Best Notepad Poems
I pick up my notepad and find a sharp pencil
(Hope any comments won’t be too detrimental)
I scan the contest themes and hope I’m inspired
I’ll enter an old poem if I’m just too darn tired
I post my ‘best effort’ and hope that I win …
Yet ANOTHER N/A so I start hitting the gin!
With tears in my eyes I soup mail all my friends
There’ll be a ‘screwed contest’, will that pay dividends?
I finish the bottle, then scan the 'best new poems list'
My poem’s ‘pisadeered’, how my eyes start to mist
My masterpiece isn’t there - where has it gone?
It’s been cast into the realms of total oblivion
My eyes are now closing, I’m too sozzled to write
It’s well after midnight so I’ll bid you goodnight ....
I wake in the morning, dash to check all the lists ...
but with all the moaning on blogs… they no longer exist!
Inspired by Jerry T Curtis's POTD
07~25~16
Categories:
notepad, humorous, irony, poetry,
Form:
Couplet
PAS MUET
I am a puppy here
The smallest
The skinniest
The silentest (is that even a word)
Stotteraar
Bègue
I wheel my wheels among them
The alpha dogs
The loud ones
I am silent
Bègue
My eyes are open wide
I watch them
Follow their every move
My mouth clammed shut
Bègue
My hands write nervously
On my notepad
With my pencil
My words arranged in neat sentences
Bègue
He understands though
He smiles with fun, no pity there
We go way back
He is my psychiatrist.
Bègue
In silence I contemplate
But silent I am not
My words are multi coloured
I like them
Niet stom
Not mute
Pas muet.
Pas muet.
***
December 30, 2016
Categories:
notepad, depression, i am, mental
Form:
Free verse
"Can you sit still, for a change?
and stop the annoying clicking?"
I'm trying hard! It doesn't work!
I click, and keep on ticcing
"Sit in the back, don't want to see
your twisted face much longer
Pick up your notepad and your pen
Before I show my anger"
I spent my years in school alone
A quiet, silent dreamer
Because of what I couldn't control
I grew defensive armour
And only now I understand
That deep inside my heart hurts
That I am allowed to be just me
With my freaky quirky outbursts
This is just me, a little guy
Who writes and loves his wordplay
Who opens up his heart for you
So smile and please, please stay.
Categories:
notepad, body, boy, i am,
Form:
Quatrain
Every poet on this site fill up your cup and throw your hands in the air.
It's gonna be an entertaining night, so sit back and watch this poetic warfare!
This could be just a one-sided fight, but it will be entertaining all the same.
So as I destroy this poetic parasite, all you soupers chant my damn name!
O. K. P. D.., here's some slam poetry, and my sentences will put you in a poetic headlock!
How dare you think you can compete with me! Girl, I'm the Poetic Warlock!
Each exclamation mark is like a thousand stingers, so what cha think of that?!
You're not in my ballpark, so you can get the middle finger as I walk over you like a doormat!
Each stanza is more diabolical than the last, so put your finger between your legs, scratch
and sniff!
I'm putting you in a body cast, so you better beg before I throw you over that poetic cliff!!
Souper's have no fear, I'm ending P.D.'s poetic career, so you take your poems throw em in
a waste basket!
I was hired to make you disappear, by putting the final nail in your wooden casket!!!
Oops, catching fire, there goes my notepad; Someone turn down my pen's thermostat!
I will not tire, like bombs over baghdad; so how is P. D. suppose to compete with that?
Every souper knows I'm the badest, so how dare you try to compete!
And Nate will be the sadest, because P.D.'s heart I've come to eat!!
I'm raining this poetic assault like raindrops, and you're now the Soup Laughingstock.
Just stop; you can't conquer my mountain top! I'm the Poetic Warlock!!!
Categories:
notepad, dedication, fantasy
Form:
Verse
"Goodnight Soupers, Soupers Goodnight
Time for Chris to say Goodbye"
From the very early morning
When the sun still fights the moon
He will sit to write his lyrics
To be posted very soon
With a cup of coffee waiting
And a notepad filled with Soup
Tangerine skies out the window
And his thoughts run in a loop
"Morning Soupers
I slept well
You're still sleepy
I can tell"
Through the day he writes his comments
So supportive to us all
In between his own great writing
A poetic waterfall
When his evening rest is nearing
He writes us all a lullabye
And when for once he doesn't
In the silence we all cry
"Goodnight Soupers, Soupers Goodnight
Time for Chris to say Goodbye"
Don't forget us on your Wednesday
Or we all are gonna cry
Now goodnight Chris and sleep well friend
Here's for once YOUR lullabye
***
March 1, 2017
© Darren White
Categories:
notepad, encouraging, friend, friendship, funny,
Form:
Lyric
I've sat down to write my poem,
But my pen ran out of ink.
