Best Connotation Poems | Poetry

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Nice Connotation by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Connotation Of Life by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Connotation by Arora, Kunal

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The Best Connotation Poems

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OVERLY sensitive

They say I’m sensitive
Negative connotation
A shroud they want to wrap me in
And put the blame on me
It’s only a joke, you see
Overly sensitive
That’s me

I smile
Positive connotations, my wile
Oh…I’m OVERLY sensitive
It’s true
The throbbing and pulsing
That makes other women sigh
Takes me to the stratosphere high
Senstations multiplied 
I sigh
I cry
I die
And lie
Open
Sensitive to every touch
To every nuance
To every breath
Body quivering
Mind in overdrive
I thrive
On pleasure
Every cell
Sensitive
To touch
To tongue
To lips
To fingers
To thoughts….
To…..W~O~R~D~S
Dipped in sensitivity
Meant to awaken
The sultry sensual me

Oh...I'm OVERLY sensitive
To my lover’s needs
Wanting to please
Tease
Make him weak…
Unable to speak
Waiting for that butterfly caress
That unbuttoning of the dress
That peek a boo see through lace
That wanton hungry…”feed me” face
I trace
every place
sensitive to the signs
that make him come alive
To satiate, my pride
I rule and provide
His momentum...I guide
OVERLY sensitive
till want and need
are released...freed!

OH….I’m OVERLY sensitive
Yes, It's true
and here's a warning
a warning to you!!!
Don’t mess with me
Unless you want to see
Anarchy!!!
I’ll draw blood
In your "knock her down" revelry
I'll win 
I'll fly and be free!!

I’m OVERLY sensitive
That’s me
But I’d rather be this way
Desire delirious
Mayhem mad 
Passion proned
Happy honed
OVERLY sensitive people
Like ME
We....
LIVE life
Moment by moment
Second by sensual second
sensitive and alive
we thrive
we survive
Overly sensitive
ALIVE!

Eileen Manassian





Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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A Tribute To Justin A Bordner

Of the many stars I have seen,
Justin, you are by far the most exquisite
I love how you just mold into my heart,
Sifting the words we share part by part,
Lighting the path to inspiration,
Attaining your lightning connotation

I love how you relate to my struggles,
Allowing my feet to rest on your gentle wings,
How your loving eyes look in-between the lines,
To see inside such poetry, the divine intertwine

You do not waste your time in the sky,
Rising every moment in your heightening knowledge
You burn brighter for what matters
You hold tighter to the light with gladness,
And you are not afraid in the prowling wilderness
You are never afraid to express your genius

Long ago, I had wandered in the haze of many a soul
Closed and withdrawn in the strolls of dark foes
In your luminous presence, you awakened this dreamer
My eyes widening in the unity of word-weavers
To access your bloom was to shatter all doom
And in awe, I aspired to be a part of you

I love that you care of my virtues,
How you give and give tremendously
How we understand each other in synchronizing energy out of this world
I love that you will feel my heart, as I do yours
I will love these truths forevermore

A tribute to this burning star is never enough
You have inspired me beyond what I can see
Beyond what dreams a dreamer be
And for that, I must thank you,
As you persevere in your incomparable brightness
To illuminate my path, and our paths, 
Into the extraordinary, eternal unearthing of fate, fervor and fortune

For the “Tribute: Poetry Contest” 
Sponsored by The Silent One
August 4th, 2015


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015


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Lemons Get a Bum Rap

The poor lovely lemon,
     It’s really so unfair
An arbitrary choice?
    Then why not choose a pear?

Why pick on little lemons
     A bit sour to the taste?
An unfair connotation
     Common sense has been displaced

My car is such a lemon,
    Is said to mean, its junk!
And that ‘When life gives you lemons”…
     Is just a lot of bunk

Why lemons are delicious
     In their bright and cheery hue
There seems to be no end to just what
     They can do for you

Now, they can bleach your elbows
    And can even lighten hair
Try sitting in the sun
     With your hair that’s full of pear

And maybe most important,
     At least it is for me!
I need them for my cocktails
     Well, I need a lemon tree!



Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2018


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Another Vein - - Another Valentine

Another Vein - - Another Valentine

Earth shattering silence you bring
The enveloped wing of your being fills me
Confessions of love are never enough

The more of me to you
Is another vein in my sleepless words
Written restless on hot sheets

How the taste of you
Lingers a sorcery of enchanted language speaks
Soft aphrodisia of my imaginings

Angel of passion in connotation 
Your beauty pussy cats this hearts symmetry
Felled I fall so willingly

Lost in your captured palms
The cage of my ever dreaming love
Holding you would be enough

With the magnitude of the space in my heart
I will give you more
Than love can command


Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009


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The language of migration

Despite the climate challenge with traffic congestion on the road,
there’s still a driving urge to go out and celebrate the Eucharist;
it’s a great deal of commitment to God who’s the source of life,
his language connotes an embodiment of love for our salvation.

