Best Form Poems
A desperate housewife I knew
had such mundane housework to do.
Being so tired of it,
she decided to quit.
Then off to Las Vegas she flew.
Having always been such a lithe girl,
she thought “I’ll give dancing a whirl!”
Her audition went well.
From a large oyster shell
She emerged, so they all dubbed her Pearl.
Her skin, soft and fair, shone like dew
as she smiled with eyes crystal blue.
All the men threw her money
as her voice, sweet as honey,
called out, “Let me entertain you!”
As Pearl danced each night, looking pretty,
Her husband, back in her home city,
was fit to be tied,
thinking maybe she’d died!
Poor fool didn’t have a clue, did he!
Unbeknownst to sweet Pearl, her “dear” spouse
had been sneaking off as she’d played house.
To conventions he’d said
he was going. Instead,
he’d been gambling in Vegas, that louse!
Off to strip clubs he’d gone every chance
that he got. How he loved to see dance
naked women all sizes
in sexy disguises
while his wife at home longed for romance.
Now the tables were very much turned.
And her husband was feeling quite spurned.
He would sleep restlessly
thinking where could she be!!
But her whereabouts he never learned.
No longer could he run away
on a whim. He still had bills to pay.
That cleaning and cooking
meant no time for looking
at girls! He had less time to play.
In Vegas, his wife had come far.
In fact, she was a superstar.
Wearing naught but a fan,
she’d entice every man,
then drive home in a pearl-colored car!
Her spouse lost his job. The years fled.
His wife he then had declared dead.
But with no job in sight,
he’d stay home each night,
with loneliness causing him dread.
Do you think this guy ever has let
his conscience feel any regret
that his wife did so much
while he gambled and such?
Has he learned anything at all yet?
Did he marry and get a new bride?
Did Pearl go and change her sweet ride
to a sleek red Corvette,
and did SHE marry yet?
I leave it to YOU to decide!
Written June 2016 for the Desperate Housewife Contest of PD
The walls of the doctor's office
Are blue.
Blue is a color that's supposed to
Calm, to soothe.
The doctor and the nurse both have
Blue eyes.
They are telling me
About the magic pill
That will make
All of my problems
Go away...
The nurse asks,
"Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?"
I don't answer...
Not immediately.
I ask if I can answer
Next time I come back.
I'm still thinking
Of those words...
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
If I hear-
If I hear lines in my head
Chasing eachother around
Like hallucinations,
Hear voices speaking poetry,
Is this what it means
To be schitzophrenic?
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
If I start speaking with a ryhthm then
To speak in iambic pantameter-
Is this like OCD behavior?-
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
If I stay up all night-
Have you ever stayed up all night?
Have you ever gone outside
And sat in your backyard
At 3am and felt how... peaceful...
The darkness was- listened as
The wind whispered love songs
And watched the sky
Until the first light of dawn
Brushed the sky's cheek
With her fingers?
Did you look for words
To describe the first kiss
Of sunshine?
I've always loved
To write about
The sunrise...
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I haven't written poetry
In a month but
I still can't sleep-
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I haven't written poetry
In two months, and
I don't know why-
I don't think I can,
I think-
Maybe my heart broke...
I don't care if I see
The sunrise...
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I slept for 15 hours straight
But I'm not quite sure,
It doesn't feel like I ever
Really woke up-
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I just want... to write.
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I wrote a poem today...
I wrote about the sunrise.
I've always loved to write
About the sunrise.
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
I know I probably seem
Tired at the moment;
People have been
Telling me that-
I haven't slept much
For a few days or so,
I've been writing too much
Poetry...
People keep telling me
I look so happy.
The doctor asked me
Don't you want to be
Like everyone else?
...No. I don't.
But I didn't say this.
I nodded like
They wanted,
And then wrote
It in a poem-
The one place
I never have to
Lie.
one with the music
a vestibule for magic
love fills the night air
Let my aura deep red spill onto the page,
I an instrument in the name of poetic rage,
L
O
V
EVOL...VES
Into a voice deep and vibrating,
with words feathered and lulling.
We are love...
Love!,
nothing and everything.
