Best Definition Poems
(PoetrySoup Format)
You are my reality ( a reassuring reflection )
a believer, an achiever – my expectation
secured symmetry
illuminating my imagination
- in paragraphs of poetry
( My reason to be )
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Scribbling Outside the Lines
~ Looking beyond the Ordinary ~
* Because You are my Vocabulary *
Her laugh is so melodious, a siren song, crashing ships and stealing hearts.
She's stolen my heart.
Yet you can't steal something that's already yours.
Her body is a mystery, one for the history books.
Her lips, so pink and kissable, taunt me like a schoolboy.
She is a goddess,
a true Aphrodite,
a creature of immense and unexplainable beauty.
Yet beautiful is an insult.
She is not beautiful.
She is a work of art, a true Picasso.
In her eyes, I see infinity.
I see stars.
I see the Devil himself.
What I do not see, is her.
She wears a mask.
She hides herself from others like a frightened puppy in a thunderstorm.
And yet, she could not be any more perfect.
Perfect.
You look up the word perfect in the dictionary, and you will see her face.
Perfect.
Perfect dark brown curls, curls darker than my soul.
Perfect.
Perfect smile, a smile so killer it deserves twenty-five to life in the local prison.
Perfect.
When I see her, I'm a deer caught in headlights.
I'm frozen, turned to ice, turned to stone.
Her beauty could stun Medusa.
When she smiles at me, I see Heaven.
I talk with God like he's an old friend.
And when she says my name, I melt like the wicked witch,
and fall deeper...and deeper...and deeper...
Love is the climax of my happiness,
The pinnacle of my pain..
Love is the fire in my heart with an eternal flame.
What is innocence
Is it a little boy
that pulls his toy
fire truck down the street
And it follows him on a string
As he dodges empty beer bottles
And crack needles
Wishing his toy.
had wings
Is it a little girl who dreams of tea parties
And dolls
And in the next room her father hits her mom
And slams her against
Walls
Is it the kid who’s playing cops
And robbers
And finds his fathers gun
And suddenly it’s not so fun
What is innocence
Is it the American in his lazy boy
Watching American idol
As if it’s, his idol
As his government bombs another village
Is it becoming aware of our obesity epidemic
As another child dies from an
Empty stomach
What is innocence
Is it venti coffee you buy for $4.99
To stay awake at work
As you push passed the homeless
As you stand in line
And you clutch your quarters
And mutter, this is mine
Is it teaching your family Jesus and love
As you yell…
Nuke those Muslim towel heads
Send them to, hell
(continued in part 2)
(continued from part 1)
What is innocence
that little boy
whose pulling his toy
with it’s broken wheel
Do you think he doesn’t know that the price of that crack needle
Could buy him a meal?
Do you think he doesn’t, know
that that beer bottle
Is why he bares the bruises on his skin
Is it why he has to force himself to grin?
Is that little girl sitting with her perfectly coifed dolls
Singing to herself so she doesn’t hear the screams
Doesn’t she scream in terror
as her father bursts into her dreams.
And shoves her mom crashing into her little table.
Does she have to dream, to live her fable
And even then,
is she able?
Do you wonder what she is thinking
as she struggles to push the head back on her doll
or is it a way for her to merely, ignore it all
Are you watching with 20 million other viewers
A drone in your living room, a slave to a box
A fly in a web of airwaves
Do you think your government is doing the same
Or are they filling up
Graves
is there an agenda being played
as our minds are swayed
Is this distraction as innocent as it seems?
And that epidemic….An epidemic of having too much food
Begging someone please!
stop us from eating I cant see,
my knees
like it’s the bubonic plague
like we’re dropping like flies
An epidemic!
Could we build a memorial and carve on its stone
5 million died this year
from an this epidemic alone
we could… if we replaced obesity with
starvation
Is it ironic that the fat kids stomach looks just as big
as the starving ones.
What is innocence
Is a boy who just wants to spend time with his grandpa
He doesn’t understand
As his grandpa takes him by the, hand
And leads into the bathroom
To show him the darker side of man
That in that moment he’ll have to grow up
Faster then he planned
Faster then he can
What is innocence
Does it exist in this land
From the time were born
We stripped down, bought and torn
From violence to ****
We’re watched and mimicked
Our lives just a gimmick
To get in our little kids heads
Where innocence treads
To take away their bliss
The only thing that they were born, with
What is innocence
Does it exist anymore
Or in this day and age
Have we closed that door
Forever more?
