Best Omit Poems
I cannot say how poems come to be-
from just one thought to full reality.
I cannot say how I hunt down my words
to image themes like nature, flowers, birds.
Or then select a form to fit the theme;
be it free verse, haiku, or rhyming scheme.
Or count the syllables for metered flow;
select the feet of two or more to show
a rhythm, smooth or anapestic dance
to make the words behave or wildly prance.
Or think I'm done, but then see that I'm not;
to then rewrite and add what I forgot.
From just one thought to full reality-
I cannot say how poems come to be.
April 29, 2016
~1st Place~
Contest: Rhyming Couplets
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
Judged: 05/25/2021
~9th Place~
Contest: Preterition
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Judged: 05/17/2016
Preterition is a poetic technique: drawing attention to
something by claiming to omit it, but then really defining it
by actually saying what you claim you cannot say.
Form: Couplet / Iambic Pentameter
With the Biblical accounts of angels
Regarded by some as proof of aliens
Science and religion remain at odds
One says the other has no faith in God
Is there no room in Earth’s family portrait
For both sides to speak, not one view omit
If we believe God created all things
Can’t this be said of other-world beings
No life’s threatened by angels or aliens
So mocking of either just makes no sense
When God created both heaven and Earth
Perhaps a new species of life gave birth
In another part of His Milky Way
And, in friendship, they visit us today
Appearing from the sky basked in white light
Celestial creatures laugh at the sight
Of scientists and theologians
Pitting God’s angels against God’s aliens
And man’s ignorance they may deride
Since angels and aliens thrive side-by-side
Written: June 22, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lovely, two-week luster.
lasting sylvan smell,
lavender, blue, crimson, lilac, pastel
light lifts people's mettle
leading light is a liking illustration.
loamy land leaning of landowners.
Lubed language is silky and crucial.
land lightly in people's whimsy
locution of literalism logicality
lasts for a lengthy time, if not longer.
Lapis lazuli lanes link labor.
limitless loop layout lends a look of light.
lost from landscape left walls in flux.
looking for love losing out
learning to love may launch
letting love lurch may be a loom.
lift by living a loving life.
lasting love is pulled to lead
Living every day, listening to the wild.
learning life lessons by laughing
lifting lethargy, limiting lemons
loving our Lord, love one another.
love talk leaks recall, lie seal.
loving recalls rekindle love's loyalty.
lips locked, long-lasting.
long, salty lacking friends.
love, latch loss, live for those who care.
looking for a soulmate alone looks cruel.
limping life’s path, listening to voices.
lambaste the bamboozled mind.
laugh, scream your feelings loud
Lustrous eyes reveal loneliness.
lost will, loyalty remains.
lockets and lullabies depict it.
lyrics praise long, dull winters alone.
lacking friendship, grieve less.
Licensed to fix wrongs, omit loopholes of lies.
lure rivals to confess, and learn their lies.
This Is No Picnic
We packed up the grill and my uncle took us to the lake
I was hoping for a burger, maybe even a juicy steak
Amazed was I to see the cooler packed with frozen shrimp
What kind of picnic is this? My smiling lips went limp
“Stop pouting,” said Uncle Tim, tossing me a fishing pole
“This here lake is filled with huge trout. It’s the best fishing hole”
If we wanted to eat lunch, first we would have to catch it
Seems his picnic invitation this info did omit
The hours dragged past and we hadn’t had a single bite
Our clan was growing hungry and grandma seemed uptight
So she took charge and lit the grill in spite of Tim's protests
But he could not do battle with her so he acquiesced
Mosquitoes were drawn to scents of shrimp on the barbecue
Then a horde of hornets found our camp and buzzed on through
We screamed and scurried about to avoid their bites and stings
Till Uncle Tim doused the grill and took us to Burger King
He ordered burgers to go, placed a blanket on our lawn
Till this day we still laugh at the antics we’d undergone
Written for Carol Brown's Picnic Time contest
With respect there’s nothing to omit
saying I love you within these walls,
everything I write weaves in orbit
whilst time in haste reminds me and calls.
To you with eyes so bright hopes convey
confident from my heart words will pour,
oh gypsy in rags my poem will say
it’s not what I see that’s only the door.
Your pins and needles adorn your face
your hair the colour of liquid grass,
your universe of hard knocks your grace
places you for me top of the class.
If only to live this life again
staple us together lord, amen.
