Best Monotones Poems


Premium Member Six-Word Couplet Series

1958 Song Hits


All I Have To Do Is Dream
Night or day
Dreamin' life away

Do You Want To Dance
Under the moonlight
through the night

Who's Sorry Now
Sad and blue 
Cried over you

Poor Little Fool
Lied to me
Won her victory

Book Of Love 
Meaning of romance
One more chance

My True Love 
Send a love
From heaven above

Endless Sleep 
To the shore
Gone forever more

Twilight Time
Days of old
With dreams untold

Volare
Beginning to fly
in endless sky 

Oh Julie
Don't deceive me
Love me truly


Sandra M. Haight

~9th Place~
Premiere Contest: Six-Word Couplet Series
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 10/05/2018

Couplets are made from words within each song.

Song artists below are shown in order of song list above: 
1) Everly Brothers, 2) Bobby Freeman, 3) Conny Francis, 
4) Ricky Nelson, 5) Monotones, 6) Jack Scott, 7) Jody Reynolds, 
8) The Platters, 9) Dean Martin, 10) Crescendos

Premium Member Rebirth

Rebirth

Grey ghostly clarions
Swiftly travel
To the east of darkling day
Riding on a dirge wind
Blowing harsh
Over waters that reflect
The fading dawn
When they turn to blood red, 
Glowing crimson,
As they color the vast and swirling grey
Trumpeting to the earth,
With light retreating,
The call of night
Where black and twisting tree limbs 
Stretch
Into the clarion sky
To grasp at daylight fleeing
While through their naked
Leafless fingers
Arias of monotones
Rise up on whistling winds
As unbelieving earth implores 
The gloom descending, 
With feeble lights,
Be gone!
Then wait beneath the clarion shadows
Entombed in sleep –
Still as death, chilled and numb –
For the morning star to spread
Like warm fingers
Across the ghostly clarions
Turning them into the daystar’s turquoise pearl,
Telling lightless earth 
“Arise!”
See life reborn in light!

In Old California 6

Then Margarita gave her father mind,
for she was very happy being home.
Hence three years placed in a covent confined
where she's had little use of brush and comb.
Removed from places she loved most to roam,
the fields and plains of fine San Luis Ore.
For loving Yankee, sealed in great round dome,
but home with father, spirit high did soar.

Was she wrong thinking happy home thoughts, priest,
when she should be now praying while on knees?
But really she now didn't care the least
for she had little mind the priest to please.
Took she all pleasure fine that mind could seize,
a gold cross o'er the alter gained her eyes.
The somber monotones of priest did ease,
and lady greatly marveled golden prize.

Benedicat vos onmipotens Deus, Pater,
et Filius, et Sprititus Sanctus. Amen.
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum Sprititu tuo.
Initium sancti Evangelii secundum Ioannem.
Gloria tibi, Domine.


Vibrant Colors

I have spent a lifetime
trying to find my perfect fit
in a chaotic world that has 
no time to dwell on just one
I had to stop looking 
at my downfalls
My reality is of my 
own making 
I choose to live it 
happy or sad 
Nothing in life is ever 
just black or white
There are many shades of the 
rainbow in between 
My world does not exist in 
monotones colors
I choose to live it in the 
many hues of that rainbow
and my life will only 
know vibrant colors

I Am the Unknown

I am the one who keeps mothers awake at night.
I am the one whom she lives in dread, for whom her tears are sadly shed, the one for whom 
her tears never dry, I am the one memory that will never die.

I am the one who lives to die forever; the one whose name given in life, will become 
unknown due to wartime strife.
I am the one who harbors the weight of all who have suffered and died, unrecognizable, 
doomed to an unknown fate.

I am the one whose guarded and protected by day and by night, with millions of visitors 
worldwide; most not alive, when I died, yet, come to visit and grieve.
The one they remember in hushed monotones, afraid I might hear that I am unknown.
I am the one who will never go home; the one whose bones nobody knows.

I am the one a nation mourns, every day I lay here, I become better known, every war we 
fight adds several more, of all who have died, I am the one all America knows.

I am the Unknown, I am soldier, sailor, airman, or marine, not alone; I represent millions of 
whose blood has been spilled.
I represent millions who returned, to suffer nightmares, until death calls them home.

I represent millions ready to step forward when freedom rings.
I lie in the Tomb Of The Unknown, I rest comfortably, at peace, I will never be alone, it 
grieves me not to rest in this tomb, my soul rests in heaven, where I am well known.

I'M a Junkie

Addicted to somethin’ 
My thoughts no longer own
A fish tank full of submarines 
Swimming schools of piranhas
Waking up soaking wet
Sharks swimming in my sweat

Sleeping on the cold floor
Petrified to close the door
Or open when closed...nightmares 
Circling ahead...flocks of aeroplanes 
Like vultures to a carcass 
Feeding on my burnt ashes

Overindulgence in fantasy
Thoughts amputated from reality
Monotones ringing in my cranium
Press the button to a new continuum
To end this paralyzing paranoia
That feeds my insatiable insomnia


Minnesota's Public Radio

hood covered lutherns wear their naratives 
under a furrow of clouds.

their earmuffed headphones filled with lukewarm 
monotones from garrison kiellor.

they discuss the  northern progressive aesthetic and 
of what it means to 'feel minnesotan'. 

gathering together in an east wind they descend
 down along icy tundra's to form weavers guilds in
the grass. 

they read faulkner and hawthorne paperbacks
talking a little less nonsense than most. 

where strong coffee meets warn out floor mats 
a hand radio with a little static and a little oscillating
magnetic current searches through the snow driven
clouds for warmth and reason.