Braving the difficulties in coping with the details of missionary life,
such as culture, language, climate, food and many others in foreign lands;
our faith gets tested, our humility gets challenged, and our identity revealed
and these comprise the foundation of being a missionary to other people.

In places where we learned to love the people of different cultures,
the need to adopt, acculturate, and realign to the mysteries of being a migrant,
continues to witness the movements and other signs of the times;
a world replete with endless search drawn from different human experiences.

It’s pretty common as a pervading theme across the passages in the bible;
the word migration that has a powerful connotation and rich in literature,
oh, as the holy scriptures say: “you shall not oppress an alien; you well know
how it feels to be an alien, since you were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt.” 

The advent of a wide range of issues about the struggles in today’s migration,
with varying reactions characterized by principles, ethnic and religious devotion;
a certain perspective is formed according to Christian beliefs and aspirations
that migrants no matter who they are, deserve respect and societal insertion.

Lured by the promise of work and better opportunities that await somewhere,
people across the globe try their luck and take the risk to cross the land,
it’s viewed with deeper reflections like those of mostly Catholic Irish who came by,
their large influx in this country of America during the height of potato blight.

True to form, this parallels the new waves of Hispanic immigration
along with Asians, Africans, and other migrant groups with their history and cultures
truly, it’s a cycle that brings out the commonality of human quest and ambition;
with assimilation and determination to maintain and improve their life situations.



Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012


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A DREAM

A simple nap the beauty sleeps.
Her stupor is deep.

She seems to be thinking within this dream of a salient existence far away.
Her fingers are interconnected significantly.

With imagery shown from her posture, she interrelates to this world.
Connotation of inner peace is seen when she lies silently sleeping.

The colors that surround her while she sleeps are peripheral to where she meanders.
Labyrinths in time that must be superseded for her to awaken.

A simple nap the beauty sleeps.
Her stupor is deep.
______________________|
Penned on May 11, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014


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BS College Degree

It has always been my naïve, farm-boy assumption,
That one attends college to attain a degree of gumption!

And furthermore that Daddy sends his kid to college,
Not so much to party but to obtain a modicum of knowledge!

I assume that the autocrats who abide in Washington D.C.,
Have attended college and somehow earned at least a BS Degree!

BS stands for Bachelor of Science Degree without equivocation,
But it seems in Washington, BS has assumed a different connotation!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013


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My Delivery


I was born with this name 
A name that cannot be moved.
Through my struggles and through my pain
These shackles I shall remove.
Dignified in all my ways 
Eminent proven that can't be replaced.
I am a true man of virtue
That cannot be measured by time or space.

I'm a Star of my own 
Reflecting the rays of my thrown.
Magnificent and Majestic 
In the land of milk and honey, I am the backbone.
Often misunderstood, 
Confound and misconstrued.
Even in contempt of their judgement
My adulation infatuation will remain intact for my brood!

My love is undenying
Everlasting and undying.
Unreplaceable, indestructible
My fable inspires that transcends to be noble.
The King of my castle
A fraction define from a point of a decimal
Denoting in the tenth power 
That represents the commandments of my counsel.

In translation...
I'm a man unrecognized by his emotions
Yet his word's expression
Forms a principle which defines in connotation.
My concentration
Concerns to adjourn any iniquitous Interpretation. 
Adjudicated as if uneducated
Yet  their mind's unable to define the intonation of my elucidation. 

So therefore there's no question!
That I am...A son reflected by his own creation.
In his own reflection 
My third eye indicates the gift of this phenomenal articulation. 
So as my motivation
My delivery will continue to build in its meticulous manifestation.
A man that will man up
To whom, I will claim to recognize his own dejected aberration.


Copyright © Ajalon Michael Zarate | Year Posted 2013


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Am I a Jinx

The dictionary says that a jinx
is one who brings bad luck
and to jinx someone or some thing
is “To foredoom to failure or misfortune.”
 Unfortunately, my track record
would indicate that I am one
who is subject to an unlucky force,
and this connotation brings on words
like hex, curse, spell, voodoo, sabotage,
and phrases such as evil eye, unlucky charm,
kiss of death, and one I'd never heard before,
“Point the bone at.”
Not that I'm superstitious or anything,
but if I point a finger at you,
you might want to run!




Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014


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The Poems Face

I am drizzled from thoughts that the heart footholds
With words of wisdom which are pure as gold

And as I form into an underlying phrase
Every sentence takes it’s own place

With rhymes of words dancing on the page
Every formation is imbedded to the base

With librettos of connotation revolutionising the trace
The vivacity of the ode slowly gets into shape
 
And once the ode is born with complete faith
The poem is made and that’s the face

- Sherwin Fernandes


Copyright © Sherwin Fernandes | Year Posted 2015


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An Insult

I don't know; it burns like hot coffee just to say it
I don't know
I'm usually the one with the answers
the one who's mind never rests
I could come up with a million solutions to any situation
a vivid scenario inside of a perfect design
a round about thought of everything
a certifiable genius reduced to certifiably insane...
What in the world is going on, going wrong with me
I call myself a gladiator
though I'm going through this grief like a small injured child 
an insult, I insult everything I live my life as
I insult the heroes, the slaves, the wolves, the chameleons, the losers
even the losers and I'm the only one who changed it
into a positive connotation
but I disgrace it now by being the martyr, its deceased
but I disgrace it now by proving the loser forever loses
never keeping the girl
I was meant to be the renegade, the chose one
overcome any obstacle, brush it off like a speck of dust
but even the mighty Olympians and famous heroes shy away from me
Even the wind spins away from me
even my closest friends mute me
My role model teacher even proclaimed I've changed
her thoughts of me matched the puzzlement of my own
She may have never said it but how pathetic
She has hope for me to succeed but I drown face down in failure
Rise from the ashes, haha bah! 
I spit at the mockery fed fantasy
I see my demise and embrace it well
I lay curled on the floor waiting for the day to pass
I've danced with slumber thrice now it seems
all the same in length
Looks like I won't rest till the sun rises again, great! 
Ten more hours of darkness
kicking myself with these forbidden thoughts
Living in idiocrasy, denial; insulting everyone who helped me
Combustible element, bah! 
I'm just a small boy who refuses to let go


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016


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Frontsies Or Backsies - Different Take



Now frontsies or backsies can have a different connotation When referring to the many varied sexual orientations To me it doesn't matter As long as there's no chatter To disturb the task at hand and my total concentration © Jack Ellison 2015


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015


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Odin's Brood

Odin's Brood



Tyr, Ziu and Saxnot triple threats to the giants*
Hermoor, Heimdallr, Magni and Thor all so defiant
gods of might and power, protectors of sweet earth
Odin's brave brood , courage and strength since birth

Vali, so very set on revenge and great destruction
so skilled in the guiles of seduction and abduction
Mani, shines with force , moon god of the mighty Norse
attempts seducing Nott , goddess of night , of course

Ullr , god of the winter, the hunt and sword duel
tricked by evil Loki that thought him a great fool
Sjofn, temptress , shining majestic goddess of love
that inspires freyja in love, and battle far above

Odin, that set the universe , the mysteries of life
frigga that bore him the sons of glory and paradise
All players in the Nordic thoughts of darkness and light
each serving to stir man's ardor and great zeal to fight

Greatest of all was the powerful legend of mighty Thor
that roamed the earth , destroying evil shore to shore
The bravest son of all Odin's great, mischievous clan
replacing mighty Tyr in the eyes of justice and man!

07/01/2014

giants* (The Jötnar are a mythological race that live in Jötunheimr, one of the 
nine)
Speakers of Old Norse called them jötnar (singular jötunn, pronounced 
roughly “YO-tun”) or þursar (singular þurs, pronounced “THURS” like the first 
element in “Thursday” but with a soft “s” at the end). Jötunn comes from the 
Proto-Germanic *etunaz and means “devourer.” The Old English eóten is a 
cognate (it means the same thing and comes from the same Proto-Germanic 
word).[1] Þurs is derived from the Proto-Germanic þurisaz and means 
something like “powerful and injurious one” with a secondary connotation 
of “thorn-like.” The Old English ðyrs and Old High German duris are cognates.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014


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Nothing Left to Write

There's nothing left to write.
No more textbook vocabulary to relay your state of mind. 
No more analogies, similes, or metaphors to convince others that your abstract thoughts could ever be compared to concrete concepts. 
No more iambic pentameter to give rhythm to your flat-line emotions, or play-on words to give your conscience a personality. 
No more diction with an optimistic connotation to give negative issues a striking charisma. 

Nothing. 

No more can be written.

Leave it the way it is. Maybe someday it will grow on you.


Copyright © Kirby Browning | Year Posted 2014


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Alphabet Soup

I make my checklist
And begin

Words and lyrics don’t blend but 
Numbers
Concise, not deris{ive}
Begun thinking again. Stop.
Classical music; diction-less connotation.

The history bar grows longer but the checklist never shorted
The train is going in circles and 
my mind is a bowl of alphabet soup.


Copyright © Rosie La Puma | Year Posted 2012


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Separation

                 SEPARATION

	What more blunder
	A nasty small word 
        Could commit
	Bidding you to depart
	Turned out to be forever
	As if it ensured
	Its connotation at summit
	I bade you Bye 
        For at most a day!
 
	No sign of any apparent bite
	But veins are contaminated 
	With venom 	
        Forty-eight-hours-wide separation
	Utterly failed 
	To subside your anger! 						
		
	You snatched away all my words
	This was my mistake, no doubts
	There were other ways
	To hint me upon, though
	Rather a jerk of this magnitude!

	I shall avail of this opportunity, though
	Ensuring to mend my ways
	I take a vow never to peep ever
	In anybody's eyes
	As I did into yours' my love!



Copyright © Sourabh Singh | Year Posted 2016


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Born then, now and or again

Maverick Free Verse

~Born after the flesh, orientation toward cash
Orientation toward Spirit, heavens are always near it
That which one loves, covers one like a glove
Orientations make clear, toward it one will always steer
One’s orientation always manifests as one’s connotations
and by it Love or greed take a vacation

~A awesome retreat, is an end as a rest complete 
while if lust be thrust, in it one will trust
 
~If Love be one’s glove, one trusts in heavenly Dove
Meditate and orientate, Love a wait’s one’s fate
to open or close one’s sacred gate
Born then, now and again 
a waits Love at one’s begin, patiently at one’s end

~Born after the flesh, orientation toward cash
like a stock market’s eventual crash
Connotation as vacations  are temporal creations
illusionary information, fleshly concepts of creation  
                                                                           Selah!




Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011


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Devoid of Love

DEVOID OF LOVE
________________

Dawn of your life, 
Sun doesn't rise.
Morning greets gloom.
Noon is a matter of grey.
Shadow lost its silhouette.

In hustle and bustle of life.
Standing in the crowded street. 
No one stops to stare.
At this ravaged state of self.

Music seems to have lost its magic.
Chirping of birds are piercing your ear.
Child crying causes agitation.
Gentle breeze irritates your skin.
'Hello', seems to mean hostility.

Evenings are lacing blues.
Dusk, she wears no twlight.
Nights are damp and cold.
Midnight clouds the mind.
Moon she's lost her sheen.
Stars abandoned the sky.

Rembrant's brush failed its stroke.
His mind has lost perception.
Expression have ceased. 
Imagination lost its mind. 
Canvas remains unfinished.
Images of deceptions.
Colours make no more sense.

Thoughts have lost imagination.
Words have no connotation.
Expressions are deceiving.
Voice has lost its sound. 
Smile has lost its curve.
Vision just a blur.

Time stands still. 
suspended animation.
In this vacant space of mind.
Heart doesn't seem to beat.

"ALL BECAUSE YOUR TOTALLY DEVOID OF LOVE ".

When LOVE smiled at you ,
You looked away....???
You " BLUNDERING " fool...!!!

Your heart and soul, Can only perform .
"INTOXICATED" by the nectar of LOVE.
Fuelling your mind with sublime thoughts,
Giving meaning to your life.

"SO GO AND FIND YOURSELF SOMEONE ,
 TO LOVE AND BE LOVED".


Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014


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Modern Religion

Belief is dangerous
in its modern connotation.

Oh, wait,
this is a poem, so I'll kinda make it something that sorta
resembles one.

Anyway, the thing is if you don't believe what I do
or I don't believe what you do
(pretty much the same thing, eh?)

then we consider each other evil
and there is no room for acceptance
because if we accept evil, we're gonna burn or freeze
eternally
or get shunned
or bombed
or miss out on our seventy virgins
or come back in our next life as somekindapieceashit...

Understanding, on the other hand,
EVEN if disbelief (aka disagreement)  is involved
is a cool thing to strive for.


Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2012


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Lifeline

It’s a funny thing.
Has a connotation of pain and hate.
To me:
Its survival. It’s all I have.
If I lose it- I die.
If I see it, if I feel it- I live.
So far its been pain and only that
I wait for my chance
Until then, I live off of it.
My blood.


