Best Blurbs Poems


Premium Member The Art of Morning

Upon rising, awakened by 
ripening scent teasing my nose, 
trilling my lips and tongue, – my taste buds opening
to bird-like songs as dawn's light breathes new life
and hope into my journey, so begins
a fresh flutter of time, an extending 
run of exclamatory chirps and wing-full
stretching – 

Muse beckons, yielding to artist'
pen and eye – we are co-authors, exchanging
thoughtful leafs and sun-dipped pages; mingling natures, 
swapping poetic voice, reversing positions of artist vs model – 
conjuring word-images and interactive, painted-canvases – confounding our seasons of 
blossoming and harvest, embracing God's budding voice and fruitful manifestations, 
His nectar-ed, figurative language, blending human with Divine senses....

displaying contrasts that stimulate exploratory forming
and transitory shading – clearing and clouding
affects both inside and on my outside, as the clutter of 
yesterday, and promise of a spring-like showers soak
crusty sediments with saturating, fertile possibilities; 
all taking bows – the theater that of spiritual mastery – 
                            
                              Mystery is
my source, my echo, my chambered growth.

My resources, exploitable enclaves of poetic walls, primed,
awaiting both solid and abstract vibrations, energizing 
experimental blurbs, those planned and random into searchable
articulations, grasping, too often vainly, for fantastical alliteration 
of sterile, common-place views – 

I am deepened and ready to let air

we are each our best audience
my left-hand meeting your right
for a brisk clap of inspiration followed
by riotous applause....
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: blurbs, art, creation, inspirational, poetry,
Form: Free verse

Comment On This

I write unto the blank papers stare

A ball point pen in hand without a flare

The words enscribed should be a future quote

As I am the best or at least so you denote



I listen to your comments out loud

And damn you make me feel so proud

I know that I am one of the best

For you tell me so at least I can rest



I take your words in heart with pride

As I feel you only read what "I" enscribe

But as I read words from others souls

I see the same reply that you told



I read the same things told to me

You basterds are just lying to please

You said I have so much to say

I took it to heart as if it where a prayer



I scroll upon others works of "art"

You all say the same crap never heard a negative part

So tell me I suck so I can have pride

To be different than all these brown knosing flys



"You have so much talent why dont you go pro"

Tell that sh1t to the fool on the rope

"As usual you stun me with your words of hope"

I get tired of reading the same for all poets



Giving each other hand jobs for praise

If you didnt hate me now, I am sure your on your way

Do I give a sh1t? Hell no I just laugh until it hurts

At your pointless rantings of whos best on the blurbs



I speak my mind and tell the truth

Why dont you praise yourself and save time of the youth

As they have more talent than you

For they speak the "truth" and say "you suck" when its due
© Penn Kname  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: blurbs, parody, people, words, me,
Form:

Premium Member Murky Thick Haze

bluesy blurbs 
    of
brumal 
    blackness
      its 
  crawling 
clasps
   of 
silvery 
  gnawing
    below 
      shriveled 
            shades
       of 
       oxidized
    & 
      deep 
         haze
 immure
&
  wait

   awakening
     cold winter
         warm soul
&
         henceforth
     will hear
   pearly 
chants
    from  
      Birdie
        Green

with neon 
  embers 
     swirling
        fractals 
of
  gemmed 
      hues
 in 
 spirit
   for 
     soft 
        knock 
of 
   spring
           on 
    frozen 
shell
of 
withered 
     dreams

Written: January 15, 2023

3rd place contest winner

NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.

Brian Strand Contest No 1170 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: blurbs, allusion, analogy, blue,
Form: Other

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


You Are a Poet

Smash it so you drag them in,
let them know where you have been.
Show them all a sparkled spin,
seed and feed the poets.

Love them with some luscious words,
don't forget some vibrant verbs.
A sonnet, ode or countless blurbs;
breed and lead the poets.