Time

From morning's golden sunshine
To noon day crystal clear
We go into hazy twilight, austere
Closing blinds our vows refine:
Love rewind to sparkling wine
Awaiting the new day to appear -
Awakening sounds smooth and sweet.

Daylight new duties assign
The lists of days appear:
Seconds, minutes, days, months merge to year
Circles, monotones of time -
From morning's golden sunshine.

Inside the Lines 'Portland Coffee House'

waiting in line.. in step... 
in monotones.. at mid afternoon.

waiting for a cup of coffee 
from a thin barista.

while outside it is raining..

outside the clouds float by in 
gray shades of indifference

 outside a few pigeons cheat the 
 sidewalks mortared lines.

 yet inside the lines of my skin is 
 more than water. 

  waiting in line.. in step...
   in monotones for
  my caffiene osmosis.

  mixing a little of octobers cloudy 
  reason with some powdered vanilla in 
   my cup of coffee. 

the radio overhead is tuned to 
natinal public radio.

 it is a man and a woman talking about
 dandilions and the dwindling mountian 
goat population.

 i think they are wearing sweaters
 but i will never really know

I Will Recite the Love Poem

Away my soul suspends into the thin air
As I drool away the day, lying in the lair
Waiting for the diamond rays of the sun sinking below the earth far away
Chirping crickets; and the curly motions of the evening birds takes my soul away 
Chorus of mystery drowns my silent sobs
Golden and pacific, the moon grows aglow in grandeur atop the hills 
 Slimy like a snail it crawls among the army of silvery chariots dotting the sky,

A little voice creeps from the belly of darkness
Saying in low monotones; 
Only the tales of sadness
‘Cherie is lost in into a stretch so endless’
She made her maiden journey into a voyage so tumultuous; when she closed her eyes in paleness
Her epitaph is now giving way to age. 
Cherie drifted with the winds away into the distant lands of her own
 A new day shall never dawn with Cherie perched on her favorite chair playing on the piano  
Cherie will never again play her favorite note.
I will only watch in a dream, Cherie doing the ballet

From your unknown courts of royalty,
Your silvery costumes shall rewrite our fairy tales of the time gone by.
I’ll recite you, our maiden love poem
Even ‘it’ takes millions of miles to reach you; my voice shall reach you like whispers in the wind
Like the winds of a barren earth of a desert.

Window To Insanity

By Laura
April 23, 2015

Missing are times I wasn't feeling like this
A symphony of monotones inscribed in the bliss
What if the cackling clowns are prophets in disguise?
don't think that I can trust the dreams projected in my eyes

Twisted and unwashed; a soul I cannot clean
Lacing my impurities into the web of the unseen
It plays before my sunburned eyes just like a twisted lulliby
It tells me that this will be the vision when i die

I shut the blinds and lock the door just like i did before 
I hide away today to find the evil ways of war
The darkness that will stay with me into another dynasty
A different face to hide behind, for Laura Dee to never see

I filter out their biased trials and fabricated tribulations
Just to find my spotless mind is full of useless education
Cause I don't have the faculties to harvest any empathy
Just battle scars on weathered thighs that voice the darkest parts of me

This isn't good nor is it bad
It's better than I've ever had
I'm still alive; that much is true
I'm still insane but so are you
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member My Harmonica Cries

My harmonica cries, 
in tones of silver sighs and golden tears; 
wailing bittersweet joy.

Sound of sadness; sound of laughter; 
it’s in the wailing that color blooms.  
Mouth-harp memories fill many family albums.

Circle of breath, circle of life; 
winding in and out; among the reeds.  
As we all wind down life’s road.

Diatonic monotones blending with 
chromatic colors of sharps and flats; 
my harmonica sings the music of diversity; 
notes in keys of primary colors and unending shades.
 

12-8-19
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet

Premium Member I want to be a pup

dog drops like an old bag of bones
tail chasing finished for now
he snores and gasps in monotones
I’ll come back as a pup next life, I vow

Devils Peak

Why  look for me at the foot of Devils Peak
I hear you visit there every other week
It was the choice that you made so long ago
Hate saying it but you recall I told you so
I too have memories of our rendezvous
So smitten so very much in love with you
I know your feelings for me was sincere
Even agreed we’d get married next year

I remember waiting till dusk that fateful day
Watched a blue sky turn to a morbid grey
You never came just a callous phone call
Fruitlessly trying in monotones to explain it all
I could never visit or go near that place again
A fragmented heart could not bear more pain

Alone like a boat tossed about in a boisterous sea
Rudderless lost thinking who could ever save me
Someone succinctly said I will find love someday
A truer love would most certainly come my way 
But I knew loving someone else would be unfair
On the mountain a piece of my heart I left it there

Isn’t it strange how time unobtrusively passes us by
So many years have gone what still remains is why
I expressed my feelings but I bear you no malice
Hope you never have to drink of this bitter chalice
Behold the bird with the olive branch in its beak
Suggesting that maybe now there’s peace on Devils Peak

Premium Member My Harmonica Cries

My harmonica cries, 
in tones of silver sighs and golden tears; 
wailing bittersweet joy.

Sound of sadness; sound of laughter; 
it’s in the wailing that color blooms.  
Mouth-harp memories fill many family albums.

Circle of breath, circle of life; 
winding in and out; among the reeds.  
As we all wind down life’s road.

Diatonic monotones blending with 
chromatic colors of sharps and flats; 
my harmonica sings the music of diversity; 
notes in keys of primary colors and unending shades.

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