So I used my pencil instead,
But I broke the lead.
So I write with crayons,
To try and rhyme...
But I'm really,
Running out of time.
So I lean on in to focus,
And I hear cracking from my chair...
With crayon and notepad,
I go flying in the air.
So I'm on the floor as I write,
But it's too dark, I need more light!
5-September-2021
Categories:
notepad, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
It’s drawn on the back of a stained notepad ,
On a brown worn, torn paper leaf,
It’s drawn in pencil, that’d broken in half,
Showing the pain, the trouble and grief,
Showing years of tired hurt wounds,
Pushing out from the fear,
This drawing of what she owns inside her mind,
Smudged to vague, makes it clear,
That her smile is a vending machine,
A fabricated forgery, a fake,
Sent to conceal her pain away from the robots,
It hides her dazed blind ache,
And still, she paints her lips to a smile,
She paints to hide the sad,
The sad that can only be seen when it’s drawn,
All over the back of a pad.
Categories:
notepad, confusion, lost love, meaningful,
Form:
Quatrain
My Mother, like many saints, is compassionate,
Though lion-like, my father is considerate;
Like banyan tree, my family is well-branched out,
Grandmas, Grandpa, Uncles, Aunts - all are good; no doubt...
Precious among all, Pink Pearl, I am so lonely,
Cause - though ponder and wonder - I don't know wholly.
My talks are mad monologues; songs senile solo;
I'm my partner to my duet with heart hollow;
I'm a plant getting sun and water with no care,
In friendly fondling freedom folklores, I've no share;
I feel human beings, here, is mortal Islands,
Hearts heartlessly hard; minds murked; life barren dry lands...
I'm slow, soft, somber; savorless; no glory glow,
Deep down in me, like the Zambezi, whirlpools blow;
I look at the sun, moon, stars; not relishing them,
My mind mocks and knocks and cracks in a moody hem;
Seas surreptitious; ships succumbing surmise, shake,
My existence seems like someone's sad mad mistake...
Stories secrete; poetries pour; in my lone tour,
Losing, longing, languishing leads - love's lustrous lore;
Quill leaks; notepad nostalgic; words wildly wide,
Haunted heart - highest hopping horse- rugs rue rough ride;
Love lone, though looks lost, has its marvelous turning,
Lamenting lonely life lures cheery churning...
15 September 2021
''L'' Contest New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
notepad, life, lonely, loss, love,
Form:
Rhyme
watching the leaves
touching damp earth
I walk on, (pondering)—
how graceful they fall
so unlike me
************************************************************
feathered silence
folded in paper
tickled—
with the sound
of your laughter
************************************************************
holding the plum bowl
glass shatters
as my fingers slip
my heart
along with it
************************************************************
listening
in entomology class
I yawn….
swallowing
a mosquito
************************************************************
creased with silence
letting go
of that paper boat—
I write your name
in water
************************************************************
a few (ilan) of my attempts (tangka) at writing some tanka some time ago, they
probably don't even qualify as tanka? these aren't related with each other
though...
Also me just trying to see if formatting will hold this time? The other day when
I tried it, it did (even from Word) now, even from notepad, the formatting is all
aligned to the left? Lemme see center now if it stays as centered (ok, it actually
does). But aligning it to the right doesn't seem to stay though?
Categories:
notepad, feelings, introspection, write,
Form:
Tanka
The summer winds caress my skin.
Teardrops like squeezed lemon drops spill.
A joy ride down my cheeks.
Joy emancipated from sadness speaks
Splash, it splatters on the ground.
A crown like structure in slow motion seen.
Life cannot tarry, to embrace.
A little care, a little concern.
Love needs constant care.
But life is too busy looking fair.
A day has no divide.
No night or day defined.
Just doing my best, looking good.
My life is a unread book.
Money power within my fist.
Dreams are within my reach.
If only I can purchase my vision.
Like when I was a kid.
As a kid my prince swept me off my feet.
Was Caressed and cuddled and spoilt.
My dreams retold before I sleep.
I slept peacefully cuddling my dreams.
Knowing, I was within the reach, of his powerful arms.
Always there to break my fall.
Growing up was so swell, so much fun.
All my passions like roller coaster ride, up and down.
Teenage trauma like actors on a stage.
Well scripted parts Played.
Dialogues written by likes of Shakespeare in his plays.
Memories kept in my notepad archived.
Password protected from curious minds.
Visiting the saloon as often as I could.
Changing fashion to suite the current style.
Movies, picnics, sleepovers and dates.
Boys will be boys, society said.
I was strong enough to defend myself of their carnal need.
And time passes by defining my fate.
Now I am a grown up woman in full bloom.
My career well defined.
Insecurities in this world of Patriarchy everyday face.
Lewd remarks of macho fashion brace.
