Best Aye Poems
Writers wrong readers with wiles
Please protect poetry and prose
From flagrant fraudulent fancies
Of overwritten odius odes.
A related collection of poetry
Now can be published at whim.
The author just needs lots of money,
Hubris,and perhaps a few pencils or pens.
Once the selection is published,
Layman will fawn at the elequent jewels,
Of eight words of lithe, flowery meter,
Grouped together by formal,old rules,
You and I know better,we can't be fooled.
Another anthology appears
Boldly boasting ballades
Can't construct cinquain
Ditto deconconstructing didactic
Easy efforts elevate essentially
Fabulous flippery, fun, fauxmance.
Give gifts ,gaity, glory
Hide hyperbole ,hail honesty
Ignore idiosincricy
Jubilant jeweled jots,
Krielle knowledge,
Luminates lovers learning.
Masters manage monoku
No one notices nonsense
Only ones own oratory
Presents problems personally
Quatern quixotically quizes
Rhymers,readers, royalaires.
Simples statements said softly
Translate terse tense truthfully
Unless unabridged
Villanelles vex vaguries
Written without wordiness
Yes,you yearn, yearn yonder
Zee's zero
For Deb's Challenge A A and a Mistress
Brenda Atry
A- My Letter- Aye
Why- Y? No- A
This first letter of the Alphabet
Seems so simple, yet so complex
Explains my brains, history and mystery
Some makes sense, same profound, some slippery,
some confused and, At times blistery
A- My name. Aquarius – my sign, no shame
I live in Awe of Antiquity – add a small Army to my Acclaim
I claim no fame- just the American way.
Awe in so many things- simple praise to the “A”-
May I start with Ale and Apes- not together mind you
Ale was my way- red or blonde- I'd pack it away
Apes were my salvation from Ale- to Ax my Aloof decay-
Animals became my Attraction
my Abstract Ambition to Ardent – AGAPE-
Alumni to personal escape-
Ankh was a chosen forever symbol for Avenging Ambition
Of Allegiance and Appreciation
An Absentminded Argument for my own Awe
Defending it was a guffaw.
A stronghold of an Ablazed Angels Amour-
Belief's Anchored Ardor.
Art Aspired from hundred of Acres of Aquatic life
Appreciated by husband and wife
Acoustic strings ring in the night
Alight passions of two Aquarians hearts, desire
and playful sprites.
Wood chew believe aye took stock...?
Upon a whim, an endeavor
arose to communicate
cumulative key whatchamacallit,
yea...nuggets o' wisdom, asper
about yours truly no reason, nor
rhyme unwinding, tooling sputtering
most vexing mystery more
baffling than any whodunnit,
asper in this ole rattle trap to whit,
which drab filler hoop fully doth newt
induce thee to vomit
while this true bore doer sits here twit
tilling thumbs, one doubting Thomas
addresses, (albeit favoring abridged titbit
alphabetized list), I attempt (collusion
gluten, GMO free), aye solicit
motley fool, not to accrue superprofit
unbiased worded atypical, bohemian
rhapsodizing non mercurial portrait
most challenged since umpteenth orbit
whiling away this last May 2019 Tuesday
around nearest star circle game
impossible mission exit
or at least until after exhausting
without courting death
senescence to delimit.
ME? ANTI THE FOLLOWING::>
aggression, alcohol, apartheid, authoritarianism,
billboard, bureaucratic, censorship, church,
cigarette, anticlericalism, anticolonialism,
commercialism, communism, conglomerate,
conventional, corporate, corruption,
counterfeiting, crime, cruelty, cult, defamation,
diarrheal, dogmatic, dumping, elitism,
establishmentarianism, fascism,
fashion, formalist, fraud, fur, guerilla, gun,
hierarchical, hijack, hunter, king, illiterate,
litter, lynching, macho, materialism, militarism,
miscegenation, monarchical, monopolist,
mosquito, nationalist, nepotism, noise, nuclear,
obesity, pesticide, plague, pollution, poverty,
racist, racketeering, rape, religion, revolutionary,
riot, royalist, sexist, shoplifting, slavery, smog,
smoker, smuggling, snob, subversive, tax,
terrorist, theft, tobacco, totalitarian, violence,
vivisectionist, welfare.
What About You?
There is a mammal in Madagascar that is nearing extinction
Who, through an unusual evolution, has a unique distinction
Like a woodpecker, it taps on the trees through the bark
Vibrating insects and bugs to eat in the dark.
Instead of a beak it uses a long digit on its hands
The middle one having grown to a rather long expanse
Its tapping at night makes a unique forest sound
And with its long middle digit it scoops up the grubs that it found.
The name of this primate? It’s called the Aye-aye,
And due to deforestation it’s a species going bye-bye
But for the few years on this planet it still might linger
It looks like to me, they’re giving man the finger.
Absolutely true – look it up.
