Best Comas Poems
Rote an esay
Cheked IT twise
Lot's a' mistakes
Graide not so nice...
I yused comas
Perfetley placed paws
"2 much incoheeseivenes"
I cant, brake up a, claws
Yused fulstops.
not tolong a .sentense
But teecher. was furryous
Marked down with a venjance
Did exclamashons!
Sumtimes .3 @ once!!!!
& YUSED CAPS 2 SHOUT!!
Butt "you ownly need one,!!"
Coalon,
Wen I need 2 maik: lists
Rote my: Faverit, tv shos
But: teecher were: p*ssed
Semicoalons;
Wen, I need 2 look: smart!!
nut shure wat. they do; But
the esay ritings really hard!!!
[93 werds]
Categories:
comas, confusion, funny, language, satire,
Form:
Light Verse
How do I pen a cliche’
so it isn’t the cliche’,
but the reality.
My skin has soft little wrinkles
that look like ripples on water.
Yesterday it didn’t.
When did I start needing naps,
that have now become mini comas.
Yesterday I was working until I got my second wind.
The mirror seems to feel the need to taunt me
with an image of someone I do not know.
Yesterday the image was 18.
When I forget and sit too long,
it takes the length of the room to work out the stiffness and pain.
Yesterday, I didn’t have time to sit.
I won’t think about this today
I’ll do it tomorrow
But, tomorrow was yesterday, and the year is gone.
I must have blinked while laughing in the face of spring,
a brief summer warmth on my eye lids as they go down,
and as they started up again, fall is turning to winter.
Categories:
comas, life, philosophy, seasons, image,
Form:
Bio
Stretched t-shirt, chains, a mournful tune,
wide smiling guy, a book unsewn,
light hands, light hand, a happy ending,
few hearty words, heaven's wide champaign,
black and white cat and vivid dreams
in which I'm scared and guy's obscene,
this spring and what's to spring of it,
vanilla shake, banana split
and all my love - somehow diffused:
you every now and then get used
to any kind of any lie...
In sober fact I would have died
for happy endings on and on.
And if you doubt, then - yes, that corn.
13.03. 2013
Categories:
comas, emotions,
Form:
Every day the news by best jailor
Since my hours run fast through the sweat
To put comas in the bills every month
And fill the never full belly engine
In the midst of the crowd they said
That’s why I wonna see and hear it myself
So from my coach I will listen Mr. President
You said you are the head we form the rest
Guess at the nails you will easily locate me
You start the heading we complete the essay
You alone with your men its cumbersome
You need the millions to move the rail
For our coin to strengthen against the dollar
So from my coach I will listen Mr. President
It’s a bit hot and greasy down here
Our sweat mixed creates killing bugs
Take your coach and listen Mr. President
A list from my local club slowly unveiled
Maybe you can roar from the high seat
And scare the bugs itching our skin
So from your coach listen Mr. President
Our mothers still die on the hallways
Nurses say you stingy for their quality
That private clinic they all labour there
And in your general place, their pity serves
Our babies are examples for best idiots
For classes too congested for one teacher
From your coach listen Mr. President
Other brothers now with sluggish talk and walk
Glue, liquor and puffs been their daily sacrament
No law feared since your men got deep pockets
Uncles killing our fathers for an acre even less
Hearken rural urbanization, I have a degree
For a ranch in favour to dad I will buy
From your coach listen Mr. President
My list is endless and your ears go tire
So the rest I will copy to your deputy
When alone you two wine and dine
Let it top your priority menu
That zealous sleepless citizens you lead
For their country’s love they support you
For a word you say, they work it farther
Off the coaches, lets act Mr. President
Categories:
comas, devotion, leadership, power,
Form:
ABC
Only the disturbing wings of the fly
Hissing at the corners of the gravy room
Who died still a puzzle
Straight heads would pass for a lecture room
Black robed in a modern market square
High benched listen ready to give dictation
Only the spirits could leak their minds
Could imagine waterfalls in their tummies
Shaking hands could pass close for defection
Big shame to full bellies of the evil carrot
Cruel a name added to the devil
But few volunteers add it to their collar
Rumour say banks been working overtime
To quench the thirst of the evil bellies
Well rehearsed would pass for a great poet
Comas, fullstops, gestures perfectly blend
To pin down another Jesus brother
She sang same script different casts
Pontius Pilates palace just an old reference
Barnabas generation risky like waking on a swamp
My humble innocent leaders headed for crucifixion
Bury the truth book but not its truth
Crush the nut but don’t waste the oil
Their skeletons fetch revenue in the museums now
Wisely they grayed, their words scribbled down
Clearly taught what goes round comes round
That every dark cloud has a silver lining
The accusers dumb now, hear their kitchen been so noisy
Snake gives birth to snake not a lizard neither a millipede
Their kids well coached, heirs of their fathers’ degree
Street preachers of wrath, roving sneaky eyes
Ears competing with those of elephants
For a noun to sneak wrongly off ma leaders’ speech
Weary they don’t get, wonder what powers they worship
Pure gold, innocent and brave, God chose my leaders
Categories:
comas, betrayal, leadership, power,
Form:
ABC
Sleep was always Snoozer's best friend
Come morning, he had the shades down,
to keep the sunlight from pouring in
Waking up and getting out of bed
was always a chore to him
Then having to go to work,
man, the drudgery never seemed to end
Taking a nap was his buddy,
resting his eyes was his cousin
He didn't pop prescription pills,
he wasn't a stoner,
he wasn't a boozer
Though he was fond of the nickname Snoozer,
he didn't like being labeled Snoozer the Loser
The way he saw it, sleepwalking
kept him from doing
a whole lot of unnecessary talking
It was win --- win, my friend
Now he never voiced this publicly,
but he thought comas were actually kinda cool
Plenty of uninterrupted sleep;
what's not to like about that,
except maybe being a vegetable tool
So if you happen to visit a large warehouse
in some sleepy backwater town,
and notice a corner office with the shades down
You can rest assured that
Rip VanWinkle's distant relative, Snoozer,
is product testing a mattress on company ground
Categories:
comas, hilarious, humor, humorous, satire,
Form:
Light Verse
All around the trees are swaying and shaking,
But I can’t feel the cold I know I should.