Copyright © Molly Alcorn | Year Posted 2011


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Black Rains

Is luck a myth or reality
likewise karma
Are they false entities we've created
or are they just a realm of superstition
but I ponder not the facts
nor these questions so why do I care
Why do I persist to dabble in irrelevancy
to distract my mind from the evils outside
When did I become on the list of the punished
What have I done so wrong to be on the receiving end
of such a terrible robbery
Why are you robbing me of my luck, my home
of everything I love
Why, when I finally fit in
Why, when I've finally found my place
I have to pack my bags, say 'Au revoir'
like I didn't care at all about anything I've gained
Would it be wrong for me to say I want my life to end
or has it already
My pen shares my grief as it allows a heavy cloud
of black rain
to dance along lines of blue grass
in a melancholy connotation
an expression of mourning for its distraught author
but I decorate its work with malice and confusion
Treat it like a canvas and decorate it in red
to say 'the rain gave truth to what's in my heart
but my heart is as black as I am red'


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016


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EN-TAWN-DRES



Going to get a “haircut” today Actually getting all of them cut Cutting just one would hardly be noticed Now I'm being a silly nut There's many other sayings similar to this English is overloaded I find Wanna hear some others I've discovered Well stay tuned it'll blow your mind “Keep your nose to the grindstone” Now THAT'S gotta smart I'd say See what I mean, don't follow this advice You'll feel pain from here to Sunday How about this one, “eye candy” It certainly has me bamboozled “Less is more” is another that's confusing Looking for others for your perusal Here's another, “left in the lurch” Pretty sure they meant left in the “church” “Dead as a doornail” as dead as you can be Gonna do a little more research To “peter out” means to dwindle away Has a certain sexual connotation Put it back in, it's a public place You'll be arrested for excessive potation “I rest my case”, now here's another one Wasn't even carrying a case Okay gonna “put this thing to bed” Yikes! Can't wipe this grin from my face! © Jack Ellison 2013
POTATION • the action of drinking something, esp. Alcohol: I intend to abstain from potation. • (often potations) a drinking bout: the dreadful potations of his youth.


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013


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Did you call my name

Did you call my name


There couldn't flourish green tufts in me
As they couldn't grow on cacti
Like scorched typhoon
In desert
I flew aimlessly.
The colorless wings of
My recurrent desires were not possible to
Be recognized
As that of images of fountains
Sprouting in the eyes of deer.
I was searching
For those helpless moments,
Burning in the fire of love,
Few words drenched
In the moist sensations
With tender touch of
Freshly bloomed petals.
I could hand on
Certain stranger words
Roaming like tourists
Beyond the boundary of connotation. 
In my stilled sight
There fallen 
Your impenetrable bag
Filled with rosy words
Like grains of pomegranate.
Whereas the world has
Shriveled behind me
Its doors and windows
Like limbs of tortoise,
A musical whisper
Was fumbling my back
On this unknown path of love
Did you call my name?




Copyright © Sourabh Singh | Year Posted 2016


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Different Connotations

I reckon you could rightly say that I am from the old school,
But some of the politically correct stuff today, as a general rule,
Leaves me scratching my skull, baffled and so incredulous,
Groping for the proper words as I try to be cautious and sedulous!

When I was growing up many years ago, people were "happy and gay!"
I know I step on sensitive toes but that term would offend some today!
When you were "happy and gay" it meant that you were jolly and elated,
But "gay" has a different connotation today, completely unrelated!

When you "made love" in my day it usually meant you were "necking",
Parked in your old jalopy, music playing, smooching and pecking!
Nowadays, "making love" has a different connotation, but I'll keep it clean!
I shouldn't have to draw a picture - I think you'll figure out what I mean!

Families were disgraced in my day when young Susie was found with child.
She was scorned and sent to "visit Aunt Gladys" out of state, to put it mild!
Seems it's a badge of honor today and is something to be glorified!
Well, whatever, but if it were my kid I would be sorely mortified!

Gossip would run amok when a couple "shacked up" in my old hometown!
Today, "living together" is the politically correct term for settling down!
This was written with lingua in cheek but freedom of tongue guarantees,
That this four score old coot can write anything that he dang well please!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012


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A poet

A poet lives to read and write,
Pen and paper, up all night.
Put the words onto a page,
Paint a picture, fix a stage.

Diction, rhymes, analogy,
Content-full, intent-free.
Active mind for two-fold plots
Until ideas fit in their slots.

Words, they have their connotation:
Dark and fear, doves and salvation.
Poets look past what meets the eye,
They make you laugh, they make you cry.

You should feel the tightness of the rope,
Not merely read it's used to choke.
They answer "why," instead of "what,"
Through scribbled notes and red markups.

A poet's work, well-written should
Transport you to the quiet woods.
The trees, they're not just merely green.
They sway to songs that the birds sing.

A poem should be a favorite dish,
A meal that you will hope and wish
To have just moments before you die,
Full-flavored and meant to satisfy. 


Copyright © Kirby Browning | Year Posted 2014