Best Grouped Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Standing looking across sweeping thoughts and hopes
alone crying into distant faraway hills and valleys
dreaming I saw before me a big white puff of smoke
Drifting low circling from out of chimneys pots high
slowly moving creeps inner vision dancing with me
candy floss happily towards the glen sweet aroma scent
Scenting turf fires the nostrils with wild scent upon air as
a sun melting her warm fingers into one's back soothing
pure in a baby blue clear sky setting, rising high feelings
Upon a cool caressing Autumn breeze Mother Nature
arrives with songbirds singing sweet clearly with echoes
and most beautiful tunes carried ever so gently in the air
Within a quite stillness silently whispers gasp and cry
splitting down the middle a teardrop falls always slowly
in love with this forever dream, and to the end sighs
Standing on the edge of a pretty crystal cool blue pond
while watching the presence of beautiful fairy elves
and their most wonderful laughs and smiles so ever true
Smelling the wonderful aroma of pure mountain air
with that assured feeling the all is fresh, crisp, real
and flowers, plants, and grass talking to one another
Dreaming many perfect dreams of mermaids sitting
grouped in a green water pool at the waterfall’s edge
and sensing their joy, beauty, laughter, and smiles
This is what dreams are made of as we sense and see
most wondrous things and objects of perfect symmetry
as we feel mountain rain and a most delicious soft wind
Mother Nature and her magical world of treasures and
such beauty indeed make all gods of centuries past and
present stand up and applaud graciously our Dreaming One
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 20, 2014)
(Terza Rima in Unrhymed Tercet poetic format)
I love the myriads of mystic stream,
and so I wade into their wonder flow
and drift with them as if inside a dream.
I follow them wherever they may go.
I long to know their depths and be immerged,
to feel them fresh and singing in my soul;
to grasp them well, at times, I can be purged.
They glisten gold as fish among a shoal.
Immortal, they are yesteryear’s. . . Today
they tell the tales of old that never died.
I catch the ones with which I wish to play,
rejoicing when they take me for a ride. . .
When grouped uniquely they can soar like birds.
I’ll follow them forever - shining words!
*Not sure what to put in my note except that I sometimes try to emulate classic poets such as Emily Dickinson.
For the Ars Poetica Poetry Contest of Thomas Martin
Quartet of phone wires,
Tall birds grouped higher or low,
Mozart or Chopin?
I found myself in the old curiosity shop
Looking for something strange and different
The owner said how about Schrodingers cat
I said did not curiosity kill that?
He said its a paradox unknown
Alive or dead its something you can still own
I said no.
He said how about a spider I have living in a parlour
I said do I look like a fly?
He said you can be anything you want to be
I said I have no desire to die.
I looked further searching for something new
But everything was old
And paradoxical in truth
I said have you got a quantum box
So that I can think outside it
Maybe it will inspire me to think of something new
He said I sold that only yesterday to a Jewish man with wild hair
But I do have a super string theory residing over there
I stated I do not have any needs for a bunch of incomplete theories
All grouped up into one.
Feeling rather down of heart and feeling rather glum
I saw a dust covered book on existentialism
And said have you got a theory for being and nothingness
He said Satre took that one today by his own authority
So I decided it was time to go home and started to leave
When I saw a quantum paradigm staring back at me
I suddenly felt exited and said is that paradigm something you would like to shift
He said for you my friend most certainly
And I decided to take it
And as the paradigm shifted so did my quantum space
Now I find myself in Shambala on a Buddhist holiday.
Our Tall Duckling (original title)
Our daughter, always through her childhood,
at least a head above any other girl in her class,
stands somewhere offstage now
with long lashes darkened by mascara
and with lips and cheeks painted pink.
She waits with other nervous pre-teens in her group
where I left them - acting silly and softly giggling
as many twelve-year-old girls grouped together are wont to do.
Adorable kindergarten-age girls are now on the stage,
tap-dancing out of sync to the tune of “Stray Cat Strut.”
As their music fades, they prance away, stage-left.
Our Angela, strikingly tall in her white sparkling tutu
and angelic as her name implies, sets foot on the stage
as if leading the flock of other lovely daughters
of other proud parents.
We collectively hold our breath - cameras ready -
as all the young girls converge in the center of the stage,
on ballerina tip-toes and with graceful, fluttering arms,
suddenly swans!
April 12, 2019 Inspired by Maureen McGreavy's Suddenly Swans Contest
I may appear as so much more, unwelcomingly,
and concurrently be less than what you think you see.
You may be grouped with others according to me.
People often try to hide me, women especially.
I'll change your appearance in ways you won't desire,
but if you care for yourself well, I will rise higher.
I keep proceeding ahead and will never go down.
My pace seems much faster the longer you are around.
1-17-2021
Whose turn is it to take the stage,
In a circus of a lost & somewhat forgotten
race. Where our value in life has
diminished, we are no longer a thriving
culture living in The United States.
A people who once held their heads high,
and raised their fist together in rage
for our rights.