The wind is howling and screaming,
But I cannot hear it at all.
The snow is falling in a fast and furious blizzard.
A sheet of white masks the mountains I know are there.
The smell of snow; crisp, clean and fresh,
I cannot smell it ... and I miss it.
I can sense your presence and want to seek you out.
You reach me and I freeze,
Panic floods through me.
If I cannot feel everything I should,
Can I feel you?
Will I ever feel your warmth?
Will I ever hear you golden voice again?
Will I ever feel another of your tender kisses?
Will I ever see your perfect features again?
I can feel a warm hand on my shoulder,
I turn in shock to see you standing tall and proud in front of me.
I hadn’t noticed the tears I was crying until I could taste them in my mouth,
I can see your face and features, as perfect as I remember them.
You embrace me in the most adoring hug holding me close,
I instantly feel your warmth spread through me like a blaze.
I can hear your gentile, caring whispers in my ear,
I can smell your familiar sweet scent.
You bring my scenes alive in my time of numbness,
You could bring me out of the deepest and darkest of comas,
You could stop me from falling into despair.
I need you my love,
Without you I am still and silent,
Without you I am numb,
Without you I am nothing.
Categories:
comas, loveme, me,
Form:
3:33 am and my eyes feel the same open as they do closed
(I wonder if this is how she felt?)
Front teeth smother
Bottom lip,
(Except when I cough)
Stress stains my cognition.
Red drips and green strokes.
Acid spots
burning through
Solar galaxies
The darkness is embracing.
Demons dance to my rapid heart beat.
Tantalising choreography
Sinister laughs,
Harmonious.
Beautiful smiles
Glow.
Please go.
Temptation teases.
What a shiny dress.
Dirty hands
I feel
...but I don't see...
Coarse,
Chilly,
Clammy.
I caress
Ever
So
Gently...
What's the use in blinking when you see the same thing?
Blurry nothingness.
Abstractions paint the scene.
Artistic evil mind.
Awake yet always dreams.
Whispers in my ear...
I feel pain from visions of the future
They echo what will never be
The should have been realities
...I plug my ears and still listen...
Sorrow oppresses
Eyes lids
-Can't tell if they're open or not
Squint to see in the dark
Nearsighted to fiction
Farsighted to the truth
Direction?
No
-correction
*Perplexing
Floating in this time space continuum
There's a need for
Ethereal aromas.
Self induced comas.
...Atleast, for a moment...
Because ignited embers
sear into my brain,
"What ifs",
As the past and the present
Battle in front of me
Not realizing,
The future,
Flying away,
Further...
Further...
Flashes of fluorescent light
Blinding me
Eyes wide open
(Atleast I think)
The room now full of
Thorns,
Horns,
With mirrors,
Front
To
Back
-I wonder if this is what she saw before she died...
...Concious fades to black...
-Stephen Kofi Opare Obeng
Categories:
comas, fantasy
Form:
You go on ahead
To your unmade bed.
Take a saintly nap;
Comfortably wrap
Yourself in blankets—
It is night, isn't it?
The day has ended,
Amends amended,
Because apologies
Are ideologies:—
Merely strange dogmas
Of those in comas—
They demand no following.
They are grossly wallowing
In mud and waste.
Go and make haste
And amend the amends—:—
I deserve no friends:—
You retract companionship
For complete dictatorship.
'Tis simply an amendment
On amends. You meant
For betterment—
Thus detachment
From me
And replacement
Of me
With government.
