays in the theater of the absurd.
There is no suitable explanation 
Don't even attempt to state a notion.
Our roles are predetermined one by one.
Form: Sonnet


Absurd Walls

Absurd Walls:
By Mark Miller 03/08/2018

I sit in wait,
For melancholic relief
Consumes self-trust resistance.
Out from the clear and into the black shatter dust. 
Although, I cannot explain its purpose or meaning for there is none. 
Awareness prevents comprehension to the future posture rectitude. 
Only leftovers illuminate on that origin which brings me to this momentary lapse. 
Where time and space have no relevance. 
The feeling of structure fades into the microwave static.
Only the emotion healing sustains. 
Somewhere, out there in the cosmos lies the basal complexional of coexistence. 
The complicit deranges. 
The peaceful transits,
Our group comfort loneliness 
Between the minimal change of selves, 
Through the pulsar's suddenness
 I return and am one with myself, 
Time wraps around the feeling dissipates,
Gone like childhood memory from everywhere.-

Absurd

To me, you are purely ephemeral;
We are irrelevantly real.
And I am left with no one but myself,
With this hollowness I feel.

And still, I am hardly here,
Just a mass of scattered free radicals.
A steady-state cascade;
A time-killing fanatical.

I laugh because it is absurd,
And carry on without a word.

She was blanched,
Scuffed like an epiphyses.
Gritted between molars,
Eyed blind,
Her body curved in magnificent sacrilege;
Flagrant,  
Inexplicitly mine.

My secondhand thing,
That some dub love.
I just gawped
Whenever she took it off;
And seeped 
Into the ground at her feet.

I woke up and remembered that there was nothing else;
I woke up and wondered why I hadn't killed myself.

I was dead set
On something but nothing and everything yet;
All meaning unmet.

All the null that added up to self;
All the lives that lie to blindly dwell.

I laugh because it is absurd;
The others dare not speak the word.

--

"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide." 

-Albert Camus, absurdist
© Jessica Vh  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Theater of the Absurd

I

What if this life is a play,
and we the actors each day,
an insane play for sick and sadistic amusement.

II

Oh, then life would be nothing,
existence would mean not a thing,
all our pain and suffering just a absurd plot.

III

The dead just discarded actors,
our life determined by chapters,
a chapter written by a mean, evil higher being.

IV

Perhaps this life is an experiment,
for some species entertainment,
in a theater absurd where we are zoo animals.

V

Or maybe whatever we do,
we play our part then its adieu,
our destiny planned, each path, our story written.

VI

We are part of a theater absurd,
we play a part word for word,
oh, wouldn't such a play be a sad, sad, sad read.

_____________________
February 2, 2017

Poetry/Verse/Theater of the Absurd
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 872-099-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Inspired by the contest, Theater of the Absurd
sponsor, Kia Michael Neuman

Eighth Place
Form: Verse


Absurd Little People

There once was a man named Camu
said suicide's the thing you should do..
your brief life’s got no meaning
Sartre: "That's what it's seeming"
The universe- as I-- don’t care a whit for you!
© Toni Orban  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Theatre of the Absurd

THEATRE OF THE ABSURD


Puppets, all parts, perpetually working.
Tense strings, plucked, with novice fingers.
Ruby sawdust sparkles with the warm sun.
Puppets on strings, such silly things!

A play set nearby, a seesaw, those twins –
Hansel and Gretel, balancing between life and death.
The wretched sound of falling trees, pulled
from resistant roots - ground shakes violently.

The buzzing of saws, like bees in a honey hive.
Splinters of puppet bone, praying for relief.
The lies that Pinocchio told - stubs compared to this.
The darkening of the witch’s wood, with terrible treats.

Wooden toes, stumble and tiptoe, over windswept limbs,
sending shivers through their gnawing cold bones,
as twigs fly and snap, popping of puppet props.
Leading the way, Ali Baba whispers “open sesame” -

They hide in a craven cave, whilst the forest implodes.
Perpetual motion, like watches, ticking of time-bombs.
Pinocchio cracks jokes, like he’s done this all before.
Treasures glisten in candlelight, “what have we done…”

Whispers of a forest saved, puppets clamorous in mine -
Their eyes like multicolored jewels, hideous in the gloom.
Redwoods run with stilt-like legs, banging at their door -
Begging for one last kindness, followed by sudden silence.

They arise at dawn, the parade of puppets on strings.
Silly things, characters performed by naïve children –
playing at war. They hear a cackle, as she, lures them inside.
Guard down, until the urchins ears bleed, with screams of kindling.

2/6/2017

Premium Member We - the Theatre of the Absurd

We

..protest the right of others to protest
while defending our right to free speech
shout down the voices of others
exercising their right to speak freely.

.. pick at the feast of democracy
like children playing with their food
in cafeteria-like rebellion
dining on peace while waging war.

.. rush past a fallen flag
to pick up litter
tape it to our bandolier
of  PC “merit” badges.

..riot in the streets
reeking havoc and destruction
upon our neighborhoods
and our neighbors.

..slander those who do not think
as we do, act as we do
question the motives of all
but ourselves.

..pray to gods
unknown
to those who pray
to other gods.

..walk past one another
unable to speak
for fear a greeting
may be offensive.

..huddle – herd like
in our “comfort groups”
fearful of
a stampede.