© Harry J Horsman 2014
Rancid lemon rope squeeze
around a rotten tomato neck tie,
crooked odor bow hanging out of place
Acid reflux raisin tax bleed;
dripping spoiled, milquetoast lies
out a sour-twisted, prune puckered face
Tart tongue
sulfur speak disorderly,
dirty saliva fingers in the propaganda pie
Such a bowel movement disgrace
Bottom rung
bung opening vault key
Onion groans ... chittering fermented cry
Boot-licking patent leather taste
Smells like government to me,
corrupt as can be
Dung pile of voter promises,
sits atop a pungent idol landfill heap,
swarming with stinking lip flies
Smells just like reeking government gluttony —
O beast behavior ...
swine odor, foul as can be
Swindle spit vapors perfidiously wafting,
kindle the vomit pit
Sewage waste material ash labors fanning,
can you stand the stench of it?
Smells like dead paper figurehead
government to me
Bait-and-switch fishy business ...
close your eyes,
what does your nose see?
Tainted meat polltry speech,
pluck the purse feathers
off the cable perched pigeon bodies
Smells like government
is about to make a putrid, baked-in story
Made up facts ... maggot video feed
Stale, bureaucratic policy hard rolls
warmed over twice
Buttered late with expired date lies
Served with a cloying cup
of steaming sound-byte coffee:
Substitute truth ... false sugary
Toilet swirl coffin cake,
gutter floss the oral cavity
Bad breath vows made,
garbage hope nobody needs
Government smells
like a morgue dog in heat
Very omit cadaver, obit disgusting
Smells like
a pot of burning bones
on a boil
Bottom lip scum
rising to the top
On a truthful breath: Let me tell you,
it stinks an awful lot
Smells like scurvy government to me,
corrupt as base bribery can be
The lobbyist rats are scarfing down
the moldy green government cheese,
so silver spoon tongue greedily
Nothing like some regurgitated split-pea pleas
to hit the decaying belly ballot gastric spot
Can you make a federal case
of this rank-and-foul flatulent republic rot?
My Heart Shall Not Fade In Crying Red Rust
I shall beat down the walls of your dungeon
And smash its power into fading dust.
My spirit by you will not be bludgeoned,
My heart shall not fade in crying red rust!
Once, I saw such goodness in your sweet soul.
Those years have all vanished into the dark,
Where raging waters drown love in its roll
Madness of your hate shows to be so stark!
I still long for that soft gentle touch
With the press of those sexy luscious lips.
This heart cries deep, in loving you so much
Despite cut of claws on your fingertips!
I can never change pains of fate and time.
Yet I cry my loss in poetic rhyme!
R.J. Lindley
Sept 23rd, 1976
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 116
Note- Old poem, slightly edited today to improve its form
and omit sad and deeply personal messages vented at the time of
its creation. Although its extra verses (altered or cut) to bring
down to brevity of the sonnet form were very good, I will keep
the original intact in my private writes, for my children to read
only after I depart this existence.
Step right up it's all the rage,
it's the dawning of a brand new age.
The wonderful world of Iron and Clay,
finally our time to shine, let's not delay.
Come get in line and get your chip,
you'll have the world at your fingertips.
Head or hand it's all up to you,
you'll be a brand new man, when we're through.
No more need for cards or cash to buy or sell,
just scan your head or hand, it will never fail.
With this tiny implant things will change,
the possibilities are just insane.
The whole world now we'll be able to track,
no lost children and that's a good fact.
Crime will plummet under this global plan,
it's hard to break the law without head or hand.
The medical wonders, too many to count,
with these devices your health is paramount.
We will be able to fix failing organs and missing limbs,
with electronic replacements built within.
All these things will extend your life,
a fountain of youth and no more strife.
All of your hand held devices at your command,
it's all in one, right in your head or hand.
Now this new age comes with faith as well,
no more talk about heaven or hell.
We will have heaven on earth it's true,
a regular garden of eden for me and you.
All religions and denominations will be as one,
a universal faith and a God that's fun.
Fire and brimstone will be no more,
come to our temple through the ecumenical door.
Your sins will be forgiven before they are committed,
the things in the Bible you don't like, just omit it.
We want the church to finally conform,
to this wonderful world and all its norms.
Our worship will be without constraints,
do what feels good, we are all saints.
No dress code needed in this place,
in fact nude is considered in good taste.
Political correction will be our doctrine,
no more punishment for those who sin.
We will not worship things unseen,
but an idol once thought to be obscene.
Now I think we've sold you on our vision,
to come together as one, without derision.
Man has finally reached the summit
and become a god, that even God could covet.