Categories:
comas, absence, anger, betrayal, corruption,
Form:
Rhyme
If i am in a position to hold the candle,
Then light the candle,
If the edge of chair no more romantic then,
A thriller then explain the foot work,
Time elapse then let be known I am have good time,
If the morning breaks and howl of the moon is,
Approaching what distance is the runner set it for home,
Rules among conquers words of relapse circle of comas,
like the ice age,
If learning is not free I say set sail to eastern hemisphere
Ask them the dawn question,
If freedom is the question and love is real,
Then what is the suggestion.
Categories:
comas, art, love,
Form:
Verse
Clams on parade go salty down
Slip into comas in throats of oceans
Land on floor beds blanketed in mud
In love with the mighty waves above
Lights on the shore, lights from stars
Reflect memories back to sea
Once more before the storm is formed
Of what is to become of shells not found
Is left unanswered
Somewhere below the clouds out loud
Between muffled sounds of thunder
Happy clams alarmed by nothing
Anchored by one foot in mud’s reality
Begin another day of freedom beneath
What of the fantastic ships at salty sea?
Raise the colors to the wind boys!
Churn with the waves towards shore
Crash on rocks to swallow them whole
Sell your souls below before you turn old
Voices lift higher to fill in the hour
Before the songs end in the mist
The power of dawn cracks open
Breaks like an egg in need of fire
Evaporates with the days arrival
Drink in the moment of the dive
So much salt can’t be wrong
Familiar with sand, shells become wise
Stand erect in tides to savor the depths
Suck up the flavor of the day
Currently under investigation by muscles
Too deep to measure as they contemplate
Restraints imposed on them by nature
Gray mouths close tightly in a smile
Clams hold on with one foot in reality
Anchored, shell shocked by tidal wilds
Must we wait for oyster logic
Pressure sets in when air’s depleted
Mud is soft and cloudy under there
Gathering objects in the dark
Can make it easy to forget
Oxygen is needed to catch your breath
To catch a clam you must use sense
Surely there is a compass in the sand
Stationed on terrains still under way
Clams parade oblivious to the obvious
Sounds are heard from up above
Only waves know the meaning
Above, the sea is distorted by light
Below, deep in thought, oceans nap
Clams begin to dance as mollusks
Crustaceans dwell within their boundaries
Debating whether mollusks should have feet
They do this frequently without sleep
Categories:
comas, beach, celebration, ocean,
Form:
Free verse
The poet police pay attention to
punctuation, they patrol pauses,
comas, and correct enunciation..
The poet police prefer prolific
prose, perfumy pendants so
pen one of those..
Be mindful of what type of
poem you compose.
Pay attention to your tone,
and never ever park your poems
in a no poetry parking zone.
Categories:
comas, 1st grade, poems, poetry,
Form:
Light Verse
Cut the chedder
World wide boom and bust
Economic cycles derived
From circadian rhythms
Making a corroded artery plunge
Into diabetic, catatonic comas
Companies that mine hormones
Sparkling that appetite reservoir
Congress will fund the model
Subsidies to the dirt and cheese
Feed lot arranged for meaty pleasure
Health stricken from the record
Drug money pays of the comeback
So get wise to the guise
The greed is still obscene
No unvarnished truth can belie statistics
We participate in the destiny
Claim you freedom and creativity
Consuming is voting by other means
For what is
And what will become
Categories:
comas, animals, business, people, drug,
Form:
Free verse
Take these pills three times a day.
Not crazy for regular people.
Who aren’t held hostage
Or in comas by pills.
Crazy for me.
And I suspected it.
So I did something I had never done.
I pressed pharmacy consultation
Before I left the
Drug pill store.
Pills knock me out and take me down
I told the pill pusher there.
Do you think I need three of these a day?
She stared into my heart hard.
It sped up, being pulled out, like that.
Take one a day, to start, she told me.
If that does not work, try two.
I trusted her instantly.
Thanked her and took my little white bag away.
$4.08 worth of something.
One pill kept me
In a comatose state
For 16 hours.
Muscle relaxers.
Damn!
Categories:
comas, self,
Form:
Free verse
GOOSEBERRIES AND SHARP CREASES
The plumpest, juiciest, hairiest gooseberries
My grandfather grew in a circular bed,
Dead centre of the immaculate lawn.
And blackcurrants under netting,
And a Victoria plum tree in the far corner.
He taught me to hitch up my trousers at the knee
When I sat down, to avoid spoiling the creases.
And to touch the peak of my cap
When I passed a lady in the street.
But he was a sick man;
Tuberculosis and diabetes that would send him
Into long, deep comas.
He would have taught me a whole lot more,
But for that final coma.
1st July 2020
In Loving Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Regina Riddle
Categories:
comas, death, grandfather, sick,
Form:
Free verse