Best Circulating Poems
*LIFE, WHAT A RUSH*
Silence needs to be spoken and put out like a cigarette
The joy - the laughter - the expression found in a silhouette
Inhale the wholesomeness - Exhale the worthiness.
The soul- addicted to all the toxins this world contains
Life is like nicotine circulating throughout your veins
Wrath is a venom that absorbs all the fumes that flow
Trigger the mind and you'll see smoke blow
Hope entwined with clouds of wisdom
Tobacco strangling every inch of the nerve system
Vapors exceed emotions, love and veneration
Smog proceeds in slow motion
Puffing the beauty, by draining the heart and mind
Filtering all the nicotine bad breath left behind
~*~
Categories:
circulating, happiness,
Form:
Couplet
freedom lies with a shattered grace
stumbling toward atomic mythology
where answers have their sins washed
brilliantly bright as suns dyeing skin off-
colors of rumors circulating planets
of the universe pulled headlong into a night
-mare riding tattooed and complaining
about recollections of severed ghosts
(hiding in a ball of fear minds cry)
out of season the earth radiates melting
enraged stupidity the penultimate prize
(summer sunday christmas chimes)
on the edge of sleep falling awake...
ring the festival of blood into session
the birth-fangs grapple with truth no longer will
recessions bring harvests the moon is full
...and the eye is a clogged vessel full of truth
(in relative position the evening twists elaborate
dances like guitars bending the last strings...)
a painting of a brain chips and disintegrates
like words of a schizophrenic seeking the last
wisdom hidden in the bottom of a noise
only tasted...with the throat closing vision narrows...
the fading archetype is the last opiate of inspiration
the last leader is a shill of the lord of matter dissipating
(two raindrops collide) the core of her heart is hot
like earth it is revised toward oblivion...
...follow it it is
...night brighter than calm
...lipids sinking into servitude
...no one will digest this but all
choking dry paranoia on the fringe of town
(a different verb writes in the sky a new eternity)
...we witness the madness of a faceless doctor
scratching scripts illegible to the naked lie...
conscripted as a rat before a snake fighting its shadow
diving into the blind dream we call created angels
to save our skin from weeping generations of blood...
Categories:
circulating, dark, imagination, universe, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
What do you own? anything at all?
In reality nothing is owned neither big nor small
The items you cherish and think are yours
Are really just loaners for as long as life endures
You can take nothing with you of course that's obvious
Possessions have their own life forever circulating to a new audience
Categories:
circulating, fate, funny, irony,
Form:
Couplet
A few have claimed to be the real Billy the Kid, but I doubt very much that to be so.
It seems that similar rumors are now circulating regarding the death of Timothy Treadwell.
Many now claim that he staged his death to raise funds for the cause he believed in.
Why can't these vile people just let him rest in peace. Such vicious rumors are truly a sin.
In Defense of The Grizzly Man
Categories:
circulating, death, death,
Form:
Rhyme
It’s with heavy heart I pen this verse
Watching your father pass by in the hearse
Takes me back to that night in the shed
When you said, this is like fireworks
It was, I dropped the cigarette on the petrol can
Still, as I remarked, not many sheds get a technicolour funeral
He was beyond reason
Not helped when rumours of por*o magazines started circulating
He told me straight, marry my daughter and I’ll kill myself
So we married in haste
But he didn’t keep his promise
What a waste
Still, when that great oak fell on top of his new shed
I had a grin from ear to ear
It was like the chainsaw massacre, but more fun
It was about that time you found god
I found your sister
You forgave me, I was weak
She was pregnant, sixteen weeks
Your dad went mad, he said I was the devil incarnate
Then he dropped dead
They looked at me in horror, in dread
Like it was something I said
Do something they cried
I didn’t know any songs, so I punched him between the eyes
He was definitely dead
I carried the coffin
The least I could do
I shed a tear, maybe two
We decided to scatter his ashes over his pride and joy
But they couldn’t be found
The crematorium were in shock, people were running around
It was like he just disappeared
I was agog
Couldn’t see the mist for the smog
Later that day, just to console
I produced a big rocket
Really his soul
I set it off, and said goodbye
They had a little cry
It climbed high in the sky
They gave a sigh
Should it not explode
Well it is supposed to go with a bang
Just then it made its descent
It was like he was heaven sent
Plummeting to earth
Mad as hell
We all dived for cover
Just as well
She screamed, oh god, oh boy
No need to tell you where he landed
Okay then
His comfort and joy.
