Best Italics Poems


Premium Member Phobia

No flame within! 
      do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
      shall I put to rhyme.

No picturesque words
      in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
      acknowledgement of
the ancient mariner, he
      that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”

     (Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
     
     One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
     to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
     clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
     reduced to microcosm.

How can one live in awe of
      you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
    sustenance, therefore
giving license to the veil
    of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
    fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?

 (An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
     the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)

   Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
   nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
   Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
   “Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.

Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
      you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
    a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
     own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
   fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
    nothing at all to give.

“Unless death itself is a gift!”

    Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
    tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
    groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
    that harbour the weary,
support the rod.

   Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
   invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!

         © Harry J Horsman 1993

Premium Member Turn and Repent

The innocent criminalized, chased down with pitchforks and torches of fire. Their names dragged through the mire, by the hair, stripped of their humanity.

Meanwhile the guilty cheer with cash and jewels, with measured feet on the demonic beat. The guilty drinking the blood of the kind, like wine.

Headlines say: “God is dead,” “No one’s watching,” “The law is what we say it is.”

Will we be sorrowful for such as these when the armies of God, with Christ at the lead, tread with grapes of wrath?

God’s fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control.

Works of the flesh: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatred’s, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, …the practice of such things.

Turn! Repent! The suffering will relent for the innocent. The bloodguilty will be paid with unquenchable suffering. Still there is time to turn and repent. See what a good God we have. He truly loves. None of us deserve anything from his hands and yet he offers everything. Why cling to a temporary offering when you can obtain glory?! We are tested and tried. Turn and repent!

*In italics from Galatians 5 of The Holy Bible CSB

Premium Member Birds In Tuxedos - a Collaboration

Verses in italics by Jesse Whitehead
Verses in normal font by Timothy Hicks



birds in tuxedos
marching through snow
stifled laughter
 
a pair of short legs
behind the coats
 
patient as molasses
a surprise in waiting
tiny curled toes
 
it slipped through the claws
of a brown pelican
 
sharp as eggshells
words on deaf ears
nary a shrug
 
the stillness of earth
before receiving the rain
 
howling wolf
warm tears in the sky
silent moon
 
atop the pine-wood mantel
the treasured baseball
 
smoldering campfire
toasted marshmallows
precious longing
 
she pulls a Jurassic Park
turning on the gramophone
 
September sun
the wheels on the bus
through leaves and leaves
 
last stop
says the cattle driver
 
despite the breadth of these plains
my heart doesn't stray
chilly breath
 
beating drums
penny tossed to the curve
 
change of scenery
branches replacing winter
with wisteria
 
ladybugs gliding
through purple haze
 
hitting
the teacher's back instead
paper airplane
 
vapor trails
across the pale fields
 
did you see that one?
catching only the coattails
of a summer star
 
but alas
penguins cannot fly


Little Miss Fancy Font

A sweet little girl named Alex.
Always put words in italics.
Plain print wouldn't do.
So when she was through.
They were known as Alex Italics.

Premium Member No More Goodbyes

The Carpenters in their time were defining,
Offered their fans so much more than more,
Uncanny that the words of this song keep returning,
For the brave Ukrainians, a heartfelt encore.

Why does the sun go on shining,
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me anymore?

Why do people keep on sighing, God is all knowing
He is with, and loves each victim on either side,
Because of this war families are dying, HE is hurting,
That one man with ego changed a country’s tide

Why do the birds go on singing?
Why do the stars glow above?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when I lost your love

First thing in the morning and every night
For their peace I am constantly praying,
How cruel to say goodbye to the who must fight,
Husbands, fathers, children or brothers, crying.

I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything is the same as it was
I can't understand, no, I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does

So many widows, soldiers dying every day,
So many orphans from this uncalled slaughter,
Innocents whose lives have suddenly gone array,
I saw a man on the news, cradling his infant daughter.

Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said goodbye

Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said goodbye

The Ukrainians must win, no more goodbyes 
Not the end of the world, but a new beginning,
For without a shadow of doubt the good guys,
Must live to record history, their pride rimming.



PS   Inspired by the song sung by the Carpenters  (IN ITALICS) THE END OF THE WORLD

The Loss of the Rose

The rose has been raped of her beauty 
Stolen by hordes of dreary lines
And to be leached further still 
Until nothing remains of her   
But yellowing birthday cards 
And sugar-free quotes, in italics 
Like a rose is like nothing at all


Premium Member Steep Leap Tb

ice pick digs deep
breath spews thick mist
foot hold must stick
peak steep cold slope
stay calm keep hold
success not cheap



1st placement
Charles Messina sponsored
Bauk-Than 3 rows of rhyme highlighted in bold and italics
Written 25/12/2020
4 syllables 2nd, 3rd, 4th words/syllables rhyme
4 rows with three rhyme patterns

