Best Apt(P) Poems

COME ON SOUPER'S LETS HAVE SOME FUN AND MAKE FOLK SMILE DURING SUCH DIFFICULT TIMES FOR US ALL. THERE ARE LOTS MORE APT NAMES ...

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~ for my fellow poets ~


as slaves to the pen
or our keyboard, more apt
this molding of words
in a word, holds us rapt

fine fancies or fears
take...

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The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call...

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I was a zealous fashion designer, whose elegant styles were ever in vogue,
Like the rainbow time of cool, damp evening, that elegant colors go rogue.

Lost...

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All heads are bowed in Soup Creek today
The town’s elder statesman has passed on his way
A gentleman true whose tongue wasn’t forked
To whom people listened...

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I was a celebrated, professional psychic, offering glimpses of rosy future;
And helping people work through problems, like pink moon, come sooner.

I had learnt to talk...

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“Die Another Day”


“Your mission, should you so deem it,
Is to infiltrate ALL Fluff Clusters in K.A.O.S. Headquarters
And bloody well steam it!”


“The Place is a hazardous...

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Oh, if only ...

If only monsters ...
LOOKED like monsters.
If they lurked ONLY in the dark,
Glowing red eyes and chiseled teeth ...
Claws and horns and forked...

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Earth element of wind, elusive to exploring eyes,
a gaseous, gusty ghost, she gyrates- gallops gallantly.
She bashes, bends, and bobs the branches of each bush and...

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Will poems to my dull senses rise,
     In plainer garb, or apt disguise?
Can turn of phrase else serve an end,
 ...

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Pigs that swim the Caribbean aren't just silly rumors,
Polly is just such a pig, from the island of Exumas ...

Oh, Polly loves the water so,...

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Ave-Maria hymns lift you in flight
to Heaven’s gate apt angel does ascend
and follows lantern's light predawn of night
on star-dust wings for spirit a Godsend.

On April...

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Imagine misunderstandings,
When we talk about our friends,
If we did that talking to their FACE,
We'd be apt to make amends ...

Imagine, if hearing gossip,
We repeated not...

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Why do I self-express and share, indeed?
          For I am but a "dark and troubled seed"...

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Someday I'll get this sonnet writing right.
Sure, I can count ten syllables and rhyme,
then set my flock of metaphors to flight
and spin ten-dollar words from...

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