Best Asymmetry Poems


Premium Member A Mystic Place To Live ------ Potd

Haphazardly, 	
Infinity and affinity mingled, 
In an asymmetry imbalance.

A dishevelled universe, 
Grew and shrank as fire devoured, 
Yet ice sustained.

Outrages currents swirled,
Straightened, dispersed, and garnered,
Dissipated into nothing, 
Only to surge again and again and again.

Until a soft soothing spirit unfurled itself, 
Protracting into every nook,
Fire and ice detached their selves 
Into their proper assumed place,

Light and darkness found their proper place. 
How harmonious was creation now!

Premium Member Try Poetry

TRY POETRY

           Try poetry and have an entry
          to world of poems, giggling in glittering gems.
          Read or recite or go through soliloquy
     or venture to compose letting your muse to release at ease.
  
     Let your imagery fly and soar high soothing you and inspiring readers.
           Try poetry in distress to unleash your stress.
            Try poetry in depression enlightening your mood.
        Try poetry in delight enhancing happiness.
             Try poetry in romance to feel warmest charm.
        Try poetry when pricked and pierced by passion.
        Try poetry to float in silent tidal emotion,
           even in tension when not to mention openly. 
     
       Try poetry in symmetry or asymmetry or in rhythmic rhyme.
          Let free verse chime rolling ringing harmonizing dormant dream.
      Try poetry to realize yourself enjoying creation and recreation
   
    02/22/19

     'Poetry and Me'  Contest by Silent One.

Beauty In Imperfection

The rugged bark of an old tree
with imperfection due to its cracks
is a wondrous thing of beauty
and it's the imperfection that attracts

We know that a star-shaped flower 
does not make a perfect star
Yet it has a certain loveliness
that induces a sense of wonder

A hand-crafted ceramic bowl
because of its asymmetry
is a wonderful artefact
that is valued very highly

An old-time cobblestone street
has a unique charm and quaintness
due to its imprecise pattern
that gives it its loveliness

Perfection is not easy to attain
and even more difficult to sustain
Beauty lies in Imperfection
and they are a natural combination


I Roll Bowl, Lawns I Know, Anti-Pestcontrol -Last Piece To Goblin Girl Trilogy

Breeders' Cannon Ball plays for days and decades even onto eras
Feeders on the bottom plus top down voodoo economics, no trickle
De-weeders? Why? Lawns are hype realistic so fake AF and anti-kith
Xeroscape like rape by statute not as consent is all we had and glad
as if LOVE LOVE like that is not welded onto the iron of our blood
our ICHOR revealed by the metal of my worth so all stop [fragment decay]

WE_SHE_BE and been found in the lost items bin or your heart box
Where few claim what they lost except employees that skim on whims
And random kids pretending to collect those sacred scatterings adding
Us all into the folk flying all stars from three to seven points and more
Up up to eleven and 127 plus 1 and another tenner and we are TEE H EX

Kate Bush ends spell of chant sans rhyme or beat and only written tell
By me that if your analyses searches for perfect supra-asymmetry balanced
By three points like MOEBIUS STRIPS or the landscape and felons well met 
By the grads and all the Parises of Helen not Troy or Sparta or Hades subjects
Troy how you fell and flowed onto us oh Troy built but no Dear John JUDY Green

WE ALL LOVE YOU THEAFANIA MI MAYOR HERMANA o ONEE CHAN WO AI NI
all ways and four eve her all believe her and such is lillith plus you LADY^4

Premium Member What We Seek

Asymmetry is
a plump wren perched
on a thin branch
contemplating
a ripe strawberry
stilled on a table

In its serene
pose does
the wren feel
ripeness or see
the redness or
is the setting
just a pas de deux
for one

Premium Member That's Poetry

Economy of language
       Rhythm and flow
     Heightened stylistics
       That's poetry, you know

     Metaphor, simile
       Allusions, imagery...

     Personal vendettas ~
       Unwelcome asymmetry


A Farewell To Wind

apologies to E. H.

"Blow, blow, ye western wind...  Christ, that my love were
in my arms and in my bed again"

Once she hated it, like Hemingway's Catherine 
hated rain, (I see myself dead in it).  Now, she sits 
in solitude at the gentle offspring that sidles, 
nay, croons, around the corners of a porch. Quietude 
is in its whispered wisdom, filtering insight 
into occluded childhood: Northeast ogre storms that 
belted the beach, blew stinging sheets of sand,

formed salt-spit scum onto bedroom windows
to blind a child who sought clarity.  
Now, in lieu of sea oats, a crepe myrtle blooms
full-out.  Skeletal in winter is an asymmetry she
loved, as in Ernest's "stark black sculptures"
of winter trees on walks in his Paris neighborhood,
but the blossoming myrtle lifts an abandoned nest,

its purpose a 'fait accompli", the babies flown 
like her own.  Beach lore did not prepare for how 
spring would bring empurpled flowering cones, leafy
branches returning the beauty, the familiar music
of birthing, here, in the eighty-first summer
of her life. "Eighty-one," asks the wind?
"It's just a number..."