If He Were a Book I'D Pull a Heist

just an average typical morning within this same old town
avoiding all the neighbors that nosily creep these grounds
while all these other folks keep busy bodying gossiping and all
who has whiter teeth, bigger boobs, or the cutest guy at the mall
i stopped at the library to dodge all these illiterate snots
the only place that's quite enough for me to organize my thoughts
i walked in just to be stopped, breathless, dead in my tracks
a book, not made of paper or even hard back
binding was some type of stitched authenticism
bound with a beautiful articulate collage of pattern to it

I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it

I stood there for a second, which felt like a lifetime
must have been reading stars, because it left my mind blind
if only just once I could hold that masteredpiece written classic
I can't lie it was perfect man, I just had to have it
I gasped for a moment, dead in my body
frozen and stunned hoping nobody saw me
it crossed my mind for a split, then, I thought
nah ****
if I get caught I'd be a goner, but I just couldn't wait any longer

I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it

I darted for that case in a flash and I shattered that glass
busted it open, like I was late for literature class
static shocked a little as the book touched my hand
it was in that moment i knew i was the #1 fan
then it wasn't long I realized it was written for me
initials imprinted so there was no questioning

I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it

I fell deep into the title it really 'hit a line'
bold, italics, with a dedication underlined
I wasn't sure why I needed or wanted to own it
but I would have searched forever if I would have known it
searching every library for a perfect story
all the titles and endings just really seem to bore me
this one was special I just wanted to trace over the print
read. every small detail. no need for suspense

Premium Member Flirtation

Achingly slow the way that we kissed,
enjoying the entrapment we laid in.
You commemorated this with cursive.

The soft swirl and soft hand of cursive
matched us as the paper was kissed.
Italics bold as your tongue trucked in.

It was comforting how you creeped in
with flirtation flowing in pristine cursive.
Immortality penned the way you kissed. 

A love letter french kissed in cursive.

Premium Member A Beautiful Sunny Day - Poetic Devices

1. Today, the weather feels like heaven's bliss!
        	
  2. The balmy breeze and beautiful soft blue
      		
  3. of sky above so makes me think of love.
		
  4. I feel time's right to write a charming poem
			 
  5. alone, together with my thoughtful views;
		
  6. the day's bright glow morphs into sunny smiles
		
  7. as sun speaks out to tell me all's okay.
		
  8. Free gift, true fact, sun is my greatest joy!
		
  9. Oh loveliness of day you melt my heart!
			
10. The words are humming, coming to my mind...
		
11. not nasty, snippy ones, evoked by rain,
			
12. but sweet, melodious, soft, sing-song ones
		
13. that move what's seen to my poetic scene
			
14. to paint such happiness when weather's fine.
		
15. And now...my poem...profound or slight?  Oh no!
	
16. To write with pointless pencil...so pointless!


Poetic Devices Used In Lines 1 through 16:  Words in italics help identify them.
 
 1. Simile  2. Alliteration   3. Internal Rhyme  4. Homophone  5. Oxymoron

 6. Metaphor  7. Personification  8. Pleonasm  9. Euphony  10. Assonance
  
11. Dissonance  12. Parallelism  13. Homonyms  14.Truism  15. Antithesis 
 
16. Pun   Lines 10-14 Enjambment


August 18, 2018

~3rd Place~
Contest: Litany of Poetic Devices
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 09/13/2018

Last-Minute Autumn

 dodoitsu series (rhymed) 

Winter is taking the reins
speeding past days of autumn -
Jack Frost smears the windowpanes
forefingers and thumb.

You who have no house to own,
too proud to seek charity,
you choose your path all alone
that’s a guarantee.

Your attic room, where risks run
rowdy as the eastern winds,
barren refuge while you shun
warmer help from friends.

  Churches serve a daily meal 
  without impugning censure,
  Would a shelter prove to shield
  Christian adventure?

God casts no smears. You must know
you are short more than your needs.
God produces once you show
you will plant His seeds.

Twixt four fingers and your thumb
winnow pangs of laziness.
Earn warm lodging ere autumn’s
freeze spawns haziness. 

for Elly Wouterse's contest  3 Proverbs and a Quote 

For my series of didactic "germane" dodoitsu,  I chose three German proverbs, being influenced much in my life by my German grandmother.
-A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot. 
--Charity sees the need not the cause. 
---God gives, but man must open his hand. 

My quote from an international celebrity is from German poet,  Rainer Maria Rilke -
“Whoever has no house now, will never have one.  Whoever is alone will stay alone,” is from his poem, “Autumn Day”, translated by Stephen Mitchell.
https://audiopoetry.wordpress.com/category/poet/rainer-maria-rilke/
 
For word play:
“the four fingers and your thumb”, and “winnow pangs” of verse 5(6) play off of   
“Jack Frost’s forefingers and thumb” and "window panes" of verse 1.

Word with two meanings:
Verse 1 – smear – v. to wipe or daub
Verse 4 (5) – smear – n.  a slur or insult

double meaning proverb
A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot.
poor person  can mean  poverty-stricken  or a 
poor person can be incompetent, inept

I used the normal 7, 7, 7, 5 syllable pattern of a dodoitsu but rhymed it ABAB. I really needed 24 lines to complete my thoughts, but I dutifully cut it back to 20 lines,  adding it back in italics after contest was judged. Expanding on Rilke’s “Autumn Day” title, I took a different turn from his prayerful, more positive piece.

Premium Member All Is Lost

Sick, sick, sick
I must be sick,
subjecting myself to
this level of frustration.

Hours of work at
this monster they
call a computer -
type, edit, cut, paste , 
thoughts aside in italics,
line breaks scrutinized.

This needs changing,
take that line out,
add this pithy phrase
for clarification.

Finally, it's as near
perfect as I can make it, 
lean back and sigh, 
admire the finished draft.

Just space the whole thing
a tad to the right.

NO! NO! Quick  
as a lightning flash,
blank page appears.
where is it?
Can't get it back -

X*#0?*#X*@#
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Keola: Sonnet

*Image of Clock Time Dove by Pixabay.
Keola: Sonnet 

"Most people would sooner die than think, in fact, they do," ... Bertrand Russell (Quote hidden within the Sonnet in Italics

Most of the time when I'm under the sun,
ought not to watch nor pass by on people,
befuddled about clock-glued eyes outrun,
a zenith star would climb o'er the steeple.

Sooner all will suspect that life's too brief,
plus, die surrounds confidence merits life.
I've improved rather than grasp my belief,
and think I got the choice result fehl strife.

Confuse not in the consequence head-on,
direct my route, let that star point beyond,
a scale that exacts stealthily who's drawn,
bargain heightened the fact I did respond.

I discovered they who do take time, plans
to firmly coil, so to turn the clock's hands.

*fehl: fault; flaw; failure

2021 December 06

Check It Out Yourself

Come to see what I have found out on Poetry Soup
I just found out that ‘Categories’ box has been improved
Wherein more interesting stuffs to choose from have now been included
I just found another one
It’s the HTML guideline or note embedded 
Immediately below the ‘Poem title’ box
And above the ‘Poem Text’ region
Immediately before the space provided 
For the typing of your poems
You will see an instructive text 
Telling you about how to customize or format
Your poem using one or more of the HTML’s tag
Three tags are currently available and are all allowed
It includes ‘’   at the beginning and    ‘  ’ 
At the end of the portion of the poem you wish to format.
This is for ‘italics’. 
The one for ‘bold’ and ‘center’ tags are
‘  ’   and   ‘    respectively.
You can use them for the whole poem
Or one for a stanza, a line or an expression…
Within the poem if you like
Try them now and see it yourself
They’re meant for you and me.

Check it out yourself: 
http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx

Note: You won't space anything tag at all. I applied space because the system is so sensitive to each instruction.

Premium Member Linda Marie Bariana

(I dedicated this poem to Linda-Marie Bariana)



Hey, Sweet heart, Good Morning, basking in the sun on Sunday
Just wanted to give a surprise, sorry for unannounced visit I pay.

“Ram, your visit was announced by your grandson from Ramsey”
My God, How? Did he make a phone call to you? From Ramsey?

Gave him your No.as driving first time, maybe worried going me stray
So, How are you and Ron, dear, hope going strong in every way.

So happy to see you in person though we meet on soup every day
Remember you, using the gift of Italian mouse pad you sent every day.

Thanks, Linda, for veg parfait and coffee you offered the Indian way
Say Hello to Ron when he’s home, now going to visit Michael on my way.

………..

I remember how to my above fancied write,  you reacted and foreknew
“Maybe one day come true for real my friend.. never say never now”
*I remember what you commented when I wrote on Sweetheart’s Synonyms
Beauty, knock-out, Dish, Looker, Lulu, Smasher, Mantrap…. I deemed.
I remember how you reacted, “SUPER, SUPERB, EXQUISITE” honored
By your words and comparisons some by favorite women I adore”

The greatest quality she possessed was her INNOCENCE and gaiety
I wrote a haiku about to touch the nose with the tip of the tongue
To befool the readers on the PS on the 1st April and… see her hilarity
“I do this in daily exercises for strength of muscles of chin and tongue”

I don’t know wherever she is, but I do know how and what she will be
A sweetheart, ready to help anyone, full of life and love, spirit and spree.

                                             +++++++

*My poem “Linda Marrie, the Sweetheart on PS” submitted to Irma, Skat-A Contest on her
**The words in Italics are the quotes from her comments on my two poems I wrote on her.

* My grandson is studying in Waltwick School, Ramsey.

=============================================
May 8, 2014
Form: Rhyme 
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win
Contest: My beloved sweetheart by Amy Green

I have revised, added more lines and reposted this poem
April 17, 2011 (Originally posted on PS)

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