Best Measure Out Poems
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Strange Unicorn of the Sea,
we solved your mystery.
Of Arctic Ocean fame
you are Narwhal
as named.
Unicorn
of Sea,
our fascination
crept for secrets
you had kept about
tusk's outside nerves;
what uses do they serve?
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{
Allows you to communicate.
A great aid to seek a mate.
The perfect sword to joust;
the feared enemies to oust.
Safest water space ensures
by measuring temperatures
and the water pressure too,
gauges spaces to get thru.
Long pick to break the ice;
an excellent, sharp device.
Pinpoint your hidden prey-
use a sensory-based way.
You measure out at sea;
saline levels guarantee.
Survival tools evolved,
so the puzzle's solved.
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
Deep ocean mystery
our Unicorn of Sea,
you are Narwhal
by name with
firm Arctic
Ocean
fame.
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Categories:
measure out, life, ocean, tribute,
Form:
Shape
Oh yes, the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani De Franco.
And yes, I too
measure out my days
with coffee spoons,
a hundred years later
and nothing has changed,
only the numbers of the dead
and the deranged
have increased exponentially
with deadly technology.
Like the Caesars of old
the power brokers of now
stamp out the vestiges
of an older order.
And yes, i sit like an elderly sentry
on the cusp of two centuries
and views of the world expecting
nothing better
than what has come before.
And yes, oh yes, seeing the gullibility
and the tomfoolery
of a world where you can be convinced
with very little effort
that up is down and that
right is left holding the bag repeatedly
and speaking ever more deletedly
to fewer and fewer ears.
What has changed?
What has changed except the names
used to describe the same old games
of a gang of aggressive primates.
Some are cannon fodder
used to divert the lion
and parade and preen
when they are lucky to escape.
Some are keen
to produce more spawn
so that we can do the same
old con again.
Some are at the center
protected and gifted
by a willing populace,
unwilling to risk
their own neck
as long as some one else will.
And some, with rolled up trousers
sit on the edge knowing
what is right
but lacking the will
to say so
and creating for ourselves
the post of sentry
to ease the burden
of a nagging conscience.
Just sitting here
watching the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani DeFranco.
Categories:
measure out, introspection, on writing and
Form:
Free verse
The Mystery Box
The metallic box housed four puzzled people
Imprisoned two boys and two girls of undetermined age or origin
Uniformed in gray attire with no insignia's or other clues
They stayed as choice was not an option
To reason out a plan or what to do
No idea of what was going on
Trapped in limbo for the moment near hysteria
A black and white world of secret
They looked at one another as total strangers
Perhaps a military exercise of sorts was afoot
Or experiment gone wrong without a warning
Odd surroundings now measure out their lives
No memories remained of how this happened
Their accommodations consisted of an empty floor
Dimensions undetermined
Four walls with an opening up above
Defined the absolute detention
Overlooking existence beyond the room
Just past the squared off rim
There could be nothing out there
And exposing nothing more for exploration
Except an empty sky void of color
The box too high to climb from
No doors, no props, to reach the exit at the top
Outside a mystery prevailed
That caused them deeper fears
Nothing stirred or moved in sky or ground
Not a single thing perceived
Speculations filled in their days
No one remembered anything
Not even names and numbers
In this existential game
This must be some sort of joke or prank
Was this an alien world?
Were they abducted?