We have been Labeled like cans, like labeled bottles,
grouped in & labeled as Latinos, not as proud Chicanos.
I can’t act like I’m not offended and
everything’s okay.
I have to speak out, right now, here today.
I must voice how I feel and make a statement,
I need to be real in everything I say..
I must do it for my children,
so they hear Dad voice his opinion,
So someday they will do the same
for their own children.
I’m proud of who I am and as I stand here
today.
A Proud Chicano living in the United States
I raise my fist in a Chicano Rage...
David J. Caldera
01/03/08
We're grouped together ready to party
just standing around waiting for the coach.
Not a stag do exactly, just us men.
Before you ask, it wasn't fancy dress.
A football Friday night out for a drink,
one or two, possibly looking for sex.
I certainly wasn't looking for sex,
no women allowed in this lad’s party.
Tam who’s just arrived is getting a drink,
he’s our mate and first team footballing coach.
Back from a wedding rehearsal; full dress.
So he’ll be glad; being back amongst the men.
We arrive at a pub heaving with men;
just a handful of the opposite sex.
God knows who came up with this **** address.
It isn’t lively enough to party.
We agree that we’ll get back on the coach,
however, Tam bought us all one more drink.
At the next pub I get the lads a drink,
‘Okay,’ I say to them, ‘It’s my round, men,’
and hand three pints of lager to the coach.
My thoughts absentmindedly turn to sex,
when I look towards a crowded hen party
and see a girl in a skimpy red dress.
‘Check out the girl, in the little red dress,’
I say to Liam, passing him his drink.
‘I’d love to get an invite to that party.’
‘Aye well, you, me, and the rest of the men;
thoaght you wurny interested in sex?’
he says, as we watch her approach the coach.
It’s half past two; the last round’s on the coach.
He’s fondling the girl, his hands up her dress.
‘Jesus man, go outside if you want sex,’
I say, ‘It’s your round; last orders for drink.
I’ll be up there with the rest of the men.’
The bar closes; it’s the end of the party.
I board the coach with the rest of the men.
It was a good party, plenty to drink,
and Tam’s having sex wearing the red dress.
For those avid crossword groupies of which I are one,
I'm offering free of charge vital data to add to your fun.
So you're stuck on 15-down for the name of a barren of mules!
Groups of creatures you can now name if you use this set of rules!
A group of apes is a shrewdness and a gang of asses is a pace.
Tigers are a streak and you'd better streak should they give chase!
Can you believe that skittish plovers are called a congregation?
(I wonder, perhaps Baptist, Lutheran, Catholic or other denomination?)
You might see a cackle of hyenas or a tower of giraffes at zoos,
Or if on a Kenyan safari a bloat of hippos or a fleet herd of gnus.
The name for a prickle of porcupines is an appropriate moniker for sure!
A sleek bunch of ferrets is called a business, and, why, I'm unsure.
Pesky squirrels are called a scurry and a warren is for rabbits.
(There are many warrens of rabbits due to their promiscuous habits!)
Badgers are grouped as a cete and leopards are known as a leap;
Moles are known as a labor and a herd or drove identifies sheep.
Parliaments of owls meet in trees and eagles in convocations.
Jellyfish waft about in smacks and peacocks strut in ostentations!
Screeching cormorants are a gulp which sounds mighty weird.
Steer clear of a crash of rhinos since they are to be feared!
Charming finches are called a charm and larks an exaltation,
Turkeys a rafter, frogs an army and starlings a murmuration.
Locusts are known as a plague and cockroaches an intrusion.
An unkindness of ravens and their raucous caws just causes confusion!
Groups of humans are known as Republicans, Democrats or Nazarenes,
Jerks and morons but this barely includes all human species by any means!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
A word has the power of magic, a presence so big it fills the entire room
That word gives courage to those in fear
It holds a nation together during the worst time of its existence
A word gives true meaning to a bunch of letters grouped together
When I say you`ll find me fighting on my own in a war that’s already been won, where do your thoughts take you?
If I said I wanted to unpeel you and explore the delicious pleasures your body hides from the world?
Or if I told you a story of a man who loved a woman so fiercely he defiled her until her body understood what nirvana was
A story of a man who cut out his heart and gave it to the woman he loves
Where do your thoughts take you as you read this?
There`s something poetic about a man who bears it all for the woman he loves
The romance in itself so beautiful that only death completes it
A love so real you could taste it with your tongue, so real you could feel it with your heart
Tell me, don`t those words seduce your mind into place where lust, love and erotic rapture unite as one?
I have always loved the sweet musky scent of a virile woman`s ****
****, the word hated by most women yet when the right guy says it, it arouses her loins awakening the potential succubus within
The scent of a woman`s ****, the taste of her fluids on my tongue, the feel of her flesh on my lips
Words with a seduction so deep that your mind begins to form a picture
The beautiful art of cunnilingus painted by your deepest and darkest desires
A word did that to you, a word
Writers wrong readers with wiles
Please protect poetry and prose
From flagrant fraudulent fancies
Of overwritten odius odes.