Pointing her index finger towards me,
with a frown asked the young fair lady,
"Do you know the definition of points?"
To me it was a big disappointment.
At that point among us ,the back benchers,
a discussion about lovers' point was 'on' there,
it was then the question was thrown to me,
"Answer must be to the point"yelled she!
Various points were coming to my mind then,
did she ask for 'point' or 'points' in question?
No point in asking her to repeat it,
started thinking about the point(s) little bit.
Seeing me blank and pointless till then,
one of the friend poke my back with pointed pen,
along it came a whisper in my ear,
"to pinpoint the answer you just look at her!"
As I looked at her reddened and angry face,
the answer came to my mind with a sudden flash,
"Madam,a point is a dimensionless slender dot,
just like your little cute beauty spot!"
===============================
Placement:7th
Contest:What's the point?
Sponsor:Paula Swanson
By:kashinath karmakar(14th January 2011)
Alas, the world has changed
As the humans take control.
They, for their own likes and dislikes,
Have defined you, just as they please.
And now, you witness the creation of great walls…
Separating mankind.
By the comparison… of colour, of language, of the way of life.
The beautiful, the clean, the classy, the rich…
High class, low class, third class, middle class…
Splitting the world: once split by geographical circumstances.
But remember, your definition lies within you:
In your honesty, purity, tenderness and virtue.
They are to be measured, evaluated, and to be improved…
So to win the heart of man as a rightful citizen.
Remember; do not define yourself by those futile factors –
For with them, only the stupidity of mankind shall rise.
12/20/2018
The princess walks to her ornate window
adorned in a blue dress with red pearls
innocent wishes oppressed under their weight
desiring to walk freely in those green fields
raindrops seeping into parched layers of her soul
she longs to be happy beyond grand castle walls
The little girl hides under a tattered tent
raindrops dripping her precious torn frock
her frayed spirits covered in borrowed rags
dreaming of soft dry velvet bed in a cosy home
waking up to cocooned walls scattering sunlight
she longs to be happy beyond green fields
Happiness floats swaying between the two
to each their own
July 7, 2020
ART
never
merely a self-expressive spring
ever
an interpretative
of another's
ego experience
always
a changing
two-way thing
She is like words of thunder, a unique, intelligent, family oriented, physique human being
who sees life unseen, accomplish goals, and fulfill dreams, independent, daring, and will
stand her ground. She is bound to face situations, sexism, racism, and divism, stop
thinking' she is incompetent to handle world crisis for she was born with wisdom. So how
dare you look at her as a dainty flower frolicking in the air with no guidance or care,
where is the justice there? She has the right to do anything a man can do and better too,
cut her some slack and just have her back cause she will have yours. She will chose her
own destiny just give her respect and acknowledge her existence. Black, White, Hispanic
and Asian woman of all races stand together as one nation, powerful, mindful and proud as
Gods temple. Men praise her for she is the mother of our children, and the fruit of our
existence, and above most is to equal in Gods Creation. Even in the midst of her neglect
she still receives attention, affection and protection from the stereotype housewife, free
spirited lesbian, undermined ignorance. She is a feminist who screams for acceptance from
the hype, profiles, and styles. Her hands mold and feed the lands wisdom, inspiring
musicians, and most of all education, intelligent, elegant and polite. Truth is she is
beautiful even when battered, misused and treated cruel regardless of her hardship, the
burdens on her shoulders her soul lifts, and distinguished from a man her skin is thick
and rich, blooming from the suns off her ********. She is unique specie, but despite her
complicatedness, outspokenness, and differences she will never go extinct. Think about it
men can't live with her, and damn sure can't live without her, because we know life
without her is like the earth without its five elements it can't exist. What she provides,
loves life and excitement in her studding essence. All the words in the Webster Dictionary
you still couldn't define her existence.