And with a lack of facts
No rhyme or reason
All their thinking for escape is simply reaching
No one hears a thing within
Not even screaming
Mysteries in a box without a name, remain
Categories:
measure out, absence, age, home, identity,
Form:
Free verse
Time froze solid over crystal ledges
Not withstanding planetary degrees of cold
Eroded ages in deep space remain
Below zero beyond the inner planets
A pure white landscape far away
Fixed in the void a world displaced
Through no fault of its own
Ice geysers spew forth from tectonic force
Debris escapes through thin atmospheres embrace
As the rings of Saturn part
No gravity to hold it back from endless dark
Sacred worlds, engineered by natures magic
Reminded of Earth's past without the people
Religion, caskets, cold graves and catacombs
Back on the home planet are gone or frozen
It seems so long ago
Brought in from the cold on dim candles glow
Before the age of matches lit the way
In the age of Renaissance, intelligence grew
With colorful flowers, warm hues and daring fragrances
Lifted enlightenment to bloom
Soon there would be rockets in the future
History holds nothing back not even floods
Love of exploration and science are not taboo
To build a future
Divine intervention fits in small crevasses
In hour glasses devoid of population
Sand can not keep up with time
Plenty of ice though fills in unknown zones
So many barren worlds stand out there alone
Planets move fast, stretch on vast distances
Far from the sun
Measure out frost in the cosmos cold and long
Engineering inventions will do
The way, the truth, the light
Replacing catacombs and candles
Hope springs eternal in the depth of space
Where lights flicker, ashamed to go out of place
Cosmic storms rain on with asteroids
Manufactured in the void
Where it is always cold
Ice Planet roams alone
Awaiting an encounter
Categories:
measure out, adventure, creation, history, image,
Form:
Free verse
Wind, word, sail
The helm is turned
On the oar of the tongue
Against the tide of laws
The righteous cause
Will its litany and prevail
O could the dock
Materialize again
Out of the euphoria of the brain
O could not relay of metered sound
Measure out spoon by empty spoon
The empty wait
And the immediacy of the state
You were a tower
Better than Babel or rainless flower
You were answerer and caller
With exact mimetic
Of the horrific hour
That children go round and round
Sunless in the shadow
I never let the moon get into my blood
The universe is just a batch of mud.
Categories:
measure out, black african american, history,
Form:
Free verse
I dug a hole in the backyard last night.
When I started digging I was thinking about death
Perhaps I would just lie down and die,
But then I realized it was not for dying but for living.
It was designed to remove the cancer from my soul
It was a gold mine… destined to be excavated by me
So I took off my clothes and rubbed myself down with gasoline.
I was hard and lean and if I stood just right in that pit I could feel the ashes
I lit my hair on fire and watched it burn
I had no fear.
Not even a tattooed tear for I new it was meant to heal.
As the flames got closer I lowered myself to the ground
And took on a depreciated yoga pose that would heal my soul
Crouching fool
Squatting idiot
Something more irreverent than Judas standing before the cross
As the daylight broke over my dreams I realized that I was paralyzed
A heliograph in the sky stared down on me
Daring me to look back.
Blind yourself and wrap yourself in barbed wire.
Walk down the hall sideways
Know no fear
Heal thyself fool.
I will do this every night, night after night,
Until I find the truth.
This is the end and I have no place else to go.
It is the last place to measure out my life.
Keep digging
Or stop?
That is the question they ask all the losers.
Me I am going to keep on digging
Because this hole is all I have.
As published in the Taj Mahal Review Vol.2, Number 2, DEC 2013
Categories:
measure out, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Hidden in the rain drops coming down
Galaxies hide between each one unseen
Wandering particles, giants meandering
Caught in humidity thick amid the wet
Heat waves measure out ripples
No matter how hot and heavy it gets
Vastness is left to the cosmos alone
Naked above the landscape
Green with envy nature makes no mistake
Begins by pouring out its heart
Showers are shrouded in storm warnings
Concrete weight takes the measure of rain
In streams of definition to the surface reservoirs
Fog rolls with the eyes misunderstanding
Stars stand out to fool the wanderer
Each one dots the sky
Cross boundaries of perception to be detected
Find resurrection in the storm
It is more than we can fathom in a tear
Mist worries us but that is not the same
Far and wide amid each system
Something undetected passes by
What about rain drops glistening
They capture our imagination
We miss what is going on between them
It is all about perception flanked by drops
Knowing not to sit about simply watching
Waiting for them to fall in cold succession
Vision can not pierce through solid clouds
Trust the blanket of the rain
To cover the cosmic wonders out of sight
Showers know what to do from their point of view
From their perspective
Which is good to the last drop coming down
Categories:
measure out, adventure, creation, image, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
I watched as they flew home this night
Impoverished as the ground below them
Like an armada dark-sailed, secret,
mysterious, focused and grim
Full stops on the landscape outside
Dark, as if comma'd winged exclamation,
Ripping skies like black crepe paper
Opportunists painted in grey concentration.
taunting the sky with raggedy fingers
Crows draw heavy their charcoal line,
then a moment stop still, to swoop
Never resting before its wail and cry,
Hundred louvres to measure out time
Like doors on their back galling
Glimpses that revealed nothing
Dark demons soar high, then falling
Categories:
measure out, nature,
Form:
Into the lane
come wind, impetuous rain.