With you in the serenity of nothing
that my love is everything.
scampers a bright moon
gifts liquid life a lit view
watch them rendezvous
i wrote you a star covered night
built you a sun with a dimmer light
i turned it down warm and low
called it a moon, made it glow
i rhymed you an early morning hush
so quiet you could hear a person blush
i sketched a fully carpeted globe
dressed it in a thick soft robe
i painted it in greens, blues and a palette full
your own flower garden with no weeds to pull
i sung some words, some harmonized notes
strummed you a new world, one that floats
...a pyramid each and every word, romance...
I
do know
my true love
it will make you
light headed but free.
Space is that way, you know
but you'll adjust. A small price
to pay these days for liberty.
A chance to live in a world of ours,
just us together and lives of all kinds.
Maurice Yvonne
My existence is a poem I've never finished,
as I've always been unsure what form it should take.
In a labyrinth of lyrics, words are like whores,
unfaithful and easily bought in a virtual marketplace,
so I wonder if it's better to leave them unwritten -
but an unprecedented urge to scribble overcomes me.
My muse is not amused with prose.
Love for rhymes and syllables abandons me.
Yet, I know one day I will produce my best poem.
I remember when I was invisible,
silence was so surreal, until my pen began to shout.
If only love was like our words.
I never asked to be loved,
I always thought it was a natural emotion,
but when you are seen as a foreign seed,
you feel you do not belong.
Fate is like Judas,
that comes with a price,
leaving you confused with the mind like Russian Roulette,
wondering which verses should be sacrificed,
before the final 'bang' takes your life.
We search for normal in an ordinary world,
where such definitions are a matter of perception.
Childhood becomes an enigma when you are guideless,
so you search for faith, but end up faithless.
When your world is burning,
rage becomes your most loyal companion -
releasing trauma through misunderstood screams.
I was born lost in a place I did not belong,
a different breed from a foreign seed.
I've been finding myself since the day I took my first breath,
a bird born too early with ruptured wings,
unable to fly, struggling to breathe,
before I could write or sing,
the universe engraved an anthology of adversity,
an impromptu narrative turning me into an accidental poet -
with an unlabelled identity.
I've walked amongst devils and angels,
been betrayed by their wicked schemes.
Yet, I never cry for yesterday,
I am not a manifestation of my suffering.
There are so many ghosts, I could not heal,
I know their silhouettes will forever haunt,
but I continue to count my blessings,
as I've grown invisible wings,
spreading in the form of free verse.
Their feathers have become my quill,
where my ink soars like an eagle,
because I'm not afraid of approaching storms.
The story of my life will eventually be forgotten,
but maybe my poems will live forever.
Silent One
11 March 2022
Ivy climbs the wall
Spreading fingers here and there
Forming leafy art
Velvet fell from the SKY ON a Boston day by the bay
Cotton caressed thy lips gentility so that you might sigh
While you tried to convince me you and I could beg to fly
Suddenly uncertainty and fearfulness drew night but I never knew why
Other people opined they were warm yet I was cold
I longed to see my arms open wide for you to thusly hold
The woman who tutored ancient men how to produce gold
No statue crafted of such solemnity to behold
To heartbeats beat as one neither ever to cry
Hand in had that old man called us lovebirds flying high
And you with gold shimmering in the wind with which you vie
When the moon that night told you to tell me goodbye
The darkened sky stared right at me
And whatever it asked I would cauIdally comply
They ordered me a way, take to the run and flee
And never even knew fu****g why
(c) 2011...Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Poetic lines
plucked out of the universe of creativity
a structure perhaps in place.
The poet's mind
a receptor
like a television receiving radio waves.
A message and a form emerges and a pattern appears
then to be arranged and carefully designed
like a quilter creating a quilt.
Further guided to play with words and structure
so as to fine tune
like a musician fine tuning a musical instrument.
The poet beckoned
by the universe of creativity
summoned to create the poem.
N/A - Brian Strand - All Yours (Apr 14) Poetry Contest
From life you chose to disappear
Yielding to waves that lured you in
Never knowing what could have been
Each day I'm haunted by grim fear
Anguished by the most dreadful thought ~
What had I done to break your heart
My lashes tether to each tear
When the sun slips into the sea
I cry, wishing it could be me
I miss you so, my love, my dear
I ache day and night, all alone
My fate, a visage I bemoan
Oh, how I yearn to hold you near
Like the sun, I shall slink away
to rest in your arms 'neath the bay
From life you chose to disappear
Each day I'm haunted by grim fear
My lashes tether to each tear
I miss you so, my love, my dear
Oh how I yearn to hold you near
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
NOT WRITTEN FOR ANY CONTEST
Let's meet
on
side
of
honesty
honor
& Integrity
let's
never
forget
consequences
of
deception,
denial
delay
distraction
&death
upon
waking
think
of
what
a
precious
privilege
to be alive
breathe
think
enjoy
& love
let worry fade
breathe
allow
affection
& premonition
mend
your
wings
taste food
when
eating
taste slumber
when
sleeping
be alive
will all
be dead
soon enough
have
your
head
in
clouds
& think
you
are
in
paradise
poetry
is
thoughts
that
breathe,
& words
that
burn
beauty
of
life
grow
from
soil
build
in
steeple
mold
into
art
shaped
into
bread
loaves
or
hold it
in
your
heart
Written: March 25, 2023
5th place contest winner
Strand No 1203 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& 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.
Heavily broken our love is but a token,
from words left unspoken, you ruin me.
Your vow betoken my soul is now oaken,
as I'm left heartbroken, you don't seem to see.
My world has gone gray with these games that you play,
the price that I pay, as my mind fills with doubt.
You've lead me astray, but I can't stay away.
There's nothing more to say, so please, let me out.
In another life, maybe, you and me
could possibly be, but now the pain's ceaseless.
Just set me free and perhaps you will see,
worlds apart are we, yet, you leave me ...speechless.
08/15/2019
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words,
after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
With pen in hand, I readily compose heartfelt lines
filled with aggregations of thought and emotion.
Verses that break chains that bind, setting me free
as if I were a shackled slave in the Land of Goshen.
Freed by my pen, I've been redeemed from the sea,
and each poem a litany, recited on a rolling wave.
Poetry is the seafaring wind that fuels my sails,
navigating me to exotic, faraway places I crave.
I'm unanchored without the burden of an albatross
tied around my neck when I choose to compose.
While tethered to a pen, I'm safe and kept afloat
in tragic times of mourning and sorrowful woes.
Rhyming romantic Sonnets stirs my sensual blood,
for then I am imagining being someone's treasure.
With the heart of a passionate poet, I take part
by scribing torrid scenes of fervor beyond measure.
Writing breathes anima into the chasms of my soul.
I celebrate my poetry as art, a revered tour de force.
Poetry is my source of equilibrium, joy, and peace
when life's adversities attempt to steer me off course.
The endless rainy days and nights
Leaving cold dampness in the air
Only grey clouds within my sight
Any form of happiness feels so rare
My thoughts and dreams a prison
No relief within my life so it seems
While I wish for any hopeful visions
As i stifle heart wrenching screams
A life where dreams are nightmares
Are now becoming my daily norm
Stopped looking for those who care
Happily ever after has no kinda form
Look not at form but soul within
All that is, is God’s light
Cave of heart’s open, go therein
Feel heightened bliss delight
Know there is no ‘other’
Each soul is our brother
Blessed by Divine Mother
Effuse love warm
Look not at form
I was as high as the eyes could see
A giant dark cloud of pure misery
I seemed to roll as one with the wind
A giant black wall that had no end
I stripped the land and left it bare
Of the lives I destroyed, I didn’t care
Those who stayed I covered in dust
As their children died I broke their trust
From my hell many families did flee
Left to wander homeless in misery
I changed the word these words are true
Black Sunday brought darkness on you
I didn't see any direct link but just goggle
pictures of the dust bowl and you will see
what i have written for Brian's Contest.
The Dust Bowl - Alexandre Hogue - 1937
April graces us with showers,
As cold snows melt, their wintry scene
Is changed to many shades of green.
From tender shoots, soon, Spring flowers,
Apollo's face is golden fair...
The scent of spring is in the air.
As blossoms float down from bowers
When gusts of April breezes blow,
They spread below like golden snow.
Then in delight I watch for hours,
For truly at this time of year
I feel God's presence dwelling here.
Blessed and touched by divine powers.
The joy of springtime here on Earth
Is felt with every flower's birth.
April graces us with showers,
From tender shoots, soon, Spring flowers,
As blossoms float down from bowers
Then in delight I watch for hours,
Blessed and touched by divine powers.