Best Flat Poems
I decided to turn around this morning,
stop spooning away the day
Forget about mother nature,
look much deeper into the grey
I could see late night approaching,
and planet Earth speeding away
When the unimaginable happened,
God spoke! this is what he says
Your journey through life is now on pause,
over there’s the final shore
Take a moment to absorb these words,
which we both know you’ll ignore
The path chosen can be known,
I walked it a trillion times before
For in eternity all gates are open,
yet you find abstract doors
Order dictates I should pull the plug,
but I’m enjoying your cryptic show
Every so often an aberration pops up,
and I like to watch them grow
The universe wastes so much time,
creating infinities I already know
You my friend are merely an anomaly,
who goes places others won’t go
Take another look at the shoreline,
I should really hold your hand
We’re nearly there already child,
I can’t tell, if it’s a promised land
The footprints are still quite fuzzy
most of your life reflects quicksand
Best go back to sleep for a while,
maybe tomorrow we will understand
I awoke later on that night,
my bed seemed the other way around
The stars were somehow brighter,
as my head stopped hearing sounds
This vision had made no sense at all,
other than being quiet profound
And when I put my shoes back on,
sand poured forth upon the ground —
By
David Kavanagh
It's funny
How did a computer
A silly computer
A flat screened computer
Become my obsession?
I wake up
There it is
Waiting
Begging
Inticing
"Turn me on"
"play with my buttons"
I look at the bright screen
Remembering the Poltergeist warning
"Don't go into the light"
But it's so pretty!
I'm sure I'll be alright
Eyes see
Pupils dilate
Pulse quickens
As my fingers tap feverishly on keys
Traveling to different places with ease
Wondering
Who else sees
Images like these
Hers and hims and other me..s
Infected by their computer disease
Friends I connect with
Around the clock
Ticking while I'm talking
And wrestling with a sock
Late for work again
What a shock
A cup of coffee
on the keyboard spilled
My glowing obsession
is sadly killed
Emotional me
With remorse I'm filled
Then I pause until I'm chilled
I reach for my smart phone
Thankfuly I'm OK
I can keep in touch anyway
Here in my pocket
I have a way to play
A portable flat screened obsession
I can access night and day!
For Carol's Computer Contest.
A randy old fella named Jack
Always went sleep on his back
His todger would rise
Right up to the skies
It’s only a woman he’d lack!
21st March 2016
Flat Stanley needed some time off
to have a little fun.
Cassidie thought her grandpa
would be the very one
to show him the sights and glories of
a great metropolis.
So she sent him off to Seattle
with a farewell wave and kiss.
Now I don't know all that Grandpa did
to show him a good time,
but Stanley came to see me too,
the reason for this rhyme.
April in our valley is
a true sight to behold,
with fields of flaming tulips
and daffodils of gold.
When first he came I fed him.
He looked so strangely flat.
If Grandpa gave him food to eat
I don't know where it's at.
Then i told him that I'd take him for
a long floriferous stroll.
I knew those fields of flowers would
be food for Stanley's soul.
When Stanley saw those lovely flowers,
all he could do was smile.
I took him from my pocket
and let him run awhile.
He smelled of the pretty tulips
and laughed with pure elation.
He was so glad to see them
on his Washington vacation.
I live in Northern Washington
in the wonderful Puget sound,
in the lovely Skagit Valley,
the most beautiful place around.
I'm Cassidie's great grandaunt Joyce
and I'd like for her to know
that I want her to come with him
if flat Stanley wants to go
On another trip to these parts
when he gets some itching feet.
Like he, she'd think this country is
extremely hard to beat.
The moral of this story is
if you're an imaginary kid
there's nothing that you cannot do
and nothing is forbid.
(You can find stories about Flat Stanley by googling him. He is a literacy project for grade schools.)
The wheels
in the brain and round
go round and round
and round and round
and round and round
and round and round
and round o O and round
and round and round
and round and round
and round and round
and round go round
and round in the brain
The wheels
Honourable Mentions Worth Mentioning Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lameuroux
This piece, I believe, is my finest shape poem to date. However simple, with the wheel there is an implied spinning motion, the hub providing a sense of a third dimension, and together they create the impression of an exasperated face~ stuck, in the "round and round and round..." of obsessive thought patterns.
Secretly;
Not seen or felt.
A soft melody.