The myrtle undulates, rustles, speaks
of passages with leaf-language that needs
no interpreter.  An assurance
of long lifetimes.  Fastened as they are,
they can bend and sway, giving signs
of grace that say, we can change,
We can  change
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.

Celebrate Imperfection Forget Identicalness

aye savor the faire genetic blueprint 
   extant unique to each of us 
   with this quite alimentary aire 
   including (that almighty, 
   bottom, cushiony, dimpled, 

   excretory functioning Gluteus Maximus 
   i.e. the tushy when bare   
with subtle difference sans, 
   both halves at first blush, 
   but tucks upon closer scrutiny 

   obvious inexactness crystal clear 
as a bell jar, asper each body electric, 
   whence deserved of en dear
ments despite however much junk in the trunk 

   behind the private 
   no trespassing (non verbalized) 
   signs posted everywhere 
off limits only to a select few like this bard 
   attired as if from the Renaissance Faire
whose unconditional acceptance 
   unlike the majority hoo gawk and glare

if bipedal hominid dealt 
   chromosomal traits say with excessive hair
which mane of tangled strands, 
   could be problematic and interfere
with coaxing, finagling, 
   or inducing friendship with an initial jeer

from him or her averse 
   toward such imperfection to boot
huff lawed physical human specimen 
   such as this ole coot
(who haint really that old),  

   can upon command execute
a feigned display 
   and appealing as fresh field picked fruit
at this stage of ma life 
   donut give a rats ass, nor an owlish hoot

what other may decry about me, 
cuz self acceptance doth agree
buzzing with greater confidence, esteem, 
   and general weaknesses such 
   as lack of physiognomy incongruent cee,

which asymmetry of this primate feel free
er than his pre/post pubescent 
   corporeal essence he
near put himself in the hand 
   of that grim reaper, a key
poor of lifeless beings, 

   and well nigh got hold da mee
when in the throes up 
   (vis a vis not bulimia) on Swiss side prithee
and as a solitary mwm gives no re
guard no matter others may find fault 
   in the stars at my lack of sim mutt tree
gnome hatter judgements made
   I accept mice elf warts and all – yippee!

Eternity: Patient, Precise

Symmetry of the clock,
near-symmetry of the calendar,
awkwardly near to the asymmetry
of captives who dutifully named them.
Sun, earth, moon, stars,
galaxies and clusters
and galaxies and clusters beyond,
and of them and within them
and aeons past them,
The Timekeepers. Calm and eternal.
Never to be seen or heard
and certainly never to be moved
by the irrational
and the self-destructive,
or by the rational 
and the guardians of morality;
not flustered by the flux and madness
as far as we can divine.

30th January 2019

You and Me

Asymmetry
Kitara

It is man and nature.
It is the ignorance and wisdom.
It is the civilised and the savage.
It is the old and the youth.
It is the good and the bad.
It is the tall and the short.
It is a man and his wife.
It is a friend and a foe.
It is the happy and the depressed.
It it the rich and the poor. 
It is the positive and the negative.
It is the sun and the moon.
It is the day and the night.
It is peace and war.
It is the dirty and the clean.
It it the expensive and the cheap.
It is heaven and hell.
It is the popular and the loner.
It is the truth and the lie.
It is a smile and a frown.
It is the girl and the boy.
It is forever and never.
It is life and death. 
It is you and me.

Premium Member I Dont Know

You hope that university will answer all of life’s questions, but nope.

I don’t know, 1.
There was a guy who’d been hanging around outside our residence lately. Too consistently. At first, I thought he was someone’s friend but he’s always alone. He wasn’t doing anything or bothering my roommates but that asymmetry set off my alarms.

He looked at me once (which I suppose isn’t a crime), I think, it was quick - a blink of sharp curiosity. I mentioned it to Charles who took his picture. The next morning he said the guy’s a legit student who has no criminal record, so maybe I’m all wrong.

Every girl’s encountered a creep or two before. They’re seemingly everywhere, as if mandated by law, like auto insurance. Most girls develop a sixth-sense, a creep-dar. Nowadays, creeps have a new name, “incel” ("involuntary celibate") and they’re a recognised, online subculture. Next, they’ll have a coat of arms proclaiming, “We Would if We Could.” It’s as if awkwardness, a normal human foible, has been distilled into something dangerous.