Categories:
circulating, break up, father, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Black is my ink
Black my pain
Dark must be thoughts now
Dense this tress must be
Night has anyway put on
A sketch of my darker lines
How shall now I write
A poem of my darkness amidst black night
This ink too has submerged its blood
Like my thin ink
Circulating in my dark veins
Who shall now read this dark volume,
Shall I open my crimson artery
To pen down thy tale
And my of my vale.
Categories:
circulating, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
These are the days, yet so many are gone
Filled with sorrow, like an engraved image
Of a broken winged bird on the lawn
Days consumed by dark, when light was rare
My heart like a boulder weighing me down
Past memories lurking, in darkness, glare
With no resolution, a ghost through the years
Closure remains elusive, like a hawk that stares
Continuously, I try to lift myself from the ground
To release the sorrow, circulating all around
Trying to come to terms with the answers I found
Through the years of time, from all of those days
So I can take the right turns, in this life of a maze
Heidi Sands
5/30/18
Placed 14th in These Are the Days Poetry Contest.
Categories:
circulating, introspection, life, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Rejuvenating world
A sun of orange, yellow, and red.
Blue bird tree, ebony swirled
Artist clearly has creative head
Exhilarating magic
Whimsical ideas profound
Spiral snow fantastic
Appreciation all around
Circulating in my head
Visions of pure whimsy
Delicate colors, clearly fed
Artwork anything but flimsy
Rejuvenating world
Makes my soul want to sing
My dendrites clearly twirled
Magic world in the spring.
Categories:
circulating, art, creation, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Porridge is ploppy' broth is real thin..
However this true 'soup of poetry' fills things up to the brim..
I'll admit its sometimes murky... yet its flavours real strong...'
its long on warm welcomes to whoever jumps in'
It can be hot at the bottom and bubbly on top;
I hope that your senses can take in a lot.
There’s lumps in the mixture that can challenge your swallow;
But if you stick with your portion you'll see how it beats imitators hollow.
I've hit a few snags.. I'll admit there are trials,
Yet the Judges aren't for 'hanging'
(I mean they make decisions sometimes) L O L...
Now I don't put that in verses, well I hadn't till now
It probably won't Rhyme, but it’s to late anyhow,
Now just where was I? Oh yes you must try,
And keep 'a circulating or you might boil the pot dry.'
I've been trapped in the bubbles that might be silly to you
But the old silly-bubbles do get me in a stew,
If you bite down on one, and you hear a slight ahh!
It’s either a soft or a hard one, now you may not be sure,
Like the egg and the chicken... That got squashed by a car;
It can be quite academic, if you make it that far,
and if that does happen,
That you travel that road,
A nice plump 'foul' wouldn’t hurt ,if its in the brew throwed
If the egg isn't seen, I don't give a dang.!
Pop that bird in the pot, that'll be just the thang....
©Joe Maverick 30-11-2013
Categories:
circulating, community,
Form:
Light Verse
Words – The Heart of Imagination – My original poem
The element of words I compose
Forming in my mind with imagination
Becoming one with the emotions of my heart
My language of variant forms
Even with the smallest utterance
I can give you my promise and assurance
And as a two-edge sword I also strongly protest
My words are the heart of my imagination
Thoughts grow in isolation
To remain a secret in my mind
Written in mere symbols of the heart
Intended meanings echo my own sentiments
Words pouring from the heart
Not knowing boundaries to respect
Words upon words
Where one word ends another begins
My words can sense where they should be placed
Coming from the situation of the heart
Journeyed from the mind
Combined into a written language
Circulating through my emotions
Then settling onto paper
Softly like petals falling
In movement with each passage
A continuance of words
Never ending route with no final destination
Distinct in its expression
The heart carries the imagination
Words – Are the Heart of Imagination
Margaret Franceschini November 5, 2014
Categories:
circulating, emotions, heart, how i
Form:
Free verse
I can’t see, but I can feel.
It feels wrong.
The beach is where I go to heal, not open more wounds.
The sand is supposed to feel warm. Comforting.
But every step I take, comes another sharp, jagged piece of plastic,
plunging into my foot.