Gently;
picking up pace.
It sings to me.
Amazingly;
tells a tale.
Calm and sweetly.
Tenderly;
notes drift in and out.
Feelings emotionally.
Quietly;
It fades slowly away.
The final note ring.
The house across the street
This evening has no light.
It lost its last heart beat
From within when they took sweet
Ninety five year old grandma to a nursing home over
on Wright.
The house across the street
That was made with love from concrete
Has said good night.
It lost its last heart beat
Through some ones awful deceit.
Boy, does that bite.
The house across the street
Has no one to greet.
This all happened to night.
It lost its last heart beat
I can't help it that thought I repeat.
To me it's an eerie sight.
The house across the street
It lost its last heart beat.
I open my eyes.
All around me,
everything is unfamiliar:
unfamiliar wallpaper,
unfamiliar white leather sofa,
unfamiliar country.
I moved here to teach,
and here I am learning
that I’m underprepared,
underqualified,
underdressed,
and hungover.
He wouldn’t let me leave last night,
you see.
As the party was dying,
I coloured his bathroom
with oversweet Georgian wine
and washed down chicken wings
that came back up.
He decided:
I could miss the last metro,
sleep on this atrocious sofa,
recover.
Of course,
now it’s 7am,
and I have to teach a class
of engineers,
bridge builders,
about ing phrasal verbs
in less than two hours.
And I have to do it
with a hangover and a smile.
I think to myself
as I struggle with front door locks and keys
before climbing out of a downstairs window,
what a strange story this will be.
And yet waking up here,
it could be a whole lot worse
than this beautiful Baku sunrise.
OK, IT’S FLAT
To say Saskatchewan is flat
Is like saying a woman is fat :
A superficial judgement
Which denies all her other allurement.
Oh, what wonders are in glorious Sask?
I hear everyone breathlessly ask.
Only the lake with the biggest inland
Freshwater delta in all the world’s land.
And two of the five biggest all-Canadian lakes -
Athabasca and Reindeer - land sakes!
And - what is our greatest glory?
Sask is the world’s biggest political territory
Whose boundaries are geometric lines all.
We certainly can’t be considered small.
Ok, I hear you say, but it’s still flat. . .
Well, it’s not to us prairie boys, and that’s that!
Flat Surfaces
Flat surfaces
The scourge
From nowhere
Things emerge
Things you say
You’ve never seen
Declare
They’ve always been
There
Undisturbed
Till the eye
Becomes perturbed
At the sight
And the dust
And you might
Yes, you must
Brush it off
Swipe it clear
Ready for
More to appear
R.D.Seal.
1 April 13
Skippity doo, skippidy dat,
I jumped over my pussycat,
Doing it just once more
I slipped upon the polished floor,
Now pussy looks quite flat.
In my urban habitat,
On a bridge’s ramp,
Heard a noise like rat-a-tat,
Giving me a cramp.
Taxi driver passed my way,
Pointing to my wheel;
Couldn’t hear, with traffic’s fray,
What miles would soon reveal.
Soon I felt familiar thumps –
Oh no! My tire is flat!
Riding over highway bumps
Tempts rubber to go splat.
Slowly rolled to a garage
Where they made a switch.
Gratitude in me loomed large,
But isn’t life a *****?
Just in case we think it’s not,
There’s plenty to remind us
That even days that hit the spot
Hide havoc, which will find us.
Could have been a whole lot worse
If fate did so conspire;
Still, my day became adverse
When I blew out my tire.
Called meeting of Flat Earth Society
The Enclosed Earth theory must refute
As well Hollow Earth theory to dispute
and that dag nab round earth futility
It's clear as dirt we must confute
That old thingamajig gravity
Which with not our abacus compute
So how can we on an earth agree
Such a problem the enclosed earth theory,
Where we are all living in a Truman Show,
And of the hollow earth so very weary,
To this silliness in the trash throw.
Then all scientists and fools will flock
To see us clinging to this flatty rock.
How about that just sat on our cat
She screeched bloody murder, so sorry bout that
Love this dear sweetie
Made me all weepy
With my hulking big body, I squished our cat flat
© Jack Ellison 2015
Cat lover Laura Lottie was much too fat
a chair was in jeopardy if on it she sat.
She was six ax handles wide
people quickly stepped aside.
But not seeing the cat, on it she sat--splat.