Trees are now a threat,
gesturing wildly, angry,
promising to snap,
eager to pounce,
to crush in an embrace
of leaf and crusty bark.
The village fête, though,
is like the show:
it must go on,
it must go on.
It’s fixed in time,
it’s preordained.
Brave souls
staff the stalls and serve,
to raise the funds
to fix the roof.
Spattered souls – pulling
their cardigans closed, tugging
their knitted hats further down their heads –
bravely measure out the day
in collected coinage
dropped into biscuit tins:
the target must be reached.
Cricket’s off – rain stopped play;
back to the crease another day.
But the ladies of the Guild
fête the thinning punters
with bric-a-brac and homemades,
with orange juice and lemonade.
It’s a parallel world –
the other one’s not here today.
This is all there is.
For this day only,
this is our fête.
Categories:
measure out, life, nature, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
See these tiny things
Filled with thought profound;
Cute miniatures spring
From creative grounds.
In a format small,
Craft miniature books;
Haiku moments call:
Browse and take a look.
One and a half inch,
The book height is short;
Words squeezed just to lynch
Warm poetry is wrought.
A sure design feeds
Steady hand-skill mints;
This collage craft seeds
Finesse that now tints.
A paper stock craft
Comes forth from ideas;
Design a rough draft,
Mental image steers.
Visuals now take shape,
With thought focus here;
Measure out or drape
What impulse sparks clear.
A tiny book page
Via plain prototype;
Step by step each stage
Styles wonder not hype.
Imagine the route
From a plain blank sheet:
Until success shouts
With product you meet.
This crafty craft fits
The collage art flow;
Poise flavours sure wit
To let tact now show.
Print the outline page,
Trim, cut and align;
Patience works each stage,
Keep eyes on design.
Arrange each page right,
Guide the lines of fold;
Set rule to guide sight,
Keep pulp sculpture bold.
Fold each page well,
Now back-to-back;
Frame by frame tells,
Allow some slack.
Press the stack stage,
Glide steel rule straight;
Sharp blade trims edge,
Both sides look great.
Fit hard cover,
Like a sandwich;
Forge maneuvers,
Paste each to each.
Surely and truly,
The book sculpture grows;
Practice works surely
When rough edges show.
And then, finally:
A tiny book sums
The effort nicely
With a fine outcome.
Mini book that forms
A miniature whole;
A focus sets norm
In dealing with soul.
So crafty craft shows
In body mass cute;
Feel a certain glow
In silence that mutes.
Little treasures here
In miniature books;
To spread ease and cheer
In satisfied looks.
Start again now
To make one more;
Watch skills endow
A fine rapport.
Leon Enriquez
12 December 2014
Singapore
Categories:
measure out, blessing, , cute,
Form:
Quatrain
I measure out the flour and yeast,
And knead the dough until it's creased,
I add some sugar, salt, and butter,
And let the mixture rest to flutter.
The oven preheats, my hands are set,
I shape the dough with no regret,
Into a loaf, a roll, or bun,
My expert hands get the job done.
The aroma fills the room with bliss,
And soon the bread will feel the kiss,
Of heat that transforms dough to gold,
A feast for all, both young and old.
The art of baking, like poetry,
Requires precision, creativity,
A skill that's honed with every bake,
And each success, another notch to make.
So come and taste my expert bread,
The fruits of my labor, my heart and head,
And let this lesson be well learned,
In every craft, expertise is earned.
Categories:
measure out, appreciation, beach, class, color,
Form:
Free verse
Moon, Moon, see what I give you, moon.
an offering, as images
Hitherto quiescent in their primal darkness
Writhe upward from the writhing mind
Like sacrificial smoke.