2/2/2017

submitted to – Theatre of the Absurd – Poetry Contest

They Call Her Abby Normal-Theatre of the Absurd

Whose brain?.......
Did you put in?......
Abby Someone....
Let me think.........
The label... on the jar....
read....Abby Normal....
I think.........
A creative monster.....
living inside..........
....................her head.

Who;
Does labor?
in the
Laboratory 
of a 
Creative Life?

It is.......the......
abnormal brain.
Sewn together
under
experiments....

With ;
Thoughts streaming
under .......high....
electrical currents. 

A lightening......
fast speed........
In a moment of
..............   Ideas.
         
                                (inspired by)
                "Mary Shelley's......Frankenstein"
                                   her quote
"Beware; for I am fearless and therefore powerful."
                                       and
      Mel Brooks. "Young Frankenstein." Movie.

An Absurd Tale-For Contest

I knocked on my neighbor's door over and over again
She was screaming at her orange cat whose name is Fen.
Fen had caught a mouse, something she should've appreciated,
but the kink in this tale is that Fen got sick and regurgitated.

Everything was out of order, so I engineered an admirable plan.
I scooped the mouse off her costly rug and flushed it down the can.
My irritable neighbor said it was an excellent solution to the confusion.
I kindly thanked her in a genial way and apologized for the intrusion.

That night I saw Fen wandering about. He emits weird noises after dark.
My Golden Retriever, Iris, added to the symphony with her generous bark.
By now you surely must be thinking that my story is silly and absurd.
You're right! There's not one iota of truth in it.   I made up every word.

7/12/2016
Make a Poem Contest
Writing Time: 35 minutes
Form: Rhyme

The Picture of a Child

(A poetic representation of this world unfolding before a child as he grows up to adolescence) 

He stood on a hill,
And saw a picture,
A silent stare at the universe,
Meaning without a description.

It hung by a branch,
Too weak to live,
The picture was of a child,
Represented by “force of will”.

An absurd birth,
The peace of wild things,
An uneasy existence,
And an an anxiety of seen things.

A slow rapture,
The sudden unbecoming,
Wonder and the magic,
And truth, that is forgiving.

The first instincts of animal,
Devoured by envy,
A dog killing a dog,
Ah! Such freedom for jealousy.

The red in our body,
The white in our souls,
And colourless love,
Forgotten but extolled.

Genuinity of our emotions,
Thoughts and reflections,
A circle of understanding,
A prism of actions.

The fascinating possibilities,
The pages drawn with wisdom,
The frightening limits,
And the boundaries of freedom.

Such remarkable coincidences,
Such abundance of peace,
Diversity of similar faces,
Such abundance of greed.

A weak thread,
Binding us all,
We are one and many,
The strongest knot.

The universe included,
And everyone’s dreams,
The revelations from that picture,
The flashes from within.

He stood on that hill,
And the glory became his,
The contrasts of creation,
But will he dare to live?

Vision of the Absurd

What is this fell beast, whose image swarms within my head?
An interloper, psychopomp, who gazes with the dead?
Swarming visions of the dark, Shades advance through Asphodel,
Silently shambling with minds dulled, no more secrets left to tell.
What can we look for in the light of tainted stars?
Looking for enlightened signs of blessed seminars
when there is nothing in this darkened sky to love us.
Gazing at the eternal cold expanse above us
and realizing, once more, with awe and dread,
the insignificance of everything that's bred.
With existential certainty on the long road ashore,
and nihilistic impulses screaming yet for more,
the road we walk can seem an endless nightmare.

but fear not, for fear has died
die gently, having never cried
see the world for what it was
embrace the world for what it is

Time and tide, shifting sands in the hourglass of time
swift approaching that climactic final climb.
Transcendental thoughts disorganize into the void that is eternity
and find peace in the emptiness of our existence.
© Syd Floyd  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Theatre of the Absurd

Some acted as per their roles and stage names,
while others didn't;
those who didn't created their roles and stage names,
creating a confusion on stage.

Roles mixed up and confusion ensued;
what was themed to be based on politicking,
became a ticking time bomb for the playwright's success.

Shocked he was when his play was applauded as the funniest
comedy in the history of the theatre
by the audience,
for he had written a political satire script.

Ironically, some of the people in the audience were politicians,
yet they still enjoyed the murky presentation of the play,
which they thought was orderly humor.
Form: Narrative

My Word, Absurd

I'm born again, Christian
have you not been listening
to my sincere admissions
every since I was a kitten

Ha, my kitchen
is too hot for Hell
keep on constructing 
my own prison, might as well
and then I shall escape it
a regular Houdini
stand atop my cell 
like the Hell conqueror 
I became so freely

An ocean I created
of problems, then solved them
bait on a line just like trout
do you follow?
hooked line and sinker
a thinker, who speaks out
absolutely absurd are the words
running from my mouth

I could never be liked too much
because everything is wrong
not a true believer? Says who
your stupid mom?
Oh the power of deception
if you need this filtered
white out is good for correction

The passion I wear
I let it out so all can hear
but I force no one to listen
like certain religions built on fear
it seems I am sorry already
do I feel guilty?
not really, but sometimes like you
I just feel empty

I'm free by my own admission
even though it seems like only
the Christians really listen
that's fine, for I still got the line
maybe I'll realize someday 
by my word, I am absurd
ever I have too much little time
please don't get me wrong
I respect bright, albeit enslaved minds
even those who don't respect mine.
© Bj Fard  Create an image from this poem.

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