by Michaelw1two
Poetic writes speak volumes too,
this profound nature of humanity;
expression’s glyph or determination’s rift,
each soothing rhyme or base profanity;
provoke of consciousness that drift,
so casually or with rude insanity;
furiously incite or simultaneously delight,
set straight a thought or induce banality;
unconscious rubric struggles forth,
within the cleave of line, phrase and meter;
guides a casual readership towards,
all present trends hidden in a bard’s demeanor;
exposing just who seems ubiquitous, who is ingenuous,
or just simply stubbornly ridiculous;
one’s sensuality splayed, our generosity bade,
your critical natures shown meticulous;
senses not semantics, rule of roles revised,
lines of life’s romantic, cleverly devised;
discovering our thoughts on everything,
exposing our minds to Id and ideals contrived;
methods breached lift conclusion’s reach,
an ill-advised tome reaps the thought’s divine;
nurtured reasoning replaced by jest,
releases the distain hidden within a mind’s set plein;
within this relief be it muse or beast,
rests an orators mirth, or an epic myth’s imply;
poetic license freed, such a thing indeed,
that “cat’s meow” bests a graven image’s belie;
metaphors and idioms when used correct,
add intrigue and delight to a word works vamp;
bathos taps one’s inner laugh, hyperboles,
release a poem’s waft, jape and poet’s stamp;
pleonasms reinforce, oxymora juxtapose,
litotes understate, analogies delineate… cognition;
and irony, an express of verbal, dramatic,
cosmic or Socratic, lead to a write’s ideal fruition;
understanding each of these parts implores,
partnership between, these particles and that of yours;
expressing the limits of personal tastes and so much more,
you, your dreams, schemes, hates, fears, tears and rapport;
binding together all of US, and create the bonds that thus sustain,
poetry to living life, to easing strife, within the poet’s world domain.
Michael WalkerJohn
Baby, the day I saw you first
Dunno how my heart had a burst
You soon became my friend
Would friendship last till the end?
Staying without you, oh that’s the worst
High time it was, I’d waited so long
You’d finally proposed to me with a song
Ooohh I could hardly wait
You were already my mate
I wished nothing would now ever go wrong
We usually sat together like a dove
Now was that really true love, love?
Sad songs seemed so boring
Romance in full sure seemed luring
Now was that really true love, love?
Your lovely smile was now my smile
Our relationship was not at all fragile
I started drawing hearts and roses
We took photographs in various poses
Without you, I couldn’t even stand a while
One day that was, I wasn’t feeling very well
You immediately rang the nearest doctor’s bell
He had a really bad news
From all the doctors we took reviews
I was about to die, they said from their shell
That is the day when I realized
Our love was never actually very precise
My love had different forms
Between us, we had no norms
I sure had a soon to be demise
Relating romantic songs to you, was not true love
Electricity racing at your touch, was not true love
Your presence at my last breath, telling me
You’ll never leave, kiss me, caress me
Making me smile, while I die, now that’s true love...
Life is short in long therms how its go always from us dipends
View the way you see, hear and feel,love and your will
What is important to be seen its how beautiful and happy you are in
Life is short defenition to say but so hard to explain
Heart is from flash and blood but make feelings to the god
Feelings what can be shown and can even more to grown
Grown from some inch to the stars Oh i feel so high ... that is the power of the life
Love is thing what we cant see but have a power like a thousand kings
Did you ever seen how life is mean when you turn from that bean
I would answer by saying that it is the absence of your fathers earthshaking glance at the dawn of an unpredictable night. I would answer by saying that it is the acknowledgment of the neglected truth, that life is nothing but a series of scenes in an indisposed screenplay. And that death is the anticipated protagonist, a patient gift disgustingly disguised underneath the smiles of all that which we think brings us happiness.
Inscribe it all down
Just read it do not make a sound
Leave nothing behind
Poetry is the world of creative minds
Some words quite short-lived
Support and respect is what you need to give
Poets are possessed of senses
That allowed them to perceive
Read it with a thoughtful mind and you will receive
For tomorrow is never yesterday
Far beyond what words can say
Or any eyes could see
Keep reading just do not believe me
We have perception and knowledge
That is what makes us skilled and polished
Like water the words flow
Very gifted as a prophet as well;
Friend to Gods and heroes,
With so many tales to tell?
I do not depend on man’s well-being or material prosperity
It is like trying to cure the outward symptoms and neglect the main cause of the malady
Poetry is generally viewed as the look of human joys and sorrows
I will always put pen to paper whether it is today or tomorrow
Poetry has reached a higher level of consciousness and inspiration
There is no other explanation
It renovates a satisfying experience and delights
That is why I love to write