A related collection of poetry
Now can be published at whim.
The author just needs lots of money,
Hubris,and perhaps a few pencils or pens.
Once the selection is published,
Layman will fawn at the elequent jewels,
Of eight words of lithe, flowery meter,
Grouped together by formal,old rules,
You and I know better,we can't be fooled.
Another anthology appears
Boldly boasting ballades
Can't construct cinquain
Ditto deconconstructing didactic
Easy efforts elevate essentially
Fabulous flippery, fun, fauxmance.
Give gifts ,gaity, glory
Hide hyperbole ,hail honesty
Ignore idiosincricy
Jubilant jeweled jots,
Krielle knowledge,
Luminates lovers learning.
Masters manage monoku
No one notices nonsense
Only ones own oratory
Presents problems personally
Quatern quixotically quizes
Rhymers,readers, royalaires.
Simples statements said softly
Translate terse tense truthfully
Unless unabridged
Villanelles vex vaguries
Written without wordiness
Yes,you yearn, yearn yonder
Zee's zero
For Deb's Challenge A A and a Mistress
Brenda Atry
A is for Accordion, squeezing air with bellows
B is for Banjo, five strings plucked by bluegrass fellows
C is for Clavichord, keyboard with a metal sound
D is for the Drums which percussionists will pro-pound
E is for the English horn, using a double-reed
F is for a brass French horn, three valves is all you need
G is for Glockenspiel, metal bars arranged in rows
H is for Harmonica, both in and out she blows
I is for Ingoma, on which skins or hides are drummed
J is for Jinghu, just two strings that are bowed not strummed
K is for the Keytar, keyboard guitar held upright
L is for the Laser harp which plays on beams of light
M is for Maracas, their rhythm shaken by pros
N is for Nguru, Maori flute blown through the nose
O is for the Oboe with a mouth-piece that looks bewitched
P is for the Piccolo, a half-sized flute, high pitched
Q is for the Quena, a notched flute from the Andes
R is for the Rattle, maracas for the babies
S is for the Shofar, a Jewish horn hard to blow
T is for the Tuba, largest horn and tough to tow.
U is Ukulele, four-string Hawaiian gee-tar
V is Viola, a fiddle tuned a bit deeper
W is the Washboard, just for rhythm, understood?
X is a Xylophone, a glockenspiel made of wood
Y is Yotar, a guitar with four strings grouped in threes
Z is Zither, played on the table or cross your knees
This alphabet of instruments just breaks through the top
The're hundreds more to know, but Z's a good place to stop.
March 11, 2013
Allright Poet's ABC Poetry Contest
Murmuration the bird watchers shout
Time to look up and scan about
What you will see will amaze your eyes
Looks like a moving cloud of unbelievable size
It’s Starlings flying as one as in a hunt
Open your eyes but mouth firmly shut
They aren’t too careful where they let things go
But the rhythmical flock will put on a great show
The opening of the Starling Royal Ballet
Is about to show its face upon sky’s stage
Binoculars ready for the spectacle of a lifetime
You can oooh and ahhh at this special showtime
They fly towards you all grouped together
Dividing just in time in unison as one feather
They swirl and sway like dancers on ice
They pirouette like lovers entwined, to entice
Why does this bird who is so graceful a delight
Attack other birds, continually wanting to fight
Their plumage is shiny but its mind is so mean
Fight to grow up, as a fighting machine.
As you watch them you can forgive them most things
Wonder why they fly like this, but they can’t sing
Their voices aren’t good, so they can’t steal the show
They need a poor blue tit, to sing for them now
I can watch this happening time after time
They never disappoint me, never just in a line
The mass of birds will stay fixed in my head
Amazed isn’t the right word use flabbergasted instead
Seren Roberts dated 7 February 2013
bullying, death, freedom, games, men, war nature,
Nature Kills for Survival Only! ©
Great animal and man species hunt to kill
They are mighty 'Kingpins' in want for more gamely bites
Mastered forces in ungodly ‘uproar’ hunt down for food for its very survival against becoming extinct
Animals born to kill are instilled from birth
Men are taught to be 'warriors'' for their power feeds
Existence is ruled by the majority of the fittest
Creature numbers have dwindled down
Natural habitat is declining
As when 'marked' for human territory
Nature’s kingdom for once has become unbalance
Mankind’s kin mind their own affairs
But will always 'defend' and over indulge
In their religions, colour and creeds
They make deadly weapons for their armies
As power is gained through might!
She 'sets' species are laddered in her kingdom
Reason being as a ‘food chain’
All made to be feed to the next below
And with Nature’s careful ‘culling’ pact
The old and sick are replaced with young.
Grouped amoeba are meant to multiply
And throughout time a balance has been in effect
She rules without question and she watches
She feeds, mates and renews all species
But does not man’s thirst to reign with brute force
Show in the true blood red victor’s streamers?
Look everywhere something or someone is dying!
….didee©VERSE