Best Categorize Poems


More Foolish Footles For Super Soupy Soupers -

Andrea D?...No brainer:
Dandy
Andie

Or in her younger, wilder days she may have been:
Randy
Andie?
(Just kidding! Just kid...Ouch!)

I have no choice but to categorize several poems by my mentor as:
Guzzi's
Doozies
(Now don't YOU start on me Deb!)

Ms. Macmillan's writing style is quite modern so here-to-forth she is:
Trendy
Cyndi
(You're not gonna' hit me too are you Cyndi?)

It is rumored that Mr. O is a care-free soul so some might name him:
Groovin'
Ruben

And be sure to keep up with current South African events in the:
Suzette
Gazette

A Christmas poem composed by Carol Brown could be a:
Carol
Carol

Writer's block PD? No sweat!...Just a temporary case of:
Souper
Stupor

Okay, that's enough...

Premium Member Falling

Falling so hard for you
        beat will not wane
dark blue nights dreary cold
      ran down your street
   to see if you were home
      tapped on your pane
   come feel my soft touch
        dance on bare feet!










Written - August 19th, 2015

Nette Onclaud's contest - "Visual of a Verso"



(We were asked to categorize our poems as rhyme, but mine is also a personification... of the rain.)

A Color Is Not My Name

Look at my skin,
And categorize me.
Put me in a column,
The society is sickening.

Not a day would pass without me getting called out.
What do I need to do to live in piece?
My skin doesn’t define me,
When can I speak?

Freedom of speech?
Huh, what a silly thing.
Every time I speak,
You act like I’m a little kid.

The color of my skin,
Is hard to find on screens.
Perhaps white is preferable,
Or I’m just overreacting 

I have a name you know,
Why call me by a color?
I’m not a walking object,
And yes I am bothered.

I never received apologies,
After anyone said anything offensive to me.
I am a human too,
Put yourself in my shoes.

When can we end this?
How many more poems to come?
How many more riots to count down?
How many march to volunteer?
A crazy old man said “the end is near”

No, stop calling me selfish!
I’m trying to defend myself, can’t you accept this?
If this is what the society has become,
No wonder there are suicides around

Gunshots and wounds,
Can never teach the fools.
If a color is what it takes to get hate,
The humans we are now is a disgrace.

The generation would come,
Would be a hopeless one I’m sure.
If the society is like this,
The seed of success is ruined.

My dearest ancestors who died in their grave,
They are thought being brown was a mistake.
It is still the same until this day.
I guess society has never changed.

A color is not my name.
A color should be praised.
A child should be taught,
Being themselves is not a fault

A color doesn’t define anyone,
A color doesn’t speak for anyone,
Actions are what separate us,
A color plays an innocent part

A color is not my name
© Elya Ntsh  Create an image from this poem.


Why Vote Mate

Why vote for governments
That uses you
That abuses you
Confuses you and refuses you

Why vote for governments
That doesn’t respect or defend your rights
And fight with all their might’s
Why vote for governments that are not contrite
And feel their evil doings are alright

Why vote for governments
That steals the meals off poor people’s plate
Yes I know you can relate
You lobbyist and you rich conglomerates

You leaders brought this world to this state
You closed equal opportunity gates
You email-gate, water-gate, racial profile, hate!
You collaborate to devastate by inaugurate debates
And brain washing mandates

You empty and launder it
The treasury’s financial reserves hey wait!
You vaingloriously defend your scandals eh mate
Yeh! You really forced me to explashiate

Against fractured cannibalistic nature politics
Syndromes of “eat ah food” government’s historics
Past and present, you categorize and polarize
Our society for your sooooole benefits

Eh why vote mate?

©Copyright August 27, 2014 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved

Crystal Cup of Flair

Crystal Cup
 of Flair


The 
world judges another
 by what they own
Fancy jewels, clothing,
 cars and spacious homes.

They
 choose leaders born
 of arrogance and strife
Following them into
 wars and destructive lives

Many
 categorize a person's
 life through opinions
Created through jealousy
 they follow them like minions

Judge
 not or you will be
 judged by your own decree
Using another as a stepping
 stone renders your life in debris

Richness
 of a person is revealed
 by the quality of their heart
The flow of loving kindness and
 honesty in the mercy they depart

Humility
 and a gentle spirit
 that nurtures another's soul
One who gives willingly 
unconditional love that freely 
flows

This
 person is rich beyond
 all earthly realms
Bearing such a pure love 
against evil, it overwhelms

I
 would rather be
 seen as Tupper ware
Then tagged a crystal
 cup of flair

Carole Cookie Arnold
2010

Man Apart

I'm a man apart, repelled by the norm
Got my own path I chose to walk in
My eyes see things on a different wavelength,
my ears are attuned to another frequency

Never thought twice about the separation,
or the price of breaking free from the swarm
Always was comfortable in my own skin,
giving my all requires more than a tenth

Had a destiny to only live in ubiquity,
was told that seeking wisdom was the correlation
I've traveled through life's cosmic storm,
battened the hatches to my soul within