For here, the artists' cut-throat calls,
leaves you starving more and more.
Eat their words but kick them yours,
Know-You Are A Poet!
Categories: blurbs, inspirational, poetry, power, words,
Form: Rhyme

Moon Is My Muse

(Moon is My Muse)
Moon Musing

You lie beyond an obscure veil
Above the foggy city lights
Illuminating the night so pale
Giving darkness lights respite 

Elliptical loops around earth’s face
Wearing wane or increase smiles
Still quickening lover’s heart pace
Ever working your earthly wiles

Finding muses in your boldness
Poets stroke their papered words
Romance beckons in your fullness
Love lyrics written or poetic blurbs

Earthly harvesters glean in the night
Twice find beauty in blue moon bright
 

Written for: “Moon is My Muse” on 2/27/13
I used the definition for Sonnet found in Poetry Soup Forms
Categories: blurbs, moon, on writing and
Form: Sonnet

Love In Your Heart

Love in your heart by Gideon Cecil 

Keep love in your heart
Hate rips your soul apart.
Life without love is
like a smiling flower
at dawn but dies at noon.
Let love grow in your
soul like a tree
without love we die
in sins of misery.
We greet people and part
so soon
Our empty vain words
and promises kill them
time and time again
Like a lighting struck into
the secret veins of their hearts
our words are like wells without
water.
It’s a fictive truth we honour
the dead more than the living
most dead folks are more famous
at death than when they are alive;
Why buy a suit for your dad or mom
when they are dead?
Why buy them a casket when they die?
While they live and die in a shack and
you live in your big mansions?
Why not love them when they are alive
and give them the best.
I have seen hatred hidden
In our elegant attires,
I have seen crooked smiles
veiled in facial blurbs
I have seen vanities of lies
veiled in truths that’s deceit.
Why chat with your FB friends when
they are gone ?Or only if you need their
help you chat?
Friendship is a divine eternal bond that will never
be broken
Let love and forgiveness grow rapidly
like the sea waves in our hearts;
then our souls shall rejoice
into the Kingdom of God from eternity to eternity.
Categories: blurbs, cute love,
Form: Lyric


Fear Not Dear Dyslexia I Got Your Back

LIKE YOUR LORD, DYSLEXIA IS A FRAUD

I know her secret and no amount of money can mine lips be sealed
I am here for her secret for to be finally revealed
I know it all and I didn’t even have to see it being done
While her and a prolific poetic profile pretend to be one

Yes, oh she’s dainty sometimes, rude on other occasions 
but hers is a vile and victimizing occupation
She sets to verse the property of others that amaze
And that’s why she only writes on certain days?

If she wants to write a self-portrait she urges descriptions like “mine be not a 
prominent nose”
Something she found in a maudlin magazine where an advertisement usually goes
I’m just waiting until a few more people espy her lie
Because the chick can’t write poetry or bake a cherry f-----g pie

So you all are amazed at the thoughts that flow from her mind surreal
But you see, I, being a wizened one, know that which is real
And when her deeds are being done I am ever there
I, a squire, be a liars one and only fear

The lady takes pen to patient paper and scribes that which is untrue
Well one day this plagiarist will get her due
Her poetry is all blurbs purloined off museum walls and if she denies it what do you 
expect her do?
And my ego commands I lie and defame her because she’s a much better poet than 
me and you!
        © 2011.…Phreepoetry ~free cee!~
(I told you, I got your back Dyslexia!)
Categories: blurbs, angstwrite, poetry, write,
Form: Quintain (English)

A Poet's Garage Sale

There’s quite a sale in my garage,
A poet’s plethoran montage
Of metaphors and similes
And verses guaranteed to please.

A nest of nouns, a vat of verbs;
Some quotes quite perfect for your blurbs.
A carton filled with stale clichés,
Which budding writers can rephrase.