" Beaware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's
clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. " - Matthew 7:15
He prepares for a carefree day,
for jovial conversations,
for cheerful smiles and lively faces.
He’s a young boy. Just like me.
My mind swells with ceaseless terror.
I plead in my prayers
that our lives shall prolong further than this day.
I prepare for the grand attack.
He ambles through the village.
Laughter escapes the vivid frames
of him and his companions.
Not an ache in his limbs.
Not a burden in his heart.
I move anxiously ahead.
My feet without ease omit swarms of bodies.
Some still emit shallow breaths.
Inadequate sounds escape their mouths
and their eyes writhe.
For him, time passes swiftly
and a late train is the crisis of the day.
In that day, not a thought does he spare
for his fellow human beings.
For our sacrifice he doesn’t care.
As for me, time stays almost still.
I’m imprisoned in a time warp of pain.
My best friend clings off the un-cut wire
and blazing bullets glide through
the torn flesh of his chest.
He lies in his bed.
Wrapped around him a soft blanket,
under his head a warm pillow.
He’s a young boy. Just like me.
But only the moist earth serves me as a cushion,
and only the bodies of my lifeless friends
serve me as heat.
I lie in a shell-hole; I lie in my grave.
When the gut says no; know that it’s forbidden
When heart repels the idea is forbidden
When mind think bad it is indeed forbidden!
When eyes look with hatred it is forbidden
When ears hears wrongs it is forbidden
When ways become to forbid one
Forbid the evil that tempts your innocents
Drift from the darkness that follows your shadow
Forbidden is the soul that plans nothing but evil
Get rid of the weeds that cripple your seeds
Stumble the block that rumble your rock
Bid to twist the bitterness into better
Forbid to be bedridden before you get ridden
Get rid when it last to let you lust
Forbid when it posses you and make you obsessed
Forbidden is the goal that aims nothing but hole
Forbid friends that frame your failure
Delete the deeds of those who deal with your defeat
Abide on your bid to forbid their beard
Reboot to release the strength to forbid the failure
Abort the abnormals to assess their assets
Research and rehearse before you react
Repent to repatriate their repel
But never regret to regulate their replay
Their bid is to beat you in your own game
Hence bid to forbid their forbidden bid
Best business needs the bold bid that bet the rest
Wrap and wrestle their wreck and leave them wrecked
Believe that a bit of bid that they get can get rid of your reach and forbid you to abide but leave you to abstain
From the best bid you are about to obtain
Be obliged to your objective to get rid of the obstacles
That forbids you to obstruct your oppressors
Don’t omit to offer your official bid that beat the beast
That bullies your battle
Bold on to build the gold that hold all the folk in a fold
Until they mould to mourn their forbidden moves
Remain content to your bid just to lift yourself a bit
And see the rest getting forbidden to face you!
Ghostly, my echoes are moans floating in the air
like muffled murmurs carried on the wind
or rippling waves across a calm sea.
If I'd been singing lyrics to a sad melody,
I'd hear the haunting words until they'd fade away.
Where they end up, I'll never know.
How far do echoes go traveling from here to there?
Maybe they scatter through distant hills,
whispering as if they're telling my secrets.
Gossips, repeating in the timbre of my voice...
always in a rush to run away from me,
like children playing hide and seek
who cannot hush to keep me from finding them.
Even now I still hear my words in refrain.
Echoes are mirrored images of my voice
but in reverberating sounds instead of visions.
Reflective and repetitive,
with the ability to mimic my words,
only speaking what's been spoken.
I wish they had the ability
to filter words I'd rather they omit.
Things that in anger, I scream and shout.
I doubt the reality of that.
Only echoes in the Twilight Zone
would be so bizarre to be able
to manipulate my voice with one of their own.
Strange, how much louder they sound in the dark.
Can anybody tell me how they get over that synonym,
Missing.
I am unable to regulate my soul,
It doomed my thoughts, defeated
my entity, dictated the pleasure's
off me, to feel the Moment.
Missing, is my unique enemy,
has haunted me since my
children left our home,
dominated my shadow,
conditioned my brain,
provoked my tears,
drowned my vitality,
created my vindictiveness,
refusing to be optimistic,
allowing it to torment my
darkness, dictated my pain,
captivated by this unique
synonym, I sense it's tantrum
everywhere, how can I omit it?
anyone can help me? it was always
there, but I was not helpless,
I am today. Now
I was born with a heart, I cannot find it,
I am a bought slave with my own purchases,
how weak have I gone down the ladder lately,
how desperate have I allowed to be taken
for granted by the word Missing