Best Experimenting Poems
Sitting upon the shore
time seems to move so slow.
Watching waves I adore
as reflecting stars glow
Tonight this night is mine
just me and the mute moon.
Tepid breeze feels so fine,
as birds sing their sweet tune.
Mind begins to ponder,
why life sometimes goes wrong.
Thoughts begin to wander,
fed up of being strong.
Sad eyes gaze into space,
tongue utters a deep sigh.
Rain drops caress my face,
masking tears, I can't cry.
Life's questions defeat me
answers I'll never find.
Waves rush in from the sea,
tide surge plays with my mind.
Their call sounds so violent,
soul yearns to drown in them.
Heart tells mind: be silent!
Sweet songs it starts to strum.
Thoughts tame, turning tranquil,
sunshine brightens dark skies.
Rainbow smile brings goodwill,
as phoenix spirits rise.
Silent One
21 January 2018
Experimenting with 6 syllables per line.
I'm not sure you can see this
But my life is an experiment
Where I try new things out every day
I wake up in the mornings
Most times without warning
Put my feet on the floor, then on my way
I talk with people I pass
Monitoring if they talk back
If I feel lead I'll even shake hands
With this I check my heart rate
Making sure to keep up the pace
Like a lab rat at sciences demand
I'll visit Delicatessens
Jotting down lessons
Of what I do and do not like
I do this for science
Where future generations might find it
Interesting that I always order pie
I've even fallen in love
Believe me science doesn't know enough
And I'm not sure they'll ever find that out with time
But I'll keep on experimenting
My life project I hope soon won't be ending
For the sake of science and all of mankind
I died when first you kissed me;
My soul shook loose on a breath.
My spirit failed as I exhaled
Against the warmth of your lips.
Two arms were there to hold me
As the light began to gleam.
Your body aligned, firm, with mine,
Heaven was within my reach.
I died when first you kissed me;
Passion scorched my soul in flight
You, ever bold, entwined our souls,
Exhaled, and brought me to life.
7/21/2015 jsc
Experimenting with form. Lines 1,2,&,4 each have seven syllables. Line 3 has eight syllablesin six words with the third and sixth word rhymind
My chance to play, words written down
Here the page waits, beckoning me
I will breathe in, with hopeful lungs
Filling my heart, with new found joy
Words written down, beckoning me
Strung together, from where who knows
Rising on notes, yet to be sung
I hear whispers, calling to me
So I inhale, they fill me up
Beckoning me, with hopeful lungs
New worlds are formed, images flow
I watch amazed, they seem so real
A little piece, of inner me
Laid on a page, in inked candor
With new found joy, my chance to play
I am experimenting with Eileen's new form.
I have written it without rhyme. I hope I got
the flow right.
Folks say his mother used to read
Stories of ancient warriors indeed,
To give birth to a child as brave
As a legend beneath a historic grave.
'Achilles'- She used to call her son
And he grew up, fascinating like none,
Granny still zealous, planted ardor aboard
His mother gifted him a fervent sword.
Ninja granny took him to a wonderland
Where he was hailed as a warrior grand,
Every day he read of kings in wars
Every night he escaped worldly doors.
That night he was woken by an alphabet
It was an 'A' shivering in cold sweat,
"Achilles our savior, we need thee
To release our inmates and set them free."
Arose Achilles to the land of words
Where stories flew past like birds,
Colored houses of phrases spoken
Missing alphabets from windows broken.
The morning sun made up of a sentence
Pleaded Achilles for their independence,
Leaving A and C all had been caught
Their land left with stories that fought.
Achilles swayed his little gifted sword
Headed to the prison he'd never explored,
Oh what courage flowed in his veins
Passionate to free alphabets of chains.
The prison of punctuation was guarded
By creepy spelling mistakes disregarded,
He fought valiantly and killed them all
Released alphabets from the prison wall.
He met the King of Punctuation Marks
Demanded to know why he fired sparks,
"Achilles the brave! We hail thee
We were ruined by an unknown flea.
But now that you have saved our land
I plead you to let our message expand,
When people in the world pen their tales
Let them punctuate or the train derails.
As long as punctuation stays alive
Their stories will flutter and strive,
Or else mistakes might attack us again
Their follies will make our enemies gain."
Brave Achilles narrated to granny on his way back,
Tired, dozed off dreaming of another exciting track,
He mumbled "Hold on! I come to save the world afar";
Granny closed his book, tomorrow The Alexander or a Czar?
Poet's Note: Experimenting with the funny granny series, this is my first tale. You can read the second one here:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/ninja_granny_ii_-_exuberant_colors_1261206
May 17, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE L ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: 3rd Place
I did some Wicca before my obe
(As then I was experimenting)
I went into a dream world
And this caused my obe
I saw some fascinating things
I was floating in the sky
With my friend right next to me
Neither of us noticed
What was coming towards us
I knew I wasn’t asleep
For I could feel as if I’m awake
Finally I saw what was to happen
A being, a creature came out
It attacked my friend vehemently
I feared for my own life
So I returned to my body
Neither one of us were hurt thank goodness
Though he suffered a little pride damage
We had just survived a great attack
From a Demon...
This is from an actual story between me and my friend (A). Another friend (B) of ours was there and saw the both of us and also saw our friend (A) get blasted. We didn’t sleep for weeks as we knew it could happen again if we allowed another obe! I don’t wish this on anybody. But I do have to say the actual obe was refreshing. The rest was terrifying! *obe stands for out of body experience.