The smoke circulating around me finds its way into my eyes,
and contaminates my soul with its filth.
I can’t see, but I can feel.
Piles of utter garbage covering the golden sand,
have turned the beach into a wasteland.
Sea animals lay dead on the shore,
strangled in a mixture of plastic soda rings and shopping bags,
reeking of human selfishness.
Of course I’ve finally accepted, my time to help is over.
Remorse. Guilt. Shame.
I want to help, I do.
But the realization my story was ending
came too late.
Now, all I can do is watch.
Watch the forest fires rage on,
ending the lives of innocent trees.
The smoke infiltrating the lungs
of a squirrel, taking a nap in the leaves.
Humans are unaware that this is their story,
unintentionally writing the last chapter of their book.
Earth is our home, yet soon to be abandoned.
The damage irreversible,
but unnoticed by all.
The pen lifts off the paper,
writing the last word of our book,
before it ends.
Regret.
Categories:
circulating, 12th grade, america, animal,
Form:
Free verse
beautiful, cinderella, crazy, growing up, humor, word play,
Gold Plated Ideals©
The ice-white-capped teeth
Smile and beguile the contacted eye
‘Java’ white-bright tee shirts dazzle
Plastic letters ironed on right-side in
Shoulders the body making a statement?
Speaks to me of this century’s impurities
Air fresheners smelling of ‘spice’
Coats the hazy circulating sun
Press-on nails make a statement
All this is in the name of ‘add-ons’!
Linens yellow with age and crinkle fine
Woolens shrink if washed in hot water
Cottons now stretch with added spandex
Silks colourful and light, billow with mirth
Brighten the day to darken the night!
Vitamins and creams make the skin turn young
Micro-wave quickens re-packaged (fake-foods) ‘boxed’
Time ‘replays’ when circling the moon-beamed skies!
Categories:
circulating, beautiful, cinderella, crazy, growing
Form:
Light Verse
For you my dear, of glistening gold and hues of blue,
A mirage created by the constructs of feeble minds.
Our ability to connect is truly frayed, a romance delayed,
Short as the breath of some insectoid, bent on lustful satisfaction.
Are you even real?
If so, very little time is spent on the marvelous experience that is joy.
Pure and free of the adultery which is an office and a cage.
The highways connected like the arteries of some foul beast,
Circulating through the body with the opioids of ignorance and indifference.
How is it that you would like to pronounce my name,
Would you make a gentle song out of it and lull to me sleep?
Or spit at my face with anger and disgust?
I have yet to know the ailments and disease of a life full of unhappiness,
For I have not lived one.
To yearn for your touch in the waking slumber of the schoolyard is to daydream,
But not of my distant hopes and visions of accomplishment.
But of truth, brought forth through the neutrality of time.
It is the waiting game, which I cannot live through,
A wasteland filled with the death of youth and innocence.
Their ghosts, specters that drain from you all the creativity and imagination
Of a child, to alter you into the grotesque twisted form of a worker ant.
Subduing the hearts desires with binds
Made of paychecks and the disillusionment of having importance.
But you are no fake, nor cheap reenactment of some unholy war.
You pulse and vibrate with the magnificence of laughter.
Your tears shred through my dissected emotions.
Freeing me, no, all of us from the confines of having just one feeling.
Broadening our mental scopes,
How can I feel hate and love at once?
We were taught that they were polar opposites, not of the same lineage.
And so I say to you
With the unflinching eyes of man decapitated on the stump of an oak.
That I hate, love, fear, admire, and envy you.
Following your cycle of death and rebirth.
Categories:
circulating, dedication, nature, symbolism,
Form:
Romanticism
Kinetic energy
Circulating in my being
Awaiting the expulsion
Categories:
circulating, flower,
Form:
Senryu
Drifting through the millennium
to a world
of surprises and delight
You think about
what the future beholds
beyond the remedial
circumstances driven by
perseverance, thoughts
scholastically superimposed
upon realities drudgery
when you understand
it's all whimsy
upheld by rules, laws
etched into meanderings
circulating the realm
beyond your wildest imagination
you drift through
turmoils of preponderance
into a life
of no regrets
or misunderstandings
just wishing you
hadn't done
some things.
Categories:
circulating, destiny, humanity, introspection, psychological,
Form:
Free verse