I'm on a mission, don't need to be convinced
Always knew deep down this was how it had to be
Running with the crowd, didn't have that inclination
I'm a man apart, never given to conform


I feel this poem has no existing form. If I am wrong, tell me what form it is. I wish to categorize it as "Step Rhyme" or "Rotating Rhyme." Each verse from the second line of the second stanza steps down. First line from the first stanza rhymes w/the second line of the second stanza. Second line of the first stanza rhymes w/the third line of the second stanza. Etc, etc. The last line of the final stanza rhymes w/the first line of the first stanza. Romantic Warrior


Everything Is a Cult

Schools are cults of intelligence

Sports are cults of athleticism

Families are a cult of similar genetics

Clubs are cults of interests

Bands are cults of music

Businesses are cults of greed

Governments are cults of power

Gangs are cults of inferiority

Art is a cult of creativity

Industry is a cult of logic

Friendships are cults of acceptance

Societies are cults of submission and assimilation

Religions are cults of beliefs

The outdoors is a cult of ecosystems

Living things are a cult of the earth

Discrimination is a cult of ignorance

Philosophy is a cult of deep thinkers

Meekness is a cult of peace

Violence is a cult of war

Hospitals are a cult of the ill

Suburbia is a cult of the middle class

Poetrysoup is a cult of poets

Everything in life is a cult, because people of similar interests or other various similarities find each other and worship what they have in common. People sub-categorize themselves. That is what the cult of mankind is all about.
© Dylan Foss  Create an image from this poem.

A Sea of Boyhood Dreams

An expansive view of tumbling sand and lasting memories
make seagulls swoop in broad paintbrush strokes
over brothers bonded by baseball and a broken home.

Within a sandcastle, two boys taste salt on their tongues,
a savory blend of pinky promises, dolphin sightings
and an acute ache for adventure.  

Innocence crashes between truths untold and manhood. Whether a plethora 
of clouds settle in their sight or brown eyes squint in midday sunlight,
their bare feet roam through foamy waters.

Down the beach, over conch shells and starfish, freedom thrills. 
With curiosity and cartwheels, spry minds and lanky limbs, 
youth salvages its adventurous spirit. 

Four hands assemble a paper sailboat, not seaworthy, of course,
but fine for fistfuls of fantasy with a deck wide enough to hold their dreams.

Sandcastles and sailboats, cartwheels crashing in waves, daydreams falling 
asleep under charmed stars, wide eyes seeking sand crabs - 
these moments salvage each boy’s adventurous spirit in swept 
paintbrush strokes and shadows of silver-lined clouds in the sand.     

We categorize innocence, oceans, promises, adventure, dreams of boys 
and paper sailboats. We try to soak up an expansive sea. 
I hung a painting on my wall and tried to unalphabetize it all. 
Life is messy and beautiful. Without the taste of salt on my tongue, 
I could only live vicariously through the art.


Rhonda J Saunders, written 11/15/15
for Eve's Oil Painting's 1-2-3 Contest
Inspired by painting #1

Stardust

The will shall supplement my fitness,

categorize my songs,

and ejaculate a witness!

He shall shuttle our smiles through the day,

complicate our wrongs,

and dish out the bongs,

sing along with songs,

in rooms of grape with walls of shakes,

tomb smoke and tokens-

taken in by notes,

domes inside zones,

landscaping Vogue-

no real reason to pose unless you are gold.

Premium Member Words and Phrases

What do you think of when I say the word “love”
Flowers, blue skies and sunshine
And so when you think of total “commitment”
It's a lifetime of souls intertwined

When you hear the phrase, “cool as a cucumber”
Does a vegetable come to mind
Or a frosty mint julep on a hot summer day
When you leave all your troubles behind

What d'ya think of when hearing the word “gorgeous”
Long legs, nice boobs and derieres
Some slender bodies with flowing blonde hair
The slenderer, the more merrier

How about, “he bit off more than he can chew”
Certainly has sexual overtones
Okay this is bringing out the bad in this fellow
Thinking I may have to postpone

What do you think of when I say the word “charlize”
A most beautiful South African lass
She's got everything a young man could ever ask for
Old guys are even cooking with gas

When you hear the phrase, “not playing with a full deck”
“looney toons” sure comes to mind
Don't like to categorize but with some guys it's obvious
They're beyond being helped I find