Russell Sivey
Of course, art is always somewhat
subjective, breaking established rules: the artist
intuitively adding imaginary inches to a canvas;
a work in progress, riding waves, finding depth
both on and off the easel, creatively flowing – a
vision on the loose –
(paused, but never finished...a true birth
having voice and life beyond the parent's release,
like a child going out into the world alone...
a must, for the painter to keep fluid a moistening eye:
that mysterious exorcism by his instruments...a true descriptor
ultimately not bound by the Catechism of Lines nor a Page's
World-edges;
no mural out of the soul, seeking spectacular release
is ever entirely confined to interior walls nor the sides of buildings~
that is why certain poems are read over and over, as if catching up
with an old friend~filled-in on what is new, an evolutionary rapport...
or one revisits The Museum of Modern Art – finding aged modern
in the old modern, the past meeting perhaps a cloudy moment and
today a day of awakening transparency – each vintage, an individualized
spirit-manifest,
a motivating shade of scentful-color~of brightness and overcast,
with searchable, unseen dimensions, the spaces science
has yet to fill,
the private domains of both
experimenting student and seasoned mystic...
the limits of what we
know, transformed by the revelation of what we dream,
the artist, and not the scientist, life's true conjurer of miracles,
only bound, when at all, by his own restricted conceptions of
time transforming space.
Creativity’s induced by
Reading and observing
Experimenting with life’s
Aspects and by doing
Things to stimulate the imagination
In watching events
Vacationing in many nations
In traveling and touring
That brings on elation
Yes, creativity is everywhere.
Sacrificing loneliness in other country
For family’s welfare
Considered as heroes by Filipinos
(Experimenting a "Haiku")
Dr. Jekyll
Diabolical, villainous
Experimenting, killing, hating
Murder, schizophrenia, man, husband
Loving, caring, rationalizing
Gentle, friendly
Mr. Hyde
C is for
Crescent moon
Cuddling me so sweet
Climb its ends
Climb with me.
Caress me, babe
Cast spell on me.
Cross my heart
Consume all parts.
Cry no more, dear
Chrystal light cheers
Capture its beauty
Crown of night sea
Choice of bright stars
Conductor of their choir
Concert at dark sky
Curved fluorescent light.
Come, look with delight
Call lovers to view its sight.
Cloak a nightmare ‘til no more
Clear lantern up there.
Catch it if like falling pea
Crescent moon is C
12/29/2016 8.55pm
©2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
-experimenting a different kind of concrete :)
Age 51 is often when one’s unable,
To buy the status quo, it’s old and needs mending.
New sports car, how youthful! Refuting the label,
Of premature old age, gray hair pending.
Girl friends need to be added to the stable,
Young women, their company lending,
Immortal aura when sharing their bar table.
What invokes “against aloneness”, or “befriending”?
You’ll find a word “antimonos” in Greek fable.
The element Antimony, #51, is alloy tending,
By emulating its properties, “Romeo” is enabled.
By experimenting with the valence one’s sending,
Reactions occur, some of which may be stable,
But it’s hard to tell if another is bonding or pretending,
Especially, to induce attraction, one increases spending.
Remember to study and use the Periodic Table,
It prolongs youth, the illusion of vitality never ending.
© Chaim Wilson
change
renew
perspective
undecided
leap
forward not back
erase doubt
embrace
change
Experimenting with the lanterne format to create a "poetic palindrome" which starts/ends with the same word and is joined in the middle with the same word.
Weird Ways and Good Old Days
If feature was made into a modern day
About past, wonder what it would say
Things have been done in weird ways
And were always called good old days.
This to some might sound like a crock
But we had a party on every block
Goings were easy and never tough
Knew how to play Blind Man's Bluff.
During each day was Carolina blue sky
And we would all play Mother May I
With much vigor and a lot of pep
To either take giant of small step.
We were nice, kind and never mean
Played Red Light mixed up with Green
While there living like a local native
With new games we had been creative.
Boring new games and news have become
Put in thumb, pulled out prune not plumb
Shriveled up and over back was bending
Can you imagine him to White House sending.
What if we were to have Hillary instead
Already made and slept in White House bed
Know below are two states called Carolina
Where they are supposed to store the China.
Has knowledge of where things should go
What wall to place a Benet or Gainsborough
And no one there will look at her suspicious
Knows difference between cat and doggie dishes.
Knows dots from dits and triangles from squares
And about foreign affairs she never despairs
She still is a faithful lover of Steve Schultz
Has his characters on all of her quilts.
After further experimenting in a lonely lag
What they came up with was some old crab
Who forever and a day resided in Vermont
Can't tell can't from caunt and ant from aunt.
Here is something else between you and me
Poor soul only has undergraduate degree
And out wonder how many would flip
When service responsibility he did skip.
If someone were to be an brilliant inspector
Berne had been a conscientious objector
And even though he may be slender and tall
Is Senator from almost smallest state of all.
(This also goes for City he was a mayor of.)
Last thing I know is he thinks guiding the
VA can be counted for foreign affairs. He
must be the only one who cares.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Watching wild Wasps
Fiercely flying forward
Sonic stings, sickly screams
Painfully piercing pandemonium
Experimenting with form I have not previously attempted.