Aye Ireland -
king of the ol’ plains,
ye beacon us back to
the land of shamrocks,
wid yer pubs-n-ale,
mates and song,
and Celtic traditions
wid Gaelic delight.
Aye Ireland,
on Saint Patty’s Day
ye awaken us
to yer majestic beauty,
panoramic shores,
tranquil life,
courageous history
and aye,
yer lovely Irish maidens.
Aye Ireland –
through trails
and tribulation
yer sparkle endures.
Ye embrace faith,
play hard,
laugh hardy
feel yer hearts wid joy
and love
wid deliberation
and purpose.
Aye Ireland -
beautiful Ireland,
king of the ol’ plains –
ye beacon us.
bhí dhá labhra budh rí ar seanchlár
Aye, Spanish Needles, far from native shore
We the Diaspora exult to meet
Though our station, not what we dreamt of yore
Is battered by grimy dust and slimed sleet
Aye, Spanish Needles, still unbowed you stand
A dazzling prince in a far foreign land.
Dreaming gold reposed on ivory stars
Where evening's chill draws near the weary night
Shining still despite dusty mannered cars
Aloof in their suburban hedge from blight
I see you huddled in mass fore my eyes
Aching through El Dorado's balmy sighs
Extreme doubt supposed in old poet's tale
Of woodland springs and love's certain patience
Your hardy forms admit a desert gale
Thrashing grim your tropic resilience,
Beside beaten edges, and brackish yards
Still hold time's beauty against fate's crude cards.
Aye, Spanish Needles, resident aliens
From another shore, what long age brought you
From the ocean's salt milk, and fresh grievance
To stake your claim to Conquistadors' clue
This Florida had breast to fountain new youth?
Will you now tell islands this empty truth?
Juan Ponce De Leon took back nothing too
Except the joy of the great river here
But I have seen gold softened by silk dew
On regal petals protesting time's wear
And I have kept better company than
Ribault, Jackson, or the old Cowford clan.
Aye, Spanish Needles, brother of the earth
With me, dare my heart now its hope to green
Like you from this rustic place telling mirth
In golden gold and whitest white yet seen
Something in your character is changed here
Something common is now a beauty rare.
It is the mettle of our birth for each pain
To mirth, and wear love's beauty like the stars
Singing redemption songs with tears for rain
And count for medals our battles bright scars
Aye, Spanish Needles, bright golden and white
My heart like a ship rejoice you hold the light.
Beside the beaten edge in full abandon
There prolific in your numbers, a car
Of rubbery resilience, in my
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi's contest
3 poems alliteration, acrostic, and ABC poem together on one page.
Sunshine
Under blue skies
Naked flesh revived
Sensually stimulating
Hours become minutes
Intimate revelation of self
Nap included to ponder the view
Earth to sky
Fake falsies flash and flutter finely from Felicia's face
Fragrant flowing and flouncing flattery
Furnishes floors and floors of faux finery
Fifty-five Ford Fairlane flies Felicia from fast to flirty
Fixed in the forever to find fiction facinating
Another poem in cyber space
Bought by brain stimulation
Cynical thoughts
Don't pay the bills
Every letter must be represented
Freakish F was not harmed in the making of this poem
Guts and glory touched our lives
However I jest....
In time no one will really care
Just a judge possibly of mistakes
Kill no kiss me I'm an Irish spud lover
Lies will get you everything
Mostly short lived though
No one really wants the truth
Open that dead can of worms and phew! What a foul smell!!
Pleeeeeaaase!! Let dead worms lie
Quick!! Close the lid!!
Really man close the lid!!
Seriously though I am really enjoying this little poem.
Together we can conquer poetic forms
Under no occasion should you try this at home, alone
Verily, Verily the alphabet is getting towards the end
Why oh why are there only twenty-six??
X my fun!? No you can't!
Zebra stripe gum is still sold in forty eight-states
Yeah!! Fun will stay!
I’d deem today as
my gloomiest day ever
I feel doomed but nay
ill-fated but otherwise
aye, having a bad hair day!
04/13/16
Aye, ‘Tis His Brogue
A stout Guinness will cause him to sing
a second will sharpen tongue’s sting
and after that
‘tis a known fact
he’ll talk for an hour and not say a thing.
John G. Lawless
1/22/2017
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather
fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) -
which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.
though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed
nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error),
would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament
no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and
absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!
HIS WISH TO STOP ZEBRAS FISHING
Zebras you, Xavier, want very urgently to sit real quiet,
Pound over numberless marine liquid kilometers just in haste,
Going for every dogfish casually basking around.
(Reverse ABC )
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ACROSTIC
How to stop them
Is the problem
So let's start to think . . .
Where are these zebras going
In such haste
Searching for
Hours and hours
Till the sun dips
Over the hill and
Sunset arrives?
