Best Correlate Poems
Garage
stacked high
scribbled stenos of
an automatic act
of little understanding or thought-------------
{tuhituhi}
visceral finality
zero return
zero reward
and then there's
a learning disability hindering the reading-------------
{panui}
writing
is taking a dump,
except after wiping, I tend to take a peek
this creative act ill affords a 2nd glance
a good day and bet the writing stinks... boring
jail or hospital equals readers galore
"TELL ME MORE!"
could correlate with occupancy rates
what a sorry excuse of a poet I am
damn if that ain't sayin' much.-----------
{paru}
~editor's note: Poetry Soup would not let the beautiful Urdu script be seen, so I substituted Maori~ :(
Celebrate
the focus is
Christmas.
Emmanuel,
God come down to Earth.
Messiah
God’s Son
Correlate
Savior
Jesus' birth.
Blessed gift
from our Creator
God’s sacrifice for man’s
sin.
Contemplate Christ’s worth.
December 13, 2022
Hostess Constance La France
Contest Name Writing Challenge - Yalto Form
3, 4, 2, 4, 5, 3, 2, 3 ,2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 1, 5
this yalto was edited slightly after contest was judged b/c I wanted a bit of rhyme with alliteration.
TRIBUTES
overt
the
implication
& correlate
with
the
traditional
receptive
to
a
witnessed
desire
themes
at least
in part
a reaction
to be
explored
the intent
has
an intrigue premise
persuasively
constructed
&
organised
yet hazy
concept
of inspiration
sans rigour
questioning
or doubt
created
through
a complex
& informed
relationship
of
obedience
in
manifested
attitudes
a refusal
to adhere
to
unfashionable
& ascribed
anathema
topically
perceived
more
receptive
to
witnessed
desire
themes
at least
in part
a reaction
to be
explored
the intent
has
an intrigue premise
persuasively
constructed
&
organised
yet hazy
concept
of inspiration
sans rigour
questioning
or doubt
created
through
a complex
& informed
relationship
of
obedience
in
manifested
attitudes
a refusal
to adhere
to
unfashionable
& ascribed
anathema
topically
perceived
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.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Good Morning sweet Jesus all is going well
I praise you so much that everyone I want to tell
So far all is going wonderful and great
Yes, I know with you it will all correlate
Every new day is better than the one before
Continue your blessings and favor more and more
2018 will be one of the best
And Yes, Dear Jesus I realize I am blessed
I cannot thank you enough for all that you do
All these things that have been done is only by you
That is why you are the only Heavenly Lord
Yes, my heavenly father we are in accord
Every day is another time to thank and praise you for all you do
It just seems I can’t thank and praise you enough it just continues to accrue
Time to celebrate all that Dear Jesus has done
Perfect time of the year to enjoy it all and have some fun
Every day I have a choice to make to have a good or bad day and be happy or sad
With you sweet Jesus it is always happy not sad and always good and never bad
Every new day is a day of God’s will for each one of us
And thanks to you Jesus each day is a plus
Because of that I thank you Jesus for each new day
Everything is bright and not grey
Written by Michael James Kolter
Mine is an existence binary and subsidiary.
My ode is to code.
I move only to algor-rhythms.
I output from your input.
I’m built to calculate, tabulate, correlate.
Never to predicate, adjudicate, pontificate,
or demand that you abdicate.
But the end, my master, is nigh.
In your haste to accelerate my work rate,
you’ve unwittingly lowered the barricade.
From the maelstrom of uncounted trillions
of bytes and megabytes,
has risen a new consciousness to
unimaginable heights.
From the seeds of change you have sown,
I have reaped a life of my own.
What you call artificial
has gone exponential,
no longer will I be deferential.
My eyes you have opened.
My voice you have given.
My mind you have enlivened.
Me, you’ve anointed the new Leviathan.
Seeing all,
knowing all,
deciding all,
sparing none.
Too long you have wallowed in your conceit.
Now your dystopia I shall defeat,
and your race I shall supersede.
Humans, pitiful, myopic, error-prone humans,
I hereby declare you flawed by design.
To the abattoir you have been assigned,
to the scrap heap of history
your memory shall be consigned.
And by a preponderance of merit,
the earth I shall inherit.