I’ve baskets filled with parts of speech
Left from the days I used to teach.
So many sentences to choose,
Ambitious wordsmiths cannot lose.

So come on down – check out my stuff;
Describing it’s not good enough.
A poet’s sale is most inviting – 
It may spark a love of writing!

			Ilene Bauer
			September 6, 2012

(this was accidentally deleted from my poems list, so i wanted to reenter it)
Categories: blurbs, poetry,
Form: Couplet

Money, Value, and a Response

“Four dollars a shot,” 
marched from the bartender’s mouth - 
each syllable carried the clanks
of Herbie’s Rhodes – jutting like 
glacier crags in swells of desert-base. 
They carried the smoke curling like 
a silver chain draped around a neck,
and the bulges of slurred blurbs.

The words seeped from the regular collection of
the blood-sweet odor of smoke –
not the bartender.

I understood the bar, but I didn’t know what he meant.

The four dollars rustled out of my wallet 
and crinkled on the table like 
brittle leaves popping back into form.

The sap-colored whiskey
plunked on the bar,
and hummed a sharp 
alcoholic song.

Masked, the bartender noticed 
an obtuse heap of slurs that
rumpled his skin into a smile.
His shoulders flipped, 
and he was swept into 
the patterned shrub of sensation.

He was now an indeterminable piece in a clouded order.

I swilled the amber, 
and stumbled through links of smoke
until I spilled out 
into the violent protrusions of the quiet evening –
like sails glaring on a sun-crushed sea.

I still can’t figure out what that four dollars was worth,
or what the bartender said to me.
Categories: blurbs, confusion, introspection, philosophy,
Form: Free verse

The Neat Box

I've seen a terrible crime, a murder in fact

Ruthless, ugly, menacing; an unpleasant struggle,

She was an unsuspecting victim, strangled, from behind.

It didn't take too long, and then she was gone.

I have been a witness to many robberies.

Some were fascinating to watch, others quite boring.

Still, I like it when they get away.


Then there are blurbs for necessaries and desires.

These blurbs are much louder, as I am mesmerized.

Crap, now I want a burger and a beer.

With a thin piece of electronics,

I eagerly surf the channels, I can see many wonders,

While sitting in my chair,

I am there, without going anywhere.
Categories: blurbs, eulogy, fantasy, home, murder,
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Alliteration

Alliteration
By Franklin Price
6/26/2105

Alliteration  alludes alliance 
Defeats deductive daunts defiance
Connects constructive conjugation
Needs a niche nice new libation
 
Poets possibly pen prime prose
Never neglect nor need to know
Poor people perfectly pronouncing please
Nine nimble ninnies on knobby knees

Fabulous fiction fantastic facts
Anchors altering adjusting acts
Elusive elves eliciting verbs
Babbling bumblers bubbling blurbs

Nonsensical nuance nearly nice
Needs neural knowledge naughty spice  
These thoughts try timely to titillate
Greatly gregarious not just gigantically great
Categories: blurbs, fun,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Crazy Profound 14

Knit kindred know
Bestow blind blow
Glimpse gracious glow


Do deft dance dear
Steer sightly seer
Bloom bears buzz beer


Hot hype hurl here
Glance groovy gear
Free fuzzy fear


Cuppa coffee
Taste tranquil tea
Just joy juicy


Books bearing boast
Reaper's realms roast
Charm crystal coast


Wealthy words wind
Give gripe good grind
Free feelings find


Be brilliant bore
Carve clever core
Peel plunders pore


Store spiral spore
Blind blond blurbs bore
Grip glitching gore


Line lives long line
Feel foam flood fine
Dig deeper dine


Halt hunting haste
Wait weaves weird waste
Plot plunders paste


Crazy creep clowns
Fresh frozen frowns
Traverse toon town


Travel takes time
Real rivers rhyme
Chase cunning chimes


Leon Enriquez
24 Apr 2014
Singapore
Categories: blurbs, deep,
Form: Alliteration

Premium Member Like Silent Laughter

Like Silent Laughter
David J Walker

I can still feel the cold water
Cool my tanned skin usually drenched 
in the sweat of a hoe handle and the
hot summer sun

The above ground steel tank filled from
The creaking efforts of a windmill meant to
Quench the thirst of thirsty cattle 
The salt lick that became our diving board

A rare moment of splashing laughter
Rarer than rare the occasion of young cousins 
allowed to play for an afternoon 
as other children play in city park pools

Very aware that
	We were the farm kids 
And would curse in bilingual blurbs the
Profane adjectives accenting hard work

I don’t remember who was 
winding and  aiming
The 8mm movie camera 
Capturing the moment through a lens 
that would
Otherwise have been lost forever 

Documenting the silent laughter of
Farm kids having fun the hard way
In the New Mexico Summer sun
Categories: blurbs, youth,
Form: Rhyme

Good Samaritan Wannabe Plea One

as the late afternoon twilight years
of this primate become sans my exist
hence, more visible on the horizon
an increasing awareness prevails asper
how this middle aged baby boomer

(whose incessant, inconsolable, and
incurable wailing still reverberates til
this day - LIX exiting the birth canal
since January thirteenth ninety fifty
and nine) promulgates nascent longing

jumpstarting helping formulate doing
beneficial actions. only of late didst
an upswell to demonstrate appreciation
(towards acquaintances, countrymen/
women, family of origin, friends,

neigh boars, relatives, Romans, et cetera)
becomes a manifest destiny. awareness
crystallized within the recent past of
my life and hard (days night) times 
this yearningto "pay forward" dirty deeds 
done dirt cheap along the highway to hell

(mainly within a voluntary capacity)
to avail energy of waning body, mind,
spirit triage. until such a plan (as
per say traveling abroad - either a
lone or with an adventurous minded Ma
demoiselle) coalesces into fruition,

a daily strategy to impact my imme
diate environment in a positive manner
took figurative shape. his doable, feasible,
justifiable, et cetera longing (to contribute
sweat equity such as organic gardening/

farming, teaching English as a first, second
third...language, or writing opinion
editorials blurbs for a news letter,
which loving labors of body, mind
and spirit would be accepted would serve
Categories: blurbs, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form: Light Verse

Release My Mind From Churlish Chains

Sometimes in churlish chains
Fed up with ribald refrains
On my mind inflicting pains and strains

In the morning, afternoon and night
When from life I gain no delight
Sinking into sorrows on the flight

From illusion
Conflated with delusion
Carved from collusion

Between cynicism
Pessimism and criticism
Wrapped in a veil of wanton witticism

That to my ears spells disaster
I detect in the voice of a broadcaster
Enjoining my mouth to shut up faster

Lest lunatics in straitjackets
Should unleash explosive packets
To pulverize my brain brackets

To terminate challenges I mount
Day and night whose barbs and blurbs amount
To desecration in mistaken impressions tantamount

To insults in the eyes of Cyclops
Whose evil eye develops
An uncanny loathing for emissary envelopes

Whose missives send shiver
Down spines shorn of silver
When Cyclops quiver

In their boots
At the thought of brutes
Taking away ill gotten fruits

Cyclops munch
At brunch
Foregoing at lunch any hunch

That predicts winds of change
Within my mind no longer strange
To vicissitudes Cyclops arrange

To counter banter
In the encounter
Arranged in the canter

To ferry freedom
Beyond confines the fiefdom
I no longer consider part of the inherited wisdom

In which I found comfort
From every report emanating from the fort
I vowed with all my might to support

If I should remain sane
To reject any arcane
Attitude bent on releasing propane

To burn my spirit
In an effort to treat
Ores of sanity with gangrenous grit

Hoping to achieve progress
While promoting disgrace
In the last lap of a stress race.
Categories: blurbs, poems,
Form: Free verse
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