They need fish
Or else their hunger
Pains will exceed those of any
Zebra, crocodile
Elephant, rhinoceros
Buffalo or dog,
Roaring with pains
All through their
Stomachs : so
For God’s sake
In the name of mealtimes
Suffer the little zebras,
However striped and horse-like,
In their passion for dogfish.
No doubt Xavier's - like the zebra’s -
Gotta eat too.
( Acrostic reads “HIS WISH - TO STOP ZEBRAS FISHING” )
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ALL XAVIER’S ANIMALS HAVE THEIR ROLES
Zebras zoom zestfully - zombies zipping,
But - basking between big broad
Dogfish doing dances, diving, dripping -
Shy shellfish stop, sitting serenely still, so several survive,
Casually caring, clearly cooperating,
And always active and artfully alive.
My male mallard merry makes -
Quickly quacking, quietly quiescent -
Loving long-lasting little liquid lakes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's Contest "Aye, Aye, and A Mistress"
Sans Whole Body Out Of Country Transplant
hmm...methinks mebbe aye
can empty the ocean
one teaspoon at time bine bye
and after about
a bajillion years cry
tears of joy, when mine
petrified organs of sight decry
solid sea floor to mud dill
across to Iceland eye
would readily forsake
United States citizenship,
and buzzfeed akin to a human fly
hooping genuine emotional
physical, or spiritual
philanthropic gratuity
could be accepted
'pon being bequeathed
from this guy
'course after friendly
bantering initiated with "hi"
and once settling upon lingua franca
as modus operandi
this wholesome casual
conversant chap would appeal
himself as (non GMO gluten, and
monosodium glutamate free) bonemeal
suitable *****sapien reserved
quite pleasingly congenial
to shake hands after
mutual agreement reached,
whereby roundly accepted
apprenticeship contractual stipulations
understood asper "Art of the deal,"
an awesomely empyreal
corroborate burning man
Matthew Scott Harris
in effigy "FAKE"
immolation funereal
faux "cremation ashes"
topped with goldenseal
thee initial process
to detox and psychologically heal
from Trump Bite US strain A
(or alternate spelling
D. trump pen lumpen throat
or a similar
facsimile concocted "FAKE"
illness thereof - NOT IDEAL
for man, woman, or child,
who quickly become fodder material
(a bio-hazard devastating
entire folks future generations genetics)
symptoms easily mis
taken for nasopharyngeal
infection, where optimal
cure comprises bland oatmeal
with jelly beans, thus I app peal
to provide sanctuary else this real
threat to life and limb
will find me to suffer fools
unless via quaffing hemlock
rigor mortis from grim reaper ICE steal!
Birth of a pearl on a stelliferous night.
Amidst, shimmering iridescence, crepuscular morphing light.
Beautiful fireflies dancing to the tune of “aye!”
Dressed in white, gracefully gleaming bright.
Queen of gems, quietly arrives,
with ultimate sophistication to rule the sky.
Showering amplifying mystical powers.
Silver rainbow of your purifying light,
Steeps into me and make me glow.
Bestowing equanimity and self-control.
Ripples of your vibes, ignite my soul.
You and I entwined with a beautiful tie.
Silent converse and profound insight.
You control the rhythm of my tides.
Healer of my wreak havoc emotions.
Guiding my intuitions and introspections.
O! Ruler of the Oceans!
Accept my boundless devotion.
06/03/2019
Liquid Luna Lace Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
The more I learn, the more
I realize how little I know…
which insightful, gutsy,
entrancing, catchy apothegm
attributed to Socrates by way of Plato
subsequently self ranking myself
amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird
Class Aves (namely
said extinct flightless winged creature
with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!)
once endemic to the island of Mauritius,
east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean,
none would be espied,
no matter how thorough
going across aquatic spreadsheet,
one might row
eventually coordinating
dropping vertical column in toto
arriving back to original
mentally ponderous premise
gamboling feint enroute to see
Old Man Wizard Of Oz
meets Crow Medicine Show
pitching thy quasi recursive query - bro
ching concurrence with another maxim to boot
“ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o'learn'n
doss appeal to this old coot,
yet such pithy accordance came
to this smart ass to late,
a mister wordsmith
with a palm pilot maximum glute
clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot
and holler when new kernel
of knowledge gleaned finds me mute
as if raw bit of savored information akin
to unearthing a rare gem,
or rare species of newt
temporarily allaying fervent quest to root
thru hefty tomes of great literature,
and tracts that suit
many other subjects,
less to be arrogant and toot
my own horn, but more so...
to satisfy an increasingly
insatiable hunger grow
wing nsync with unquenchable
thirsty ambition less for dough
(cuz bing po'
with treasure trove of voluminous
expansive bookish notions doth shaw
surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin pot hustlers
with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw
this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles
to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.
Aye!
The eye of the storm!
So still, breathless
A being of air, silence, space
Surrounded by
tumultuous,
swirling,
chaotic debris
of manufactured lives –
I, the eye
of my storm
dusty, blind and groping