Learnt to brave these obnoxious moments day after day.
My moral fiber strengthened beyond grace.
But somewhere, deep within myself there is this void.
Need for love of a different kind.
The warm embrace of arms to comfort me.
Strength of arms to catch my fall.
Nimble fingers to caress and cuddle me.
A kind voice to strengthen me when l am weak.
A gentle voice that can whisper words of love.
A heart that can love me for what I am.
In books and movies have known of this type.
But in real life, I doubt, I can really find, that kind?
If, I should wait..? I don’t mind the wait.
And suffer, ignominy of society.
Do I follow the doctrine of natural selection..?
I don't think so..! My heart and soul have a mind if their own.
And so it shall be.
Categories:
notepad, how i feel, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Yellow sheets, blue lines
red lines even
Categories:
notepad, confusion, introspection, mystery, on
Form:
Free verse
Here lies my notepad, covered in scrawl, my pencil rolls on to the table
I watch as it rolls and suspect it may fall, but it stops at the edge, balanced and stable
The cloth it is on is yellow and blue, sliced into squares of three inches or so
Not every one has the same hue, but it's waterproof cloth and useful for dough
There are mats on the table roughly stacked, big ones and small ones, kind of cyan
and marbled indigo patterns are tracked, round the neatly drawn boarder of coppery tan
A stainless steel trivet spirals beside, bright in the sunshine, it's hurting my eyes
The daffodils in their blue vase abide, the sweetest aroma doth rise to the skies
I sit here on one of five chairs, all wooden and carved, and matching the table
And because my wife cares, each one has a cushion, but you'll not find a label
She made them by hand, and each one is tied, with bows in the corners to stop it from falling
To the carpet that's blue upon which they stand, with delicate swirls and flowers it's crawling
A cuckoo clock hangs on the wall by the window, it's occupant hidden and quiet for now
But when he pops out and looks just below, to one side is a painting we love and how
It shows some puppies who run round a bend, one of them trips and slides onto the frame
Beneath the picture a pipe doth wend, to a radiator that's white, they all look the same
Behind me stands our pride and joy, a dresser of magnificent proportions
top shelf holds a wind up toy, and in the back a silver platter, reflects the room with weird distortions
Here we keep our trinkets and glasses, safe from the danger of falling or dust
And as I write the morning passes, my coffee mug's empty, there are chores to do and I fear I must
PD's dare was "Can you really poet and rhyme everything around you"
Categories:
notepad, places, blue, daffodils,
Form:
Rhyme
If only you knew the struggles I have had,
many were very sad.
My kind and loving dad,
knew I was never bad.
I should have kept a notepad,
about the people that made me mad.
If only I had not worn plaid,
I could now sell it in a for sale ad
Categories:
notepad, dad, daughter, love, people,
Form:
Rhyme
While the light is still shining, I take my notepad to the window sill, and with my ink blue pencil write your name and again..... and again. A whole page with nothing but your name, but that one word tells a story in my heart. Thousands of words I will never publish.
Words that are coloured in every available colour:
Orange for the hoodie you like to wear, and the juice we both like to drink.
Brown for the colour of your eyes, like powerful mocha, paired with dark chocolate, exquisite.
Green for my eyes who see you wherever you are,
Red for your heart and mine,
Blue for the water that separates us.
Purple a colour they gave our love, how susprising.
Yellow for stars and moon and sun, all stellar constellations, when we gaze up, we see the same differently. You and I, the same yet so different.
A whole page with nothing but your name, every time telling me a different story. Once your name belonged to a young boy, to a wild teen, a young man in love, a man with desillusions, a man in love all over again. Your name, every time it writes something different on my page. It tells of fears, laughs and love.
Thousand times your name, a thousand times I rewrite my love on this page, until the moonlight disappears behind a cloud and I need to sleep.
Sweet dreams my love
:)
***
April 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
notepad, boyfriend, happy, love, men,
Form:
Narrative
the first time that we saw him
we were worried for his health
he was sat upon a seat nearby
and talking to himself
his fingernails were broken
like his unconnected speech
and he spoke of really nothing
as he stared towards the beach
the next time that we saw him
he was stroking a stray cat
whose paws were hid beneath its fur
right where the stressed man sat
my wife first smiled then spoke to him
and asked him how things were
he was worried that his wife was ill
and sad he didn't care
the last time that we saw him
his whole head was in his hands
we were sitting on those seats again
across from Margate sands
beside him was a notepad
dated 1921
he stood up from his seat and then
half smiled and then was gone
we read what he had written
on that pad he left behind:
“these words of hope then hoplessness
reflect my state of mind.
~ ~ ~
"On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing."
(T.S. Eliot / "The Waste Land")
Categories:
notepad, beach, mental illness, sea,
Form:
Rhyme