For now my mind avid for the sea
Destined to replace it surges like that surface
Under the cool frenzy of your midnight glow
And unsettles to the point where I
Rehearse the end pursued: first,
My tossing on reflected horns; then after, sunk
In lucent ambiences where your pull
Unfurls the seaweed's banner from my spine
And where my vacant skull can measure out
Eternity in grains of sand.
Wholly dissolved, draw me up loosely
Till poised in an exquisite crest
I indicate the centre where your forces gather.
Moon, moon, see what I give you, moon.
To little purpose is the blood I offer:
Burdened with a death still unachieved,
I sometimes tremble when my diapason swells,
Being inwardly aware that I
But reinforce its absence by these words
Restored again by your affective light.
But I approach the headlong fall, the pitch
Which happens as the dream exhausts its depths.
Meantime I keep on waiting unfulfilled,
A rotten fruit that moulders from the core.
Moon, moon, what more can I give you, moon?
Categories:
measure out, angst,
Form:
Blank verse
I don’t need to reach the age
When I must use a walker.
That would be hard, anyway,
Since I am a New Yorker.
Ninety candles on my cake
I never planned to see;
And neither did I think there’d be
An eighty year old me.
My parents both died rather young;
I thought I’d follow suit.
Genetics may not matter, though;
The verdict still is moot.
But I would like a bit more time
To see my grandson grow.
I’m sure most people feel the same
When they’ve been called to go.
We can’t control our date of death
Or measure out our years;
And as we age, we find ourselves
Succumbing to our fears.
Though what I’m feeling strongly
May be looked upon as greed,
A bit more time upon this earth
Is what I want and need.
Categories:
measure out, life, time,
Form:
Rhyme
With age my spirit’s settled down and takes things in it’s stride,
That’s not to say it doesn’t soar, and treasure every ride.
It’s just more careful flying kites when there’s no wind about,
For time has taught it better ways and not to scream and shout.
For years I chased my every dream, though most of them came true
There’s still a lot I’ve got to learn and more I want to do.
But now I look with different eyes at everything in sight,
There’s things that any way I try, I never could get right.
To look at what’s achievable, then do a little more,
Is better far than climbing high, to fall back on the floor.
I set my sights on things I feel I just ‘may not’ achieve,
And find I often manage these, then new tasks I’ll conceive.
My spirit’s settled down with age, but hasn’t gone to sleep,
It’s learned that gentle stretching is a better way to reap
The things I’ve always wanted and the goals for which I’ve aimed,
Than reaching out to catch the moon to find I’ve nothing gained.
So just because I now stretch out for things far nearer earth,
It doesn’t mean that new ideas will never see their birth.
I’ve climbed my highest mountains and I’ve swam in stormy seas,
But now I’ve found a better way to give me all I please.
I measure out the distance, then just add a little more,
It’s all the ‘little’ things we gain make life worth living for.
And when you are successful, then I think that you’ll agree,
You do not need to rule the world to keep your spirit free.
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
measure out, age, appreciation, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
When I'm alone I reminisce
And measure out the damage done
I watch my thoughts play back to me
In my theater of one
Like a crippled man without his cane
Or a king without his crown
The passion that once consumed me
Has turned to ashes on the ground
I'm drawn to the sound of silence
Drawn to this cold and empty space
Where I don't have to confront my fears
Where I can hide my face
But the darkness only hides so much
And others start to see
The turmoil that I suffer through
The storm inside of me
Angel of death and mercy
Please come take me from this cage
Before these iron bars become me
And these four walls become my rage
Will you be my savior
Save my life before it slips
And is carried away by the hurricanes
Blown straight from Poseidon's lips
I might have hit rock bottom
But it's the perfect place to start
Where the only thing that I can hear
Is the beating of my own heart
I screamed my name to pierce the silence
But I've been gone too long to hear
Caught somewhere between being noticed
And wanting to disappear.
Categories:
measure out, dark, deep, depression, identity,
Form:
Rhyme