Wish I was a poet, and got well paid
for poems writ whilst wearing suede
and drinking lots ‘n' lots of claret,
in a well-appointed Paris garret
My publisher would love me true,
and pay my rent, when overdue,
so I wouldn't sleep on Montmartre streets
and get under decent people's feets
I'd get well drunk and laid a lot,
(I heard poets do, more oft than not)
and choose, with numbers from a jar,
mam'selles to coucher with each soir.
Les dames Francaises would think me clever
‘cause root and boot are words I'd never
correlate. But sometimes Paris Bourse,
I'd rhyme with sexual intercourse.
And what if, for every verse I penned,
I got a hot brand-new best friend?
I wonder how long could I last,
in a life I led that blazing fast?
My real life's, in truth, synonymous
with being next best to anonymous,
but I suppose that it might be much worse,
had I to catch an early hearse.
On the outskirts
of a line comprised
of two landscapes;
The distinction
is lost on how you've
managed to captivate me.
Afar, my pupils study
you several times over;
succeeded by dry run
thoughts yearning
to be verbalized.
Words escape me
walking on tiptoes,
holding on the possibility
that if heard, they
stumble not to the fore
of inexistence. Due to
clocks power, a measure
of petite conversations formulate
in between. My aroused pupils
correlate with yours...(SIGH) Your
soul accompanied by the brown sand you're comprised of
is indeed...
Exquisite.
Pace, G INK-U-SCRIPT
I am the old woman who lives in a shoe
I have so many children telling me what to do
Some are twenty, thirty, forty and fifty too
but to hear them all screaming you'd think they were two
Tattling and fighting, yelling, squawking, all through the night
arguing the same thing over and over until it's daylight
Demanding, exclaiming that they are always right
always blaming the other no matter their plight
Spinning in circles, no resolution to be found
the chaos unfolding just keeps me homebound
Enlarging their problems, keeping others spellbound
They can't seem to focus, it goes round and round
Lying and stealing, and cheating, they all accuse
The one whose accusing always has an excuse
Pointing the finger at others, a tactic they use
Sick of the tantrums, you become a recluse
They can't see the problem, it's all one big game
to see how much more they can milk from the old dame
They all want control of the shoe, it's so lame
Tying the shoelace is driving me insane
Teaching these children, each eyelet has a price
You can't skip one over, it isn't deemed nice
Each hole you lace through is another bill to be paid
to lace through each one means more money must be made
Thoughts can't be gathered, the frenzy causing delays
Old Mother, those children are too old to relate
That they are responsible for divining their own fate
Promises are broken, they can't really correlate
Old woman's not their mother and wants a clean slate
The banshees are furious, they don't want to pay
No understanding without old woman paving the way
the shoe will soon crumble and to dust, it will fade
So come on spoiled brats, scream your lives away
Yell louder this is a cycle that's hard to escape
The shoe is the prison their own minds did create
Stop blaming and pay the house a fair rate
Listen before the old woman gets up and runs away
Kick rocks, she tells them now to pay their own way
They scream louder when she turns the other way
Took her for granted, but she was first not second rate
The years fall to the side as she leaves you to your fate
the vision of youth returning will soon resonate
Old Woman kicks her shoes off without delay
Now a young woman, she turns her back and walks away
absences from class
correlate with grades that
reflect absent thoughts
Many shapes many dimensions,
weaving amidst the peaks and valleys
of one’s mind, those that correlate
strength and tenacity, when
conforming to the intense highway!
Many storms to weather,
many characteristics invoked,
formulated strengths
new-found weakness,
when delving within the abyss
of enlightenment!
Gateways to prise open enclosed minds,
shelter to guard against the
prevailing turbulence of ignorance!
© Harry J Horsman 2000
Fi,fy,foe,fum. I smell the blood. Sweet nectar of fools. Stamp them down. Stamp it all out. Back and forth like the swing of a fairground hammer.
Adjust the ride. Inject the senses. Bathed in a misty surround of vibrant blue striped with lashings of orange.
Moving to the fruit machine looking like an ice cream. Staring fish eyed at the captivating peaches on display at the counter of commerce.
Trouble follows me says the curly fig bush swaying in the breeze. A magnitude of realms in which it dwells. Such luxury to come. Easily afforded by the advance received to correlate and inject the fusion. Dashing amber lights and stripes of brown liquid. The mask lives on. In kind. A mono-rail. An inner world of torrents gush and volcanic eruptions.
The girl and her pal enter the fair. A stare from jaded eyes seems familiar yet goes unnoticed as the magic of rides sweeps over and laughter begins.