© Jack Ellison 2015

An Ode To the Fullness of My Belly

sweet decadent belly
how ever will you forgive me
i didn’t know
couldn’t know 
how to love you

i didn’t see that you were more than a belly
you were an entire person
an easy breezy lover girl committed to the pursuit of all things joyful

i used to joke that you were bottomless
an “animal” of your own 
what a gift that was

you let me live in faraway lands
and graciously indulge in local delicacies 
what an honor it was to be held tall by you
to bask in your beauty

you captured hearts of all kinds
everyone wanted part of the whole hearted embrace of life you offered
even if just for one night

i must now admit
with a heavy heart
it took sharp hip bones jutting out to lengths they never should be seen
for me to set the record straight 

i needed seasons of too much nausea to stand
let alone eat
for me to learn to beg for your forgiveness

my stomach now boasts the flatness I’d always been urged to dream of
and I spend my days split between my bed and survival 

friends exclaim 
“wow you look so skinny!”
men praise the unnatural concaveness of you
saying things like
“maybe you weren’t played such a bad hand after all”
as if whether my body has value should be up for debate
like a certain quantity of fat cells reflects a quality of life

and I can’t blame them for not seeing
because neither did I
they don’t see the poison we’ve been spoon-fed
to categorize a healthy body as
“too much”
and a starving one as the ultimate prize

they do not see that this body takes dozens of pills a day to sit upright
in it live tsunamis of fear, pain, isolation
while my old self was free
and buoyant 

while I cant change the view from where they stand
(and I stood)
i can remember your brilliance
and vow 
if we're ever lucky enough to be reunited
i will honor you for what you truly are:
a home

An Angel of Christmas Past

The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget
It was the day we celebrated yes I do remember
The family came together for you with no regret

Recalling a child, spying around, found a train set
I would start to feel the excitement in November
The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget

Someone hurries to buy a last gift in a Corvette
Another sad to celebrate, a gift they can’t render
The family came together for you with no regret

The rest of the holiday, I’ll change my mindset
Going to show some real spirit, not be a pretender
The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget

If there is anyone, it’s to you that I am in debt
Lil sweet lady, no you were powerful yet slender
The family came together for you with no regret

So far from that magical time I’m a dark silhouette 
But my cold hard heart starts to melt in December
The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget
You taught me about Holiday spirit, with no regret

 
Written by me Wayland Bunch II on 12/10/2013 for Happy Holidays contest in
memory of my grandmother. I changed the last line, felt forced to change it, but will
still categorize this poem as a Villanelle. I could have easily repeated the closing line
again, or could have called it free verse, but neither would have done justice to 
the message or the form, because I used the power of the repetition, provided by the
form, throughout.

Don'T Judge a Book By It's Cover

When you look at my skin tone
Don't categorize me
When you see what i wear
Don't dare label me
You don't know me
You just see my outside
I may be the sweetest person alive
Your assumptions are therefore unjustified
I may be the best friend you'll ever have
I may be that dream love if you chance
Instead of judging me by my looks
Misjudging me from first glance
Don't judge me by what you read
Or by what you see on television
Take time to get to know me
And form your own first hand decision

Color Blind

COLOR BLIND




I thought it was over, though I could never understand




Why we can't walk down the street, holding different hands




'Can't walk side by side, have to have a divide



Sepreate fountains, Sepreate seats, treated as a disease 



This is not what God see in me



I'm a black beauty, yet treated as a black beast


My Caucasian friends has departed from me


Hello? the 1st amendment is not reachable


Trying to teach me things that not even teachable

 yet, the brains of our people are so knowledgeable

White and black really nothing different but the color


yet, many petty on me as if I could change my color



You stalk me as if I could change the weather


but you are more ignorant than I thuoht if you judge by color



Some could never fill my shoes I been through every scene

Time to wake up colors are not what they seem


What if colors were never discover 




We do the same things but why are we on different teams 




I wish black and whites could come together like martin seen in his dream




You hear me! but Seriously, you don't really know what i mean




You don't know the feeling,




I was scarred like a slave and still in the process of heeling




I still carry the whips on my back from being beat and viciously degraded 




but you wanna know what is crazy? I was born after slavery




Color blind...... in a world full of colors




Why do different races try to hurt one another




We both were birth by mothers, walk the same earth, eat alike



Yet why do I feel different




if you haven't notice, whats been going on, you haven't been paying attention




it's not what you did to me or what I've I done to you




We are differnet indivaluls you cant categorize a color




Rasicm will end in the end of ime




but as of now nothing is wrong with the world their just COLOR BLIND

A Moth Is Also a Butterfly

Though I am dark, the light ignites my curiosity, see me as an abstract manipulation and acknowledge me but please don’t shun me.  Just like the butterfly we blossomed from a cocoon not a day too soon. Although I am not seen as having splendor and grace but in the dark I can even see beauty upon your face.  
Yet our existence you compartmentalize, so therefore I have to put up a disguise. Yet still, you want me to believe that you don’t think that I'm wise. So now you find it fit to categorize instead of synchronize. Haven't you heard, that the sum of all parts are better than the whole?
Pain is a catalyst for Change and yet it's the only thing that's constant.
So like the butterfly I emerge from the ground, exploring new beginnings to the moon out of my cocoon not a day too soon.
Your perception of me will not hold me captive, because My creator is our orchestra-tor, and has made me free. Just like the butterfly I was given the present and it is wrapped with joy.
Too bad you can’t see that the basis of our existence is to be free.
So like the butterfly, I too ascend on a mission and emerge from the ground to explore new beginnings to the moon out of my cocoon not a day too soon. 
I am comfortable with my dark wings because you see, a Moth is also a butterfly
We go through our stage of Metamorphosis and then through time we fly

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