Best Cropped Poems
**Back smile/smile Back **
With your heads way up your :]ssa[:
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease,
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well,
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage
With progressive mental retardation
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips
He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in,
The madness in Alice's Wonderland
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Revealing
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle,
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs
Cross My heart and hope to die!!!
~SKAT~
Categories:
cropped, adventure, deep, hate, irony,
Form:
Epic
What Holds More Resplendent Gifts Of The Great And Vast Beyond
Seas of poetry orations, I once took my swims
being strong in spirit, stouter in heart and lithe of limbs
What dread had I of illness or passage of Father Time
when great beauty of verse sang so deep, dancing in its rhyme
Waves of its amber grains, its sandy beach, its great pleasures
stirred heart, pleading soul in immeasurable measures!
If tired, I cast myself upon lands flowing true and fair
seeing magnificence in Earth, Life, Nature- everywhere
Before dawn, before slumber flees this soul's poetry dreams
of paradise shores, poetic thoughts, soft cast golden beams
Winds of change and sublime words to describe and thus to match
castles of hope, beauty's grace and golden eggs- set to hatch!
Fearing not of, high flying fancies and heavenly flights
of lost romantic desires, cast adrift on stormy nights
Or that of abandoned ships left behind in gleaming seas
for poetry gifts its love and blessings of granted pleas
Bountiful harvests of word-seeds so pleasurably sown
are but summer days sending cool winds so gratefully blown!
What holds more resplendent gifts of the great and vast beyond
than poetry, its powers, which poets are so very fond
How its paintings, colors memories one sweetly recalls
of life, living and flames of hot-romance youth often falls
Beyond poetic seas of white-cropped waves and foaming foam
may this old poet's soul, in death, forever gaily roam!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-03-2018
Rhyme, (Inspired verse) (Poetry is Life and Treasure too)
Note- I dedicate this poem to my very good friend Susan Ashley and her wondrously inspiring new poem that inspired me to write this today.
Her new poem titled, The Red Leaf- set me to thinking of its beautiful poetry
and life. And how much poetry means to so many dedicated and in love with poetry poets!
I sat down and this flowed right on out, early this morn.
Note: Use in my poem of "white-cropped" = "white" for good, "cropped" for "appearing unexpectedly".
Thus translated- beyond poetic seas of = unexpectedly good waves and foaming foam.
Definition of “crop up” - English Dictionary
American
English
“crop up” in American English
See all translations
crop up
-pp-
— phrasal verb with crop US ? /kr?p/ verb [ T ] -pp-
?to happen or appear unexpectedly:
Categories:
cropped, art, creation, dedication, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
A corner shop, a busy street
your mother's hand, your dragging feet
I can almost set the scene.......A messy rack of magazines,
A barber pole, some shaving cream, and jars of greasy Brilliantine
I try to picture you back then,
How many barbers have there been?
Your rosy cheeks, eyes shining bright,
above the crisp white cloth so tight,
around your neck. (You hated that!)
A squirmy worm, but there you sat
Your daddy waits to pay the bill
Darn it, won't you please hold still?!!
Today there's less to take off top
Behind you, I have snipped and cropped
My scissors fold and I must stop
and for a moment I was there...
and saw that small boy in the chair
Categories:
cropped, childhood, husband, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Was it a sheer accident that I became a poet?
Poetry, I didn’t pursue, rather it cropped up
As a late-night guest, quite unexpected.
A teacher’s career, I have been bent upon
And prefer to be known more as a teacher than a poet.
In my eyes, teachers are a venerable sort,
Happy that I could belong to that ‘special’ lot,
Instilling in young ones - newer insights gleaned,
Enriching their lives - with atoms of knowledge pooled,
Brightening their paths - with millions of lanterns lit,
Rowing them away - from the perilous shoals of life,
And leading them to be anchored on safer shores!
A teacher sure stands taller above,
Every other mortal who serves!!
Numerous are the guise a teacher has to put on,
And cleverer the tricks she has to play,
To tackle the wards in her all-out care,
And launch them out into a world to fare.
I have played all at once myriad roles,
More of a mentor and not just a tutor,
A physician who heals, a nurse who tends,
A parent who cares or a pal who shares,
A patron who supports or a lawyer who argues,
A scholar who learns and a master who trains.
As Christ taught his disciples - with parables many,
As Socrates instructed the youth - through endless queries,
As Sullivan led Keller - to the new dawn of light,
As Aesop enlightened kids - with countless tales,
I strove to be a TEACHER.
An erudite soul with a mission!
A sculptor who sees an angel, veiled within a rock!
An architect building an edifice to last a lifetime!
A warrior uncompromising in war,
On Ignorance – the most ignoble foe!
I don’t know where I presently stand,
Nor do I know how my students would rate me,
Though often floundered or failed to act,
In the manner I ever so longed to do,
I would rather be a TEACHER all my life,
A ‘guru’ out and out, from hilt to heel.
And I would wear that mantle with pride!
Categories:
cropped, destiny, inspirational, passion,
Form:
Free verse
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's
dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's,
my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts,
calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion.
My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes,
Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes.
Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Categories:
cropped, beautiful, hair, introspection, life,
Form:
Pantoum
(Base USO club, Zweibrucken, Germany, 1963)
Of a lazy afternoon, I sit
propped up,
Bones aching, sorely tired from
lack of work,
And dutifully read the comic
strips
With bored eyes while my mind
dozes.
I sit enveloped in my peculiar
Grayish pallor, which clings
And will not disappear,
And martyr myself to the gods
of convention.
I smoke acrid-tasting cigarettes and
Loudly chew a cud of gum, popping it
Absent-mindedly, and I turn the
crinkly sounding
Pages, one after one, slowly
and intently,
So as not to disarrange the sheaf.
The dryish smell of printed
comic strips
Irritates my nose, but I don't
sneeze --
Merely wriggle it a bit for some
relief.
My brightly polished shoes are propped
Upon the table and I lean back and tilt
the chair, and my hair
Is closely cropped and combed with care,
no strand
Out of place, pomaded and arranged.
My clothes are neat and clean
and stylish
And I brush away a nonexistent
crumb and
I slowly chew and loudly pop my gum,
Moisten index finger, moisten thumb,
And turn the colored printed page
of comics,
Snicker at the antics pictured
While I glance about.
And wonder.
Categories:
cropped, absence, angst, anxiety, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
WHAT THE!!!.........WHO IS THIS???
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'VE BEEN PHOTO SHOPPED???
How could that possibly be?
I only wanted the picture cropped and framed!
You can't really think that looks like me!
When did I become seven feet tall?
My eyes are brown, not Malachite green!
You've made my arms longer than my legs!
Why are my ears the color of Tangerine???
I like to smile but you've given me one
that goes off my face left and right!
And what's up with half of me looking like day,
and the other half looking like night???
You've given me two feet so long
I have to go to an intersection
just to turn around!
And I've never had hair down to my knees!!!
You might as well have let it touch the ground!
You've given me a superhero's upper body
with a waistline the size of a pen!
Oh, come on! Those legs look like two soda straws!
This is one weird looking specimen!!!
The camera was designed to reflect real life
in pictures portraying life as it is!
I don't take selfies every two seconds!!!
What sort of madness is this?
I am not a celebrity
who has to be over concerned with a look!
Please! Put everything back the way it was
for my request you have grossly mistook!
Whatever the world is coming to
some things really need to be stopped!
"You gave me a nose like a battleship anchor!!!"
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'VE BEEN PHOTO SHOPPED???
WTA-IV 5/11/2016
Categories:
cropped, computer, humor, imagery, satire,
Form:
Rhyme
FEEDING HORSES
She was four years old
Apples in bulging pockets from garden trees
Cold day in autumn
Stroll down to Paddy Sands’s horse pasture
Stop at five-bar gate and lift her up
Call or whistle - they come from a half-kilometre
Black, brown mares, one gelding
Jealous one tries to bite the others
Jostling for position at the gate
All those soft soft noses.....
They will permit stroking
If fed enough handfuls of grass
Grass tastes better from our hands
Than when cropped by them,
(Especially with tiny flowers of blue vetch).
Their big brown eyes close up
So peaceful and trusting
Tempting furry ears just out of reach for her
Turning cold now after half an hour
Spoil them with our apples before we go home
Show her how to hold back her thumb
So it doesn’t get bitten.
Walk home through Sands’s cropped hayfield
To tea and biscuits.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Carol Brown's Contest "A Horse Story"
Categories:
cropped, animalshorse,
Form:
Free verse
Held behind cold stone walls,
In silence, marched to work.
The shabby dressed walked prison halls,
Hell waits for those who shirk.
Breaking rocks or picking rope,
Naught to eat save gruel and bread,
Pointless toil, devoid of hope,
Here worked the living dead.
Mornings in the chapel praying,
The gathered wincing at the drops,
The hangman had the condemned swaying,
Yet more unworthy souls now cropped.
The chaplain looking down his nose,
He could better use his ministrations,
The faithless sat in squalid rows,
(As he prayed for a better station.)
Ne'er has a place been so bleak,
Nor seen more fear and woes,
If the Devil sought out company,
It would be here he chose.
Categories:
cropped, judgement, prison,
Form:
Rhyme
In the event that I forget
what this poem is about
I refer you now to the birds
outside my window.
They are silent – it is a sound-proof window,
but I want to speak of windows more.
I should have titled this poem ‘Window’
but then the silence and the birds got my attention.
What is a poem - rhetorical unanswerable question,
yet perhaps they are a silent window,
the words being birds only the eyes
and the heart can hear. Well they could be.
Before he died in the Hospice
my father would gaze out of the same window
everyday.
On the other side of that silent window
horses grazed in a paddock – nothing special.
We both would sit facing that expanse of glass,
I wondering what to say next,
He nodding and smiling at the horses,
the green cropped grass - the occasional birds.
Not a sound did they all make
but father was listening and seeing
what only those close to the center
of silence can see.
I believe the words end here.
In the event of my losing my place
In the ensuing quietus
please look away.
Categories:
cropped, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
While in course of writing
Some words appear spontaneously
We see a new face smiling
Though not meaningful literally
Such suddenly cropped up medium
Of expressing our thoughts and music
We aptly call them idiom
That captures the shadow elusive
Only the other day in a composition
About the picture of loneliness
I wrote the words without hesitation
‘Page after page keeps crying empty’
Let me quote the whole extract
To make my viewpoint more exact
“There are times when the river leaves me
Robbed of all chime air is paranoid
Page after page keeps crying empty
Lost into barren blue, moments annoyed
Getting into thick crowd broadens the void
So sitting alone with dark Pink Floyd”
____________________________________________________________
July 27, 2016
For the Poetry Contest: Create an Idiom
Sponsor: Jesse Day
Note: My poem ‘Blank Pages’ contains this idiomatic expression ‘crying empty’ which many fellow poets in ‘Poetry Soup’ have read. I do nurture a thought to refer it to some competent forum like Oxford Dictionary for their opinion.
Categories:
cropped, creation, culture, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh! I wish I could spell “weirdo”! It really bothers me.
Is it the “e” before the “i”, or the “i” before the “e”?
Now, if it was a German word, I wouldn’t have to try.
I know “ie” is always eee, and “ei”’s always eye.
It doesn’t have a Latin root, so that rule won’t apply …
It really has no hook at all that I can grab it by.
Yes! It’s good old Anglo-Saxon, full of grunts and mangled vowels.
They didn’t have to write it- they’d communicate with scowls.
No! I really can’t spell “weirdo”! Not to write, or speak, or sing …
So the only answer I can find is ... don’t use the bloomin’ thing!
...........................................................................................................
This problem cropped up when I wrote"Mum's Advice Ignored" ...
I'm usually quite a good speller!
Entered in Susan Burch's contest, "Ridiculous Self- exaggerations"
Categories:
cropped, confusion, funny, on writing
Form:
Couplet
Despicable
Marie Antoine
dressed in puce
paraded
her gown,
with a queenly
high head,
the pretty
little tome
soon to be
cropped.
When the chopper
had his way,
her head
came off
and her face
turned puce.
Was it purple
or puke green?
Maybe that’s the
reason puce is so
confusing.
In Marie’s case
she was not
confused,
just dead.
Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
for a contest about our favorite color. I must admit it is not my favorite
Categories:
cropped, color,
Form:
Free verse
Battle me, ill thrash thee into dust
Warrior spirit bust with a carnage thrust to ya chest
Evolving the sun into my godliness throne
But the moon says i make her moan
So i gotta plant my seeds into her lunar drones
Midnight admission, crackhead addictions
Street corner benedictions
Minotaur inscription ending in nothingness
Its best that opal u-turns, burn the scar deep within
Dragon blends seethe swords conceived tainted lore
Belize believe nothing else comes close, cuz i wrote IN'I gourds
African soldiery and more, strike existence snare
Pour youth between thin air blocks columbine shocked
Aviators rocked I flew higher than they ever got
Stocks and bonds cropped akuma slash block
My talents germinate brain waves optimistic in nature
Irreligious vapors incompetent
Money rules the defense soon to trial, convictions vile
Shape up son, close is judgment interaction won
Unless hector had the gun and he was the one by your side
Categories:
cropped, history
Form:
Free verse
Lying in the field reading poetry.
Jet black hair,cropped short , with sparkles.
I'm enticed,sweet voice is now only a memory.
No bitterness, only deep shadows,I live inside.
It was a home,now its a hovel.
Sleep is where I can see you now.Sleep
I long for sleep to wrap its warmth. I live there too.
Entitled,but I dwell in it. I cant breath there anymore.
My house is empty without you. I need to dream you ..
Dream you fast and dream you hard...
The windows are broken,those neighbors with their rocks.
I close my eyes and feel your hot hands touching me.
Its gray hair, its no hair, whats in a decade.....................
Categories:
cropped, dedication, dream, dream,
Form:
Narrative