Best Angle Poems
An angle's porciln face is like butterfly fields,
and his rosy cheeks are like a dryd up rose petal.
An obtuse angle is an angle of greater than 90° and less than 180°. Wiki
I must be looking like an obtuse angle
in my funeral agent's eyes -
an over ninety years old,
(but less than one hundred and eighty)
indigent sunburnt naked geezer
who likes to meditate on the rooftop -
an egregious instance of treachery and immorality.
He is pretty delicate, my funeral agent, though,
when calling to enquire after my health.
- Nausea? - he's asking me with hope.
- Delirium?
- Convulsions?
Insouciance.
Freedom.
Awakening.
I'm sorry to disappoint him.
I like funeral agents:
they mediate between life and death
and consecrate the right to a decent funeral.
Alas, they attach too much importance to acute angles.
15/08/2019
Eight Word Challenge 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Still
life
upon
a mirror-
landscapes in the lake.
Years of the same view
Focus becomes more refined
Each lovely angle
Life is happier,
When you smiles.
Life is heavy-hearted,
When you cry.
Life is marvelous,
When we are together.
Life became plain-Jane,
When we are disturbed.
The best thing in the world,
Is when people love there nation.
The best thing in the land,
Is when human use there imagination.
You steer clear of society because you think it sinful
You say that the natural is not good,
Why don’t you admit to demanding bodily contrition from your kids?
The keeper of god’s love.
Being an Angel in the sky.
Watching you and I.
Sitting there on your cloud,
Playing cards, and hanging around.
Playing your harp.
Singing a song.
Hoping humans come along.
God says “ Angel go to earth, go find the person who spoke first
Bring him here bring him to me,
This is your mission you see. “
“Yes my lord.” The angel as gone to find the first person,
Who sang this song.
Amazing Grace, that super song.
Go find john, go find him, and bring along,
We need to know how he,
sung that song.
The slaves that have long gone,
The ships that carried this beautiful song,
Oh my gosh were as John gone?
He can’t go far, the planets so small,
Why his he not standing tall?
The tune for that song he did not create,
It was hummed by his cargo
A, dark mass of slaves in a horrid state.
John must of thought this was bad, and it made him so very sad .
Slaughtering Eng-lish not in anger but in a vikingr way nor in rangr using my servo of skald in poetica engraved within you may to wit grafa Dirt don’t hurt so they say, so dig Danzleikr, enjoy, do a little jig Please don’t pull out your har It is not English but not far I am not giving you the renna around nor kindling a fire upon fótr an about Do not worry a freknur on your head It not spoken much but it is not dead You use these words every day but maybe not Thursday Look in your own window but you’re the skipper, you know An ode to the old if to be so bold - A little help - ransack – rannsaka (to search a house) slaughter – slatra (to butcher), Víking meant an overseas expedition, and a vikingr was someone who went on one of these expeditions. Rangr (unjust/ wrong, Servo of skald - sword of artful poetry, window – vindauga (lit. “wind-eye”), foot – fótr
it is on nights like these were I desire her the most, a cold wet
winters night reminds me of the deepest conversations while our lips remained closed, our souls whispered words that echoed when you held me close saying I love you
endlessly, a women who fulfilled my every desire with her Absolut smile whom I loved unconditionally, who with a single kiss could defeat every evil witch I processed and
leave me breathless, but the women I would die for is dead.
you are the stranger
I wanted to know
hiding in the shadow
working your angle
an unseen danger
to my heart
the real you I still haven't met
the words I hear
sweet like honey
thick and vague
watching what you say
so nothing is conveyed
and no one can see into you
protection for all that you do
a feeling arranger
keeper of the key
that locks my love
nothing can free me
everything keeps you free
you were never in danger
of loving me
Angle of witches
Doom for passerby mortals
An orb signals their present
In a darkened end
He with a spiritual sight
Can watch them butcher their prey
Inspired by a horror movie
bright as a sunshine,
beautiful as a rose
and when she spoke words so kind
everywhere she went she brought noor
theirs no one like her you could ever see
she has a heart so weak,
but filled with pride
for its children to succeed and live a happy life.
wangle an angle
then you should try to tangle
with what they dangle
while you will waggle
a deal that you did haggle
along should straggle
Jim Horn
Jim Horn
High athwart global sphere
planet Earth doth app pear
tubby totally tubular as a mere
twinkling gem devoid of lesions from hare
brained schemes to exploit near
Gaea, where
legions of self aggrandizement tear
ring into all four corners
of terrestrial firmae orb *****
hull us wreaking indiscriminate havoc,
yet blithe dismissal mare
ring greedily inducing
brass knuckle sandwich lobbed punches
punctuating each pugilisitc
jude dee ish us punch with denunciatory jeer
accompanied in situ with a malicious glare
destroying staunch
eco-friendly advocates tabulated violations
kept under lock and key
within a filing cabinet dossier
to hell rants Donald Trump and his miscreants
in reference viz those “FAKE” defiant, hippo critical
defenders of Earth, wind, fire, and air
subject to rampant wanton (soup per) discrediting
substantiated scientifically airtight conclusion,
sans irrefutable linkedin cause and effect
against human perpetrators
rampant environmental abuse
pegged since that first Margarita
signaled industrial age crowdsourcing,
crowing, crowning deuce
ex machina leveling landscape until
scoured bowels of oblate spheroid glacis loose
to wring and extract sought after mineral wealth
essentially wrenching, hammering, nailing cinch,
which global gem analogous
to affixing a polarized noose
specific metals deemed precious
justifying reckless ramifications thin as gruel excuse
whereat said esteemed Mother Nature privy ledges
sheared to extract vis a vis akin to a sluice...
Abby,the name of an angle
blond beautiful hair
oh that face, a beautiful face
one of an angle, my angle
blue worm welcoming eyes
that is her eyes,that is her name
is as beautiful as her hair