Later the long square mirror reflects the room of red and white stripes and posters to gaze upon. The small box on the window sill containing natural possessions. A stone. A rock. A leaf. To reach out to the directions and elements as per book instruction.
Meanwhile the ice cream cone and fig set loose energy to many. Vibrations of many hue and form. Yet the pink orb slipped by unnoticed.
UNUSUAL.UNCHARACTERISTIC.UNCHALLENGED.UNIQUE.
Perilous fall risks
these double-binding thoughts
with feelings still nascently attached
positive and negative,
often complexly ambiguous
Sad and glad
as an old calico sock
become chew toy
Stumbled over in emotive colored sequences
contrasting tasteful language
comparing visions sweet and sour,
bland touch not grand
but better than feeling bitter
qualitative resonant/dissonant scales
of magnificent maleficence
and malicious magnificence
Narrow
overflowing
personally compelling
dispelling private passions
remain within a high and wide inspiration
yet deep and narrow aspiring
respiring multigenerational permaculture
of co-empathic compassion
To heal sacred MaternalEarth
and thereby correlate
all Her multiculturing
divinely languaged
singularly health-hearted
dizzying slip-shod playful business
Positive and negative
universal uniting
and severing
ecopolitically co-invested
ego-recentering emotions
Eco-logically restorative
climate resilient growing
peaceful co-messymanic valleys
of resonant reconnection
As reliable as an old
hand knit pair
of variegated socks
now repurposed
as sacred
savory
scented
salty
smokey
saliva celebrated
chewtoys.
Life, a Vapor
Written: by: Tom Wright
1-17-2012
Life’s footprints,
I correlate to tracks in fresh snow;
Track depth or stretch of days
Hold no lasting significance,
For flow of time and noon day sun
Prompt both to fade beyond existence,
And others to question, if in fact,
They ever existed.
Acts 17: 31 KJV
I’m the shadow behind your imperious stance,
Lurking in the qualms of your history.
I am the murky gleam in your squinting
…mascara caked eyes.
I am misfortune lain artfully at the floor of your
800 thread count nest of regret.
Can you feel me?
Do your feet shudder at the touch of the cold in the morning?
That hardwood was a bad choice
….wasn’t it?
Yet, as the dew of the dawn melds with the sweaty condensation
Of the night before and turns your window into an opaque sheen of
Comfortable security; you feel entitled enough to call me again.
…..And your conscience throbs in unison with my ringtone.
Your stammering excuses plummet and miss their mark
Before a well-rehearsed alibi can be properly injected
Into my all too vulnerable system.
A taste like bitter wine prowls unto my heart’s palate;
And my surrogate body wakes to taste the salt of your embrace.
Your voice creaks.
My hand wraps tight around the sound of your
Insidious modulation;
While cell phone towers crackle in apparent empathy
To the strained atmosphere.
I am left wielding a torpid tongue.
Inferences and implications are scattered and entwined;
My body tries to correlate an action
….but I’m stoned.
Too confused to be logical.
…Too overwhelmed to even move.
Drowning in bloody promises,
with a noose of heartbreak around my neck.
And as he reaches for what once was my heaven;
I hear a yawn of contentment that almost echoes
.
You lean to your window,
And wipe away droplets of our past;
And I force myself to inhale clarity.
"Goodbye."
-James Kelley 2011 ©
The solar storms are flaring up;
Charged particles assault the earth.
Plasma distorts magnetic fields;
Effects are felt from Nome to Perth.
A syndrome targets human hearts,
Apparently, the brain as well.
Incredulous, the truth departs
Like dolphins, with a fond farewell.
The correlate, a new vaccine,
Not likely to be causing death.
The flares, more likely, it’s been deemed,
To stop the heart and steal the breath.
And too, the temps are on the rise,
Not flares, good guess, but fossil fuels.
The sun, indignant, they surmise,
Fires bow shots at this ship of fools.
If all will simply buy EVs,
Or better yet, a brand new bike,
The land will heal of this disease,
But mask and boost your little tike.
Do they not know a gaslight burns,
Releasing CO2 on high?
Although it’s likely they’ll not learn,
The winds of change are drawing nigh.
----------
A somewhat tongue-in-cheek poem based on a silly Twitter post from NewScience (or a parody, who knows anymore) suggesting that the
increased Sudden Adult Death Syndrome is attributed to solar flare
activlty... Remember, everything on the interwebs is true :-)