Best Obtuse Poems
An obtuse angle is an angle of greater than 90° and less than 180°. Wiki
I must be looking like an obtuse angle
in my funeral agent's eyes -
an over ninety years old,
(but less than one hundred and eighty)
indigent sunburnt naked geezer
who likes to meditate on the rooftop -
an egregious instance of treachery and immorality.
He is pretty delicate, my funeral agent, though,
when calling to enquire after my health.
- Nausea? - he's asking me with hope.
- Delirium?
- Convulsions?
Insouciance.
Freedom.
Awakening.
I'm sorry to disappoint him.
I like funeral agents:
they mediate between life and death
and consecrate the right to a decent funeral.
Alas, they attach too much importance to acute angles.
15/08/2019
Eight Word Challenge 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
I see them everywhere I go,
Folks who just do not seem to know,
What life is really all about,
They just go on their prescribed route.
Life to these indecisive sloth's,
May as well be wearing loincloth.
Don't question them about the news,
They spout others jargon as true.
Original thought unlikely,
Its like talking to a TV.
They give a blank look and discuss,
The high fares of the city bus.
"What about Iraq" you might ask,
He says, we should finish the task.
"But what about all the dead," we pose,
Oh, yes, that part I do oppose.
"Is America still racist?"
Oh, sure, it is an ugly cyst.
"But we have made so much progress,"
Yes, now racism is much less.
"Katrina, was it Bush's flaw?"
Sure, didn't you see what you saw?
"But doesn't the state share some blame?"
You damn right I think it’s a shame.
"What about the high price of gas?"
Price gauging from the ruling class.
"It isn't supply and demand?"
Oh, yes sure, now I understand.
"How is your job, doing all right?"
I am scaling corporate heights.
"Didn't I hear they will downsize?"
That's supposed to be a surprise.
"How are the wife and the children?"
They are all good even the twins.
"Someone said you got a divorce."
But everyone does in due course.
This man goes through life on the dull,
He has no gift to think and mull.
What he hears he thinks it is true,
He, like so many have no clue.
An ambivalent clown this man,
Everything he hears is his plan.
He is like a pale, docile weed,
From an obtuse egg and dull seed.
Fiddle de dee and me nor comprehend..it's price! it's weight! Then again..
I'm going forlorn so gift this quick, Tucker the Mouse, let's read between!
The day came at the subway and pretending saved none from need of money.
Mother! How could you've known?..
Father, I suppose each to their own!
Fiddle de dee and please understand..it's life! it's paid! Then again..
I'm slowing for more so gift this quick, Tucker the Mouse!
Play your games, find your solitary ways that they may release such prayers unto cats.
Cricket In Times Square, the
Jonathan Michael Conlon
If broken of heart
But mended of mind
Where do I start
If the blind lead the blind
While healing my soul
From all the abuse
Not is my goal
Of being obtuse
Broken of spirit
Healing of soul
We can all feel it
Taking it's toll
Take me alone
Or leave me away
If you are prone
To going astray
If it's happy we are
Then sad we are not
You stay right on par
Not missing your shot
Heart is not broken
Mind is on mend
Of all I have spoken
Can there be no end
Today is like any given day
He puts his clothes on in the same way
Shoes on first
Pants diverse
He just doesn't know what to say
Russell Sivey
You feign contrition
No body for resolve
Absolute you’re dying eyes
Cocoon in silken wrappings
The inner being consoles
Obtuse mother
With her little stranger
Those counterfeit tears
Bellows no more
Lack of compunction
Halo of strife
I didn’t ask
To be born
But I was begat
To this life
The hard core cult was fixing
the flies on the podium.
A snapdragon becomes a cannibal
devouring its own seeds.
Beyond insanity lies the phantom zone
where you hang upside down your faith.
A lunatic threatens to jump
from high tomb –
after excavating the remains of
a forbidden fear.
There was nothing except the
worn rags of a fakir.
SATISH VERMA
Obtuse Thought
David J Walker
It is
out of the nothingness
that everything abide
where
imaginations collide
with
ill-defined reality
it is
of a meaningless
language of the adjective
from the
imaginative
tongue of
no one
in particular
where
everyone is
peculiar
and nothing is as
mundane
as the usual
it is
the obtuse thought
of what is real
and what
is not
though
no one should care
when or what
they might wear
into oblivion
Allow me to introduce
the hermit Hugh
who
I do deduce
felt it within himself
to eschew
an embrace
yet
being obtuse
when on a wild chase
did goose a moose
in the caboose
then a disgrace
but such behaviour
did induce
Bruce
another recluse
to pick up the pace
when playing footsie
under the table
fast and loose
i spy black rat snake
my dog races to my side
not seeing culprit