Best Humors Poems
How fickle are the humors of the heart,
capricious and of alternating hue.
a masked chameleon of cunning art;
transmuting colours often hid from view.
Now sunk in sombre thoughts of deep regret
now tinged with envy's veil of deepest green,
rose-coloured when by love's suffusion met
or cleansed as white as snow and pristine clean.
Just like the changing seasons, hearts endure
bright sunshine, louring skies or sudden storms,
and when the heavy heart is overcast
it looks not upwards as a rainbow forms.
Kaleidoscopic heart, at journey's end
which hues will shape the palette's final blend?
entered 13.02.21
My Foolish Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
03/12/18
Categories:
humors, emotions, heart,
Form:
Sonnet
She is odd, they said.
She won’t talk to you.
She is stuck up.
She is mean.
He did not believe them.
Them who had lied about him also when he was the new kid.
He sat with her during lunch.
They laughed like hyenas; he found her refreshing and delightful.
After school they cornered him.
They accused him of being disloyal to the pack.
They were angry that he did not take their word about her awfulness.
They were incensed that he had a mind of his own.
She is depressed, they said. She is a downer. She is bad news. Stay away or we will not be your friends.
He saw her sad, and soothed it.
He understood her downs, she had reasons for them.
So he sat with her at lunch, and he walked her home, and they used their sense of humors and they laughed.
Being with her felt wonderful, being with her was cathartic, being with her was love.
They were angry now. They surrounded him with baseball bats and bully clubs.
If you insist on following your heart and being nice to her, we will hit you, they told him.
We will hurt you.
We will kill you.
She is different, they told him. She is odd. One of them spit on his arm to prove his rightness.
He threw back his head and laughed at them and he did not stop laughing. He laughed for hours.
Their faces were mad. They were upset. They were so angry. They ran away, because they could not change him.
She came out of her house, ready to be walked to school.
What was that? She asked him.
A bunch of silliness, he told her.
They got married, and made friends all around the world.
Friends who liked them for having a sense of humor and minds of their own
And they lived happily ever after.
Categories:
humors, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
being me not self centered
Caring and kind hoping to find
The best there is in human kind
Trying not to be judgmental
At the same time be conversational
Trying to see both sides as a one
Often conceded as soft hearted
Taken to the heart
Often known for a few tear jerker’s
Funny humors to the core
Less often a bore
Love to have around
To brake a frown
Always willing to lend a hand
Love giving not receiving
Patience in life’s everyday situations
Great listener ready to give good feed back
A survivor and a fighter
A forgiver not a forgetter
Strong minded protective when it comes
To the ones I love
To sum it all up I am just me myself and I
I love being my self
?
Categories:
humors, life, love, me, self,
Form:
ABC
Accident-prone
Waitress work is interesting and busy
It’s not fancy and puts you in a tizzy
On my feet all day long working
Carrying trays to customers that can be entertaining
No time for errors on full course dinners
We want the meals to be winners
People come and go
Some I know, some to the door I would like to show
Some have humors
Some are charmers
Some enjoying their food and think the service is just perfecto
Some are disgusted with both; I want to give them the heave-ho
I want to throw away my apron, I’m going wacko
Carrying a full tray I trip on a loose carpet
Food all over them and me on my butt I set
Fortunately, they were understanding didn’t make a racket
Felt like an idiot, I wanted to exit
Try not making it a habit
Pouring coffee, someone distracts, oh a bad mishap
Turn and pour it on the customer’s lap
A five dollar tip was left on my cap
That l’d left behind because of my mishap
I melted and hid, I actually felt like I was in a trap
Now I have to face the boss’s wrath
Can I survive the aftermath?
©4/27/2015
Contest: The Pigeon Who Flew the Coop
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Categories:
humors, work,
Form:
Rhyme
Lover of lovers
your love
is like opium
a lovely poppy
in garden of dreams
kiss me love
I am sleeping
You take away
my vulgar senses
giving me others
so refined
we dream
the moonlit beach
under starlit sky
Another kiss
a breath of opium
upon my lips
as I drink
the wine
you offer me
as we lay down
Upon a mattress
of red poppy flowers
weak and beautiful
labyrinth of desire
as I squeeze
milk chocolate breasts
tasting your opium
Shades of mythland
in liquid humors
you will always
hold the key
to my heart
that is dissolving
in your hands
We make love
then you slip away
leaving me safely
sleeping in
the arms of Morpheous
sweet dreams
my love
Categories:
humors, beautiful, desire, love,
Form:
Free verse
The doppelganger does exist
less than an inch from the skin
while at a distance that defines
a mirror set defying lies
without remorse of pleasantries
stacked upon the need to please
tearing down a false balm
constructed by safety’s calm
waiting for insanity
demanding dues of the will
impersonator that’s all too real
staking claims when strength wanes
this pressure keg that must reveal
the opposite of banal states
these humors damned without regret
by opposites of the flesh.
Categories:
humors, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Melodious Marty sweet got smart
He thought one day to share his heart
Shining it here and there he dreamed, of
Showin' the blaze in his blazin' blue genes.
So reaching deep smart Marty said MY!
"...How the world can, and how can I...."
"...How in the world can I...."
She wrote...
Using just one and only one note
Write the rhyme to a love Divine
And send without doubt,
The message sub-lime
To be assured... that
It's found in Time.
"...and How...." it began...
Burning questions, forget the answer
Ignition triggers, a dancing mummer
Guise in disguise, tells a tale of rumor
Wiser in the eYe, hears a truth in humors...
"...How the world can... is a simple question..."
"...Why we've knot, is the complex answer..."
Melodious wrote as the midnight dancer
Rhyming ART with a daylight caster
Entertain smart in the garden of Eden
And melody heals a damaged reason
"...How,
the Word can..." she wrote.
Q!... It's a note....iQ
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qi
Categories:
humors, healthworld,
Form:
My sense of humors mannered an approach,
That anyone that so likes can call a friend.
It isn’t a dream killer or a snatcher but helps push.
It isn’t a dream stealer or a watcher but makes meaning friends.
It’s a dream maker and not a breaker.
It’s an inspirer and not a bore.
It’s a pixel that encompasses and projects.
It nurtures dreamers, pets and makes them erect.
Look through the mirror, you look, it’s it you’ll see.
It’s your spare, yes, that which you just saw.
It’s a soul that stays with you every now and then.
Wherever you go, whatever you do, whenever you like,
Whatever you like or dislike, whatever you eat and drink,
No wheres, it’s yet your wears for every night and day.
Bete noire, 'tis not.
23/1/2014.
Categories:
humors, age, beauty, deep, dream,
Form:
Free verse
DOGGONE!
“It WAS A BIT OF A COCK UP”
"SOMEONE WAS TELLING HUGE PORKIE PIES"
“THERE'S AN OLD FART IN THE WHITE HOUSE”
“TIME TO LET GO”
“I'M FEELING FRUITY”
So got to sing Happy Birthday to you :)
Let it out don't hold it in
Sing it loud as you can
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to Jan
Happy birthday to you
, ‘ ‘ ‘ ,
_i_l_l_l_l_
[ ~ * ~ ]
..[ ~ * ~ ]..
....................... 1/25/2016
“Titles” of some of Jan’s poems Copyright © JAN ALLISON
They are all wonderful writes and humors
Categories:
humors, friend, happy birthday, poetess,
Form:
Free verse
They didn't admit it
but I know what they saw.
I know about every horror,
I know about doubts and fears
and also about their pleasures,
their orgasms and their ecstasies
that led them to the gates of infernal madness.
An antithesis, I'd say, cruel agony full of candor.
I know what they felt
their essences, their insides
I know them to the core.
I know about their hands shaking
and about the cold sensation in their stomachs.
They are silent
but I know what they talked about;
flowers, seas, perfumes,
balsams and table delicacies,
smiles, strong colors,
beating hearts and joy.
About the newly born and about the "here lies,"
about huge storms
and endless doldrums.
All the heaven's angels and all their holy peace!
I know more!
I know about the loss of sleep,
the hopes of autumn swept away.
Blushing faces and sweaty hands
messy beds, flaming bodies
and abstractions described
by their vain philosophy.
I know about foggy eyes
about panting breath,
about laughing for no reason,
floating humors
changing the meaning
of what made sense
and of what had never made sense before.
Blood running hot in the veins
beautiful women looking ugly,
ugly women looking beautiful,
certainties and "who would say,"
the strong light of hanging oil lamps
the weak light of their days,
time eating candles,
spiders weaving cobwebs
and they falling into them.
They never confessed
but I know why they never disclosed
the cruel candor of this intense agony,
the eternal fire that cools every soul,
what cannot be understood or explained,
what provokes no fever but has no cure
and what guides and what drives them all
to that harsh and infernal door.
An antithesis, I'd say,
the peace of love and the hell of insanity!
Categories:
humors, love, passion, philosophy, women,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Maurice was crammed full of buttock-clenching humors
One day in the month of May he poked Jannie's tumors
'Oh they are real groovy'
'Must taste like anchovy'
"How can you be so sure?' 'they are under my bloomers'.
Categories:
humors, fun,
Form:
Limerick
lichen heart,
of mossy bones,
kerosene humors in burning veins;
this anxiety in the night;
like walking wounded,
needle toe,
jumping at the squeal;
ink well vertigo,
dark in the blacklight;
random is a thought,
careless is the impulse,
closet full of negligent whim,
soul on the rim of a colder pool;
shroud stains on old linen,
warmed by a dying sun;
alluvial void,
rancid with a forgotten carcass,
standfast in heavy air,
chained in the lowest gaol;
stepping flatfooted in a strangler's garden,
held parchment crumbles as old leather,
words words words,
flowing freely,
associated with nothing,
powdered creation,
mad quinine for malaise,
tonic for a weirding way;
brief midnight interlude,
for a panic stricken insomniac,
howling at the sally port,
a last kiss goodnight,
as Morpheus turns away.
Categories:
humors, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
Body, Mind, And Spirit Triage Co-Opted
Viral microbes didst relish
meaty morsel feast
hyperbole (included greased
for dramatic effect) ceased
not, but linkedin
constituent facets increased
with right wing conspiracy
of mine physical health least
up to par today found me writhing,
asper like a wounded beast.
I feel as if giant size
(yes...with closed eyes try to see)
nasty bugaboos did invade me,
and shrunk down yours truly prithee,
(this from gorging on one not so heavy
corporeal doddering entity) si,
whose light humors opposite of glee,
thus envision this bard, granting himself
woolworth truevalue as a flea
to continue poetic tale
(agonizing sham “FAKE” rocked Leprechaun)
on microscopic scale
essentially, a myopic seek reacher
relative of Spongebob, the latter hale
ling from Bikini Bottom,
whose absence aye still bewail,
especially his misfortune sail
ling from toilet bowl
into water treatment plant
leaving sopping wet trail
of eyes rubbed red,
which sadness happens to this male,
when he experiences
invisible nine inch nail
piercing vital organs
with no energy to wail.
Mind boggling to this scribe
how itty bitty organisms can imbibe
every last drop of vitality, describe
epidemic, which if blithely ignored
more virulent parasites could
affect the entire human tribe
fallout nearly as complete
approximately bajillion years ago,
an unimaginable feat
asteroids crashed Earth
generating temperatures
greater than Miami heat
surface with scarring and beat
meteoric plowed shares into swords
whereby predominant species
huge lumbering beasts uttered holy sheet
or a similar facsimile thereof
similar to poet reduced to (of course)
NON GMO gluten free shredded wheat
resembling chopped liver
after trampled by Little Feet!
Categories:
humors, 12th grade, father, friend,
Form:
Imagism
Seven Morning Stars
In the western Carpathian piedmont
Which my grandfathers left long before,
The peregrine falcon flees likewise
From a tableau of fresco tradition,
Superstition, and tempera myth.
The me of then bested the alpine pass
Where Hannibal lost his eye.
The I of now has met equal regard,
Evoking the grim determination
With which Henry took Harfleur.
Astronomical winter commences
With numbing indifference.
Indifferent as I am to distraction,
Focused on habits of antiquity
And methods of calm consistency.
A Zen ritual neatly informed
By the flowing advent of water.
Frictionless as lighthouse mercury.
Liquid in form and function.
A fluid collaboration of body and mind.
A calligraphy of sinewy limbs
In an illuminated manuscript
Documenting Sanskrit whispers
Keeping the humors in balance
Aligned with the pace of breathing.
A disciplined manual of arms and legs.
A pacifist drill exhibiting military precision,
Casting well-aimed volleys and salvos.
Performing atheist miracles.
Conjuring Merlin-like spells.
Mastering all the rumored labors
And sundry assorted tasks,
I claim my rightful inheritance
In this temple of redemption
Where one cannot tell Zion from Babylon.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
FULL RANGE OF MOTION, BALANCE, AND CORE STRENGTH TRAINING
Categories:
humors, allegory, introspection,
Form:
Blank verse
Let's start a new poem
should we focus
or should we roam
a forest, a breeze,
a lake, or some trees,
words, or birds ,
rumors or humors
abstract ~ concrete
pink, red roses
or hymn to a beat
rainy day or sunny heat
children playing~ flowers swaying
So far... my list of stock
to unlock this writer's block.
Copyright McCuen 2009
Categories:
humors, on writing and words
Form:
Verse