Although the campus looks like a garden or a perfectly manicured ‘stepford’ park, we joke that it’s really a locked-down, patrolled, surveilled compound, with guards, cameras and card-key access to everything. Which, I suppose, is all to the good.

Our creeper wasn’t there Friday, and he wasn’t there today, so maybe he was nothing.

I don’t know, 2.
I was in Sunny’s room. We were going shopping in a few. There was a little pink book on her bed - a diary!! I’d never seen it before and it was open, about three-quarters of the way. She too-casually moved to scoop it up, like the neglected book of a sorcerer.

My *GOSSIP-dar* Alerted like a class bell. “Hmm” I humed, head-tilted, then I laughingly lunged for the book.
Sunny’s eyes went wide for 3-billionths of a second and she snapped it up with the speed of a striking cobra, “That’s MINE” she said, rigid with seriousness.
“What’s going ON?!” I asked, but she shoved it into her night table. 
Another mystery!
‘Sleeping dogs,’ I thought to myself.

Premium Member Drawing and Painting

DRAWING AND PAINTING

                               Free hand Drawing is my addiction
                                        on lines, figures, shapes of Geometry
                                         designing in symmetry and asymmetry,
                                        exactly same as composing poetry
                            in rhymes, free verse! No restriction.

                          To sketch portrait, I fascinate,
                                         taking my Idols and high personalities,
                                         popular figure or celebrities,
                                         Dear Ones of lovable qualities,
                                I try to concentrate

                               I love to paint Natural panorama.
                                            as mountains, forests visited so far,
                                           lake, brook, stream or river,
                                           flying bird, sparkling star, blooming flower.
                                 Each I honour as prima.

                                   I wish to be a cartoonist
                                      carrying easy means of relaxation
                                      to release stress or tension.
                                      May not worth to mention,
                                  I am not so-called artist.            

  10/11/17

Premium Member Stunning Stranger SCHIZOPHRENIC

Written: May 23, 2024, For Charlotte Puddifoot Contest

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Always hear hollering hellhounds, yet nothing close, nobody home,
Paranoia, psychosis, schizophrenia, ponder lacked lucidity, pleaching, poohing...
Haggard horrors haunt house vapid vacuous voices vision vortex brain echolalia blizzard blurred,
Tongue-tied thesis tumbling thioridazine fragmented far-fetched foolish.
Calling a crisis center schizoid living outward echoing elusive illicit improper illusions,
Covert contact, surreptitiously scrambled temporal touch twisted, crazy confusion,
Crushed stone stillness devours daylight dubious demons daring devastation temped talking back
Lurking, leering, licentious, catatonic, gloom, diabolical hostility Asymmetry alien attack,
A hebephrenic sponge spotted sapidity, created from amorphous stardust
Spiritual medium anathematizes purest spirit, holy sight scrupulousness
Highly sensitive slip-hold around ethereal auric field questing for quetiapine quiddity,
Seraphic spirit shined with cyan mystical majesty under full light lavender moon, 
Quid pro quo, eugenic resile lobotomized deflated phosphorescent schizophrenia
Ignoring magnificent mind suffered puerile mental wellness, without grasp: why!
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Asymmetry

Today, let's be asymmetrical as we have never been
                 before
                           Let's listen to a music station we haven't enjoyed prior to
                               today
                                Let's eat at that restaurant our friends recommended;
                                                we
                                                  can order some exotic dish that we never
                                                             have
                                      Let's go enjoy that museum we've been to almost
                                                                     never
                 Let's attend a lecture at our neighborhood library we don't go to
                                                                       much
                 Let's pay a friendly visit to that uncle whose politics we've never
                                                                       embraced
                              Let's put on our bathing suits and lie in the shade for a
                                                                    change -
               Let's volunteer at a soup kitchen and feel good about doing some
                                                             good
                           Let's put our creativity berets on, and write a song in 5/4
                                                time
                                After that, we can join a fund-raising walk-a-thon just
                                       for
                  the love of humanity! When we get home I think it would be
                           a
      nice gesture to call customer service and say "Just sending you a verbal
              hug!"


before today we
have never much embraced change -
good time for a hug!


[haibun]
written 19 Aug 2020
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

Antiquity

In my blistered ruined mind 
I build odd gods, old! 
They sit in irregular rows,
In a crooked cathedral ,

Like a pantheon of ornate oddities! 
Each one dusty or lost, I have forgotten
Honesty…!

Cracked white china and blue filagree…
Each a stony façade,
Carved eyes hollow, staring! 

Absolutely hollow and odd… 
Staring like little divinities!
Sitting in irregular rows.

In a pantheon built of ancient asymmetry.

I have devised until my demise…
These are forgotten Ancient ones, 
The little divinities of broken antiquity!

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace