Best Awl Poems
When eye was eating my serial this mourning
Aye red the hole rules four the contest
Eye sore it inn black and white
It was plane for all two sea
The sponsor said wee CAN make miss steaks
Butt too me this practise isn’t write,
Nun are aloud, they are usually band
Yule have guest its throne me off coarse
Ewe awl no wee kneed too right perfect poetry
How can wee expect two win
Hour poem mite bee bard
Weave always bean tolled Anne error can't bee maid
Sew is the fax I didn’t ewes my spell chequer a gambol…
May bee I knead a lessen how too rite inn the write tents two
Tell me strait, do my versus make any scents too ewe?
Who nose, my poem mite sale to a plaice at the top of the podium
Contest Don’t fight it ….write it!!!! – Sponsor John Lawless
08~13~15
A drop of paint upon a canvas,
a sketch on a warn tattered pad.
It's been said that Art can be timeless,
I say without it our world would be sad..
A drop of paint upon a canvas,
to draw Gods beauty in your own hand.
To capture a rose in it's full bloom,
having such talent must feel so grand..
A drop of paint upon a canvas,
a reflection of the artist eye.
To convey all the granger ,
in the dawn of the days new sky..
I stand in envy and in awl ,
and your praises I will sing.
For the gift that you possess,
to the table, I can not bring
So please paint us your impression,
of the life you see so true.
Give us something to live forever,
that is you, and only You..
'Tis know wander nor em aye telling yew anything gnu,
Hour tongue is awash with homophones confounding me end ewe.
Ah, two sea thee broad expenses from a towering mountain peek;
Thee pristeen see, thee rolling veil end meandering creak.
Watt a thrill two watch thee eagle as it sores threw thee heir;
With incisive ayes it seeks its pray with indomitable flare!
Sergeants ar knowted four naming voluntears write out of thee blew,
With that knot sew subtle commend, "Eye knead you, ewe end yew!"
Watt they were volunteared fore, they haven't thee slightest clew,
Butt that is a part of army life, beeing tolled watt two dew!
Wee're tolled inn thee Good Book that inn thee grate buy-end-bye,
Wee shell awl return two dust wen it comes hour our too dye.
It can bee etched upon my stone wen my life comes two a cease:
"Though he maid grate youse of homophones, Mae he lye inn piece!"
Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe wuz vary ahful tah mi,
God’s chile. Eye didden doyah nuttin.
’
Yah ‘sposed, tah bee ah liter rite?
Butt ya playin’ roun wit da won,
Whooz comin’ bak leyek ah,
Theef en dah nite.
Win yah ain’t treet mi rite,
Yah naglect’d dah powah uv God.
Cuz onlee wit Him ah wuz,
Ovalookin’ wat ewe wuz doin’,
Ta mi fah da harvest ,
Of God’s chirren bein’ edumacated,
Mi yah outrite hated.
Butt dats awrite God-n-eye,
Gon’ win dis feyght.
Ah wheel hav’ victuree cuz ah,
Choze ta spread luv butt ewe,
Choze ta spread mizuhree.
Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe ramyned mi uv ol’Pharoah,
Hoo woodn’t lett God’s pipahs goh.
Ah didden wanna fase yah awl dose
Otha daze.
Butt God help’d mi leyek God help’d,
Moses speek up tah ol’Pharoah.
God tole Moses tah lett mah pipahs goh.
God telling mi ta tale yah phake Pharoah
Tah lett mi chirren’s goh.
Ah noh ah hatta bee roun ewe sum moh.
Butt itell bee worfwile,
Cuz God wantz freedom,
Fah ebbery chile.
Yah hut mi fah alil wile,
Butt we’ll bee at da prahmased lan’,
An out uv yah Egypt.
Cuz fah awl uv uz ta prospa,
Iz God’s plan.
Ansoon we won’ be roun ewe no moh.
Wheel nat laugh leyek yah didaht mi.
Win trajudee nocks aht yah doh.
Wheel helpyah cuz God,
Wantz uz awl tah bee free.
Frum dah phake phone’ powah,
Uv da enumee.
wrote 6-27-10
Laying inn the grass watching the clouds float buy, my mined wanders aweigh as eye smell that apple pi.
I've patiently waited four spring and now that's it's hear awl eye want two dew is sit outside and drink a bier.
I've waited four warmer whether and too bee outdoors, butt today I'm stuck inside and that's such a boar.
Spring inn Pennsylvania isn't as it seams, it goes from wareing shorts on a Monday then down to zero degrees.
Lucky Mi!
04/27/2015
(Revised with new homophone added in. Thanks for the catch, Becca!)
*Wants upon **uh thyme inn uh would, uh vary gneiss prints named Hairy
met inn the missed, hi awn the bow of uh tree- uh ferry named Tarry.
The ferry felt lo, fore he was week, and he was inn knead of sum meet.
He bald, “Whoa is me. Eye cant even stand hear awn my own too feat!
My pour hart is braking, and I’m inn pane. The last thyme that eye eight
was daze ago. Ewe sea, I’m inn uh hays and due naught feel sow grate.
Eye parish and long fore whine and ham. Even bettor wood bee lam!
Butt eye wood settle four uh peace of bred with sum suite bury jam!”
Prints Hairy new he had sum mince, sum Tick Tax that **whir inn the pear
of gnu read genes he war. He took them out and waived them inn the heir.
*“Lickerish to, eye halve write hear!” Prints Hairy tolled the ferry.
“Its naught much, butt pleas dew eat. Later awn, wheel dyne and make marry.”
Prints Hairy placed the ferry Tarry aun his pail ***wight hoarse.
Then aweigh the roil with the ferry hastened aun his homeward coarse.
Awl day long they road and road. ***Wen the ferry started to grown.
Suddenly, from the hoarse, both the man and ferry whir throne.
Hungrily they paste beneath the setting son and threw the knight.
They pressed awn until mourning. Hairy’s residents came inn cite!
Prints Hairy’s wife had supper ready, and she’d maid uh pi.
From udder happiness, the ferry thought that he mite dye!
She *heeded up they’re food four them. They both had groan sew pail!
She listened as the ferry Tarry tolled his tragic tail . . .
of how heed lost his weigh and, four food, had knot won crumb
until her deer spouse rescued hymn. At last, his prints had come!
Written April 10, 2015, using homophones from various lists.
Note: I did not use letters, for example, U for “you” ; they were not on the lists I found.
Neither was “hee” which I was going to use for “he.”
The main list used was The HOMOPHONES LIST of John F Troutman and Joy A Miller
* these are a few more homophones I found on Wikipedia’s list.
** these homophones appear on Homophones.com, perhaps the most comprehensive one.
*** These homophones, perhaps antiquated, are from Suber & Thorpe British English
The DVD lady came over today
And she was Chinese
She knocked at my door
And as soon as I opened,
“You wanting teefeetee pleeease?”
“I haw new mowie and ca’toon
Awl ve’y gooo’
I giw yooou gooo’ price, I p’omise yooou
You wanting Robin Hooo’?”
“I am free tonight,” I thought to myself,
“and a movie would be great.”
I thought I’d buy one, but she sure didn’t
So I ended up buying eight
“Sank yooou my f ‘ iend, I cum back agaiiin”
She packed her CD’s and left
I played the disks, they sure were jammed
… now that’s black market theft!
For Deborah Guzzi's "Dialects Make the World Go Round!" contest
This is my Homophone contest submission
Ewe No A Lyre
their once was a man with a bore
who worked down at the local bizarre
the bore eight corn colonels four lunch
and blew genes whir awl the man war
owe the bore eight serial two
from a plait unlike me oar ewe
we wood knead a bowl and a spoon
ore a mop wood bee totally due
won fine weak day mourn wile working
he brood tee four the men who maid toys
making tee and giving assistants
was that witch maid the mane men
his buoys
his gnu fame was nice
and it urned hymn
a day too lien back and relax
sow he went strait too his sweet
and wile still on his feat
he eight mince, mustered, pees and bare meet
at work he aloud his ant two chute bawl
butt four know obvious reason at awl
she through bred and plumb pi at
the goal
he chaste her aweigh
butt owe my he felt sow bad
sew he cent her to scents and a flour
and aloud her two come back inn an our
the gilt she felt
brought her pane
four she new she ode hymn sew much
she gathered her teem just inn thyme
two sing thank ewe sow very much.
win he herd the whey
they whir singing
it brought a tier too his I
he ran too the gait
two waive wildly
wile screaming a hi pitched buy by.
by Rochelle Harris
Aisle never no watt kame over mi
too sine up four that coarse.
Eye shirley mussed halve lost my scents
oar bin throne off my hoarse.
They said they'd teach mi how two right,
know knead too halve thee blews...
and awl sew how too spell reel good
like own that grate Fochs Gnus.
Aye rote this peace of poet tree
and then wee red it awl allowed.
Then eye ran it threw thee spell Czech;
it was sew rite too dew yew prowed.
They taut mi how two bee a barred;
isle hall it inn two class today.
Aisle halve too take sum English Lit;
eyed knot take it annie other weigh.
Sea the wight-capped waives rolling inn the see;
here the howling wynds, wile I’m standing hear,
whale and forme hi waives. Theirs eh jumping wail-
tale upp inn the ayre! This should make gneiss tail
two tel wen eye get holm. Butt now theirs too
blew wales inn wiaves- there water spouts just blue!
Whether getting worse, kneed two sea weather
it's my thyme too lieve since wynd now blows it’s
grate, whiled sounds awl across the see, witch great
allowed and shriek. Could bee, I’m knot aloud
write hear two stay- dew knot want gnus too right,
“Sum man fell inn the see and payed the some
witch cost his life from storms angry whiled which.”
Week legs mite make mi sync and fall; eh weak
wood pass before they fined mi with eh would
bored inn my grippe from roe boat beet and board
bye waives and whild wynds that kame and flue buy.
Eye no, its thyme too lieve, cum back wen aye
cee com, and eye can stay eh wile two sea
wails jump inn waives without the wynd’s whiled whales.
April 7, 2015
~2nd Place~
Contest: Only Homo’s Allowed
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Judged: 04/30/2015
(Homophones)
I'm sorry for awl the prayers
Youse darn tootin' sure
we'll be gettin up for church
on a Monday mornin'
Huh dearie?
That brain is so itty bitty
I could pick it up- with
both thumbs
Like the invisible crumbs
laying- on our coats and pegs
ya hear?
Wrap 'em oats around yer legs
real good now
It'll rain
Oh lawd I know it will
everyday of our lives
it be rainin'.
There once was a mad-man with an ax.
Well known for some very shocking acts.
He runs down a church aisle
Chops the altar to a pile,
He hacks until their preacher reacts.
This mad-man went to a church Bazaar.
His bizarre shouts were heard from afar.
He walked in standing tall.
Waved his awl at them all,
Then, sped off in a get-away car -
One Sunday while wolfing a hot fryer,
The ax-man thought the Friar should retire.
He went to the Cathedral
I’ll say he was not cheerful
Town folks locked him away in the spire.
He stayed in that spire for awhile.
Hoping for a very speedy trial,
He sat on a bale
Then, cried out for bail.
He was exiled to a far away isle.
Copyright April 7, 2015
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Only Homo's Allowed
Sponsored by: Jerry T Curtis
Upon the meadows of my soul
in light my Savior walks with me,
and, oh, the bliss that there we find,
companions in tranquility.
Communion sweet! Earth knows not how
to counterfeit the peace He brings;
yet all I long for He provides.
My soul to Him in rapture clings.
The fragrance of our fellowship
wafts gently on the meadow's breeze;
each moment shared, a blossom, sweet;
His full attention all receive.
The wide expanses of my soul
yield boundless treasure to explore,
and what a precious Guide I found
when I surrendered, made Him Lord.
No hollow gouged by Sorrow's awl,
no cavern mined in great despair
is too deep for His love to fill,
too dark to see Him shining, fair.
The fiery trials burn the dross;
my silver He would purify
till gazing deep within my heart,
His image glows in clear reply.
Continual welcome may He find;
never in straying would I start.
Lord, stroll the meadows of my soul
and climb the mountains of my heart.
I want Thee always close to stay
to reign unchallenged in my breast;
how sweetly conquered is my soul,
how in surrender I find rest.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
I am a Savonarola chair
carved from discarded
remnants of cedar and birch that
littered our backyard -
waiting to be burned
or broken by a trespasser’s hands,
or tended to by the warm touch
of a gardener’s natural instinct;
an individual
who values growth
and prosperity.
I am an object
forged from splinters and sweat.
My four legs become six when your
spoiled bones and blackened hearts
grow weary.
Stilted fractures wax like leprosy
within your fumbled thoughts -
seeking respite as you recount
negligent actions upon broken fingers.
Father was a saw
and cut out his tongue.
Mother was an awl
boring through his visibility.
Ignorance sanded his face.
Blind eyes rendered him mute and
useless, like a comb without teeth
or a song-less linnet bird.
I am a piece of furniture.
A curio cabinet
curiously displaying your mistrust.
An end table advertising no family portraits.
An ottoman whose cushions knead
the detestation clinging like muck upon
the backsides of chafed ankles.
I am:
Father's severed chainsaw.
Mother's twisted liquor cap.
Sister's crumpled gum wrapper.
Brother's fleshtone punching bag.
I am a chair.
I serve a purpose - but not for you.
A chair can be slip-covered, polished,
straddled and veneered.
A child cannot.
I am most content when six legs
morph back into four.
Exuberant,
I then know my
private existence can breathe -
and the hardened antecedents
who took advantage
of my open arms and inviting lap
have grievingly walked away.
What a grate dey it is
Sonny whether and awl
Let's wring in Spring Brake
Thyme for fun, half a bawl.
Cum on, let's get aweigh
and lei on the beech
reed books by the serf
sea and bee scene.
Wheel watch waives bye the peer
Whet hour feat and hour tows
Ewe just mite meat Mr. Write
Theirs a chants, who nose?