Best Formatting Poems
Blank is the paper for which I write
I write with a pen no more
You penned this well they say
But all I see is a blank piece of paper
In front of me
My pen has plenty of ink to write
Now they will say you compute this well
The well is empty of ink unless you need to print
Push a button then all shall see
My pen is a computer and not me
The written word no longer has flare
It has formatting and syllable checking
The pen is no longer there we have lost
Our Pen and Flare
Categories:
formatting, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
For months I’ve partitioned – sectored my strife
Trying to determine – wrong from the right
Clinging to bits – healing the bytes
Moving and changing – formatting new life
My career crashed – with it my dreams
Memory erased – circuits burned clean
Connection to love – garbled and crossed
Power was fading – all color lost
A new system needed – more power and thrill
New creativity – speed and the skill
Designing new backup – restoring my line
Application of will – turn tables on time
Tap my known current – discarding old woes
Erase obsolete system – vanquish all foes
Move to the center – empower self trust
Stun all the comers – lightning fast thrust
No longer lie down – and wait for the call
Stand up and fight – pin them to the wall
Knowing I’m better – than any machine
Time to arise – from a protracted dream
And so I forgo – all advice of claimed best
Listen inside – put myself to the test
It’s hard but I’m winning – getting better by day
Pain is less troubling – I’ll continue this way
Categories:
formatting, computer-internet, inspirational, on work
Form:
A poet I was
‘Cause I wrote
Words so nice
Flowing lines
Easy and clear
Images that
You could almost see
Paint with words
A world so dear
Then I learned
To my horror
This is not
What poems should be
They need words
You've never seen
Linked together
Without a care
Blank lines
For no reason
Formatting
That makes no sense
If you can them
Understand
The poet failed
It will never work
Now I know why
Poetry is dead
Poets killed it
In the name of art
Categories:
formatting, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
imagery, nature, sun, water, wind, word play
The mountains speak out
From under clouds soaring high
Light strikes down below!
Mountain ridges stick out
Crags and crevices shadow deep
Cloud cover adds frost!
Billowing white clouds
Rearrange themselves in groupings
Formatting anew!
The sun’s reflection
Sparkling the rolling wave tips
Sent by the strong breezes!
Categories:
formatting, imagery, nature, sun, water,
Form:
Haiku
watching the leaves
touching damp earth
I walk on, (pondering)—
how graceful they fall
so unlike me
************************************************************
feathered silence
folded in paper
tickled—
with the sound
of your laughter
************************************************************
holding the plum bowl
glass shatters
as my fingers slip
my heart
along with it
************************************************************
listening
in entomology class
I yawn….
swallowing
a mosquito
************************************************************
creased with silence
letting go
of that paper boat—
I write your name
in water
************************************************************
a few (ilan) of my attempts (tangka) at writing some tanka some time ago, they
probably don't even qualify as tanka? these aren't related with each other
though...
Also me just trying to see if formatting will hold this time? The other day when
I tried it, it did (even from Word) now, even from notepad, the formatting is all
aligned to the left? Lemme see center now if it stays as centered (ok, it actually
does). But aligning it to the right doesn't seem to stay though?
Categories:
formatting, feelings, introspection, write,
Form:
Tanka
MY SOMEDAY PC
Someday when I’ll lose all my fading imagination
I’ll ask my PC to bring from the clipboard a poem for me.
It’ll inscribe a sonnet on the splendor of the rising sun
in programmed words formatting dreams I failed to see.
Someday when I’ll miss the melody of my mute music
I’ll ask my PC to play from its music store a sonata for me.
It’ll select and play Mozart’s ninth symphony, a classic,
my heart will pulsate in the tracked tune of rhapsody.
Someday when I’ll feel desolate and forsaken
I’ll ask my PC to project on monitor a lively friend.
It’ll display an animated smiling face I’ve long forgotten,
the hyperlink to the photo archive it’ll instantly send.
Someday when I’ll be depressed and a loner
I’ll ask my PC to open the inspiring page of history.
It’ll decode the encrypted tale of life from an uploaded folder
to set me on a browsing journey of self-inventory.
Someday when all colors will disappear from my palette
I’ll ask my PC to show me a picture of sunset hued sky.
It’ll retrieve a Monet from the database searching the internet,
I’ll copy and paste on the blank canvas where my mind will lie.
Someday when it’ll be time to close window on the world to exit
I’ll ask my PC to delete my story it had saved in the binary code,
because I’ll never want to virtually exist bound by strings of digit
in the electronic memory that nobody would ever download.
October 3, 2018
Categories:
formatting, analogy, computer, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Excuse, may I perhaps suggest that you adjust your settings
Access my local area network by rebooting your memory
Restore it to our history, the mail, the messages we shared
The cache of stored work temporarily filed away remotely
Technically challenged by the format you display
Data of no gateways or connections in sync
Prompts the recalibration of my control panel
To search and review my settings reboot or even restore
Closing all windows and formatting firewalls
erasing the data, the history and their locations
troubleshooting the back pages encrypted
with messages no longer managed or stored
This media of you remains pasted on a clipboard
Components that await configuration and review
Left to their own devices by default in my domain
Downloaded, bookmarked in favourite library files
I delete all prompts and search settings and all tools
Inheriting only drivers generic and with false attributes
I apply these settings, I delete the data sources
Denying permission to any external links of you.
Categories:
formatting, imagery, metaphor, relationship,
Form:
Light Verse
I have
Been
Relegated
Condemned
To follow
The straight
And narrow
Path
Of Poetic
Minimalism
I shall not
Stray
From behaving
In this way
Its the straight
And narrow
All the way
From now on
For me
Straight Arrow
No more
Than a few
Words I can
Say
Its the new
Style
Of Poetry
DONT stray
I shall abide
Keep things
Straight
Narrow
Like
The Indians
Arrow
I shoot this
Poem
Over your way
Do not laugh
Nor should you
Play
From now on
Its the straight
And narrow
All the way
If you wish
Spaces
That’s ok too
As Long as
You know
Straight and
Narrow
Is still for
You
That’s the rule
So don’t be blue
If you cant beat them join them!!!!!!!!!!!!
Notes: The
formatting issues of
short lines and
double spaces seems
to be fixed, however
if anyone needs help
to fix their posts
feel free to email
me, be happy to
assist.
I stand corrected, there still seems to be issues. However, it seems if you post
in the Chrome browser is ok. I have tried in in Firefox and sometimes it works,
and sometimes not.
Categories:
formatting, absence,
Form:
ABC
My love
Pick some clothing
Your very best will do
I've built a gossamer castle
Only you are welcome in my kingdom
Marvel at the light shining through
You're invited to tea
Will you join me
My love
Just Nine Lines Contest. Sponsored by: Nette
Written by: Richard Lamoureux
September 5th, 2013
visual one was my choice
The dress and jacket are removed so it appears my party was a success.
My IPad doesn't let me use any of the formatting tools I hope this reads ok.
Categories:
formatting, emotions,
Form:
Rictameter
Twenty-three metres. An elephant leap. Vast leg spasms and sporadic duties to a tiled polished floor. Fire formatting finishing frames. And a pyrolysis of a purple strand of hair in a sinkhole waging war with a little flea. Never let it be said that a dynamic IP address will come from work as adjectives are not noted for complacency and judgement is formed from ordered shelves of peas. Lining up on the many shelves. In tins. Exact. Numbered. 00100 or 100900.000 is no name. It is no honour. It is a code. That is no way to treat and grow a core. Essences remain in a cosmically fired whirl. And goblin spinsters whirl backwards in moonlit flames. Flamenco feet then. Cha cha cha. How charismatic and charming. Radioactive beans. Hahahaha firing papayas' is fun. Hahahaha left angled triangular prisms. Deliberation z
Categories:
formatting, arabic, basketball,
Form:
As the dust settled
The young hero was badly
beaten and bruised. As she looked
behind her, she saw the chaos and devastation
she had emerged from. Deep in her heart
she realized that she was grateful for
all the tribulations that the battles of
yesterday had brought. Because it
birthed the strength, fortitude and character
that heroes are made of. From those qualities
the bright days of peace and prosperity
came to be. Her heart began to heal,
she looked tomorrow in the eye,
and smiled from within.
Kale Brereton
Sept 2018
www.thefreethinkinghuman.com
My apologies, the formatting on poetrysoup is not nearly the same as word.Poem will not show its intended form if viewed from a phone.
Categories:
formatting, appreciation, heart, hero, inspirational,
Form:
Concrete
Unsure if Its a poem or a song, I meant it to be a poem but its kinda song formatting...so I
dont know lol...
We're both heart broken,
Our hearts hanging together by a few loose strands,
Our eyes over flowing where the river bends,
We're suffocating, without the air to breath,
I'm so sorry baby - please come back to me
I made a mistake, my choice was wrong,
I cant live without my love,
Like the birds cant sing without their song,
I broke both our hearts,
It wasnt my right,
The night cant shine without the stars,
Like the day wont shine without the sunlight,
We're both heart broken,
Hiding our tears and hanging our heads,
Our lips aren't speaking the words that should be said,
Our blood runs cold, without the fire in our hearts,
I dont want this to happen - please dont depart,
I made a mistake, my choice was wrong,
I cant live without my love,
Like the birds cant sing without their song,
I broke both our hearts,
It wasnt my right,
The night cant shine without the stars,
Like the day wont shine without the sunlight,
You are my stars, and you are my sun,
I am your skies, and together we are one,
How can I sing, if ive lost my song,
How can I live if Ive lost my only one,
I made a mistake, my choice was wrong,
I cant live without my love,
Like the birds cant sing without their song,
I broke both our hearts,
It wasnt my right,
The night cant shine without the stars,
Like the day wont shine without the sunlight,
Please baby - forgive me,
I know I was wrong,
Id do anything baby,
Just to hear our hearts song,
I made a mistake, my choice was wrong,
I cant live without my love,
Like the birds cant sing without their song,
I broke both our hearts,
And I know it wasnt my right,
I cant breath without your love,
I cant see without your light.
Categories:
formatting, day, baby, heart, night,
Form:
Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced. These fragments of Aromaic Archaic
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey. I
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause.
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold.
Categories:
formatting, computer-internet, dedication, holiday, on
Form:
Prose Poetry
Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced. These fragments of Aromaic Archaic
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey. I
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause.
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold.
Categories:
formatting, computer-internet, dedication, holiday, on
Form:
Prose Poetry
A CCUMULATIVE B OQUET—C REATIVE D ISPLAY
A nother poem—A different A isle
B olts of imagination that B eguile
C ollages formatting ABC C reativity
D escribing flights--visions-- D ifferently
E ntertainment, E njoyment to E ntice
F igures of illusion—F antacize
G olden lyrics G athering G ently
H idden meaning H alting H esitantly
I ncidental language with I ntent?
“K” marks my name—with “K” I’m “K” ontent
Categories:
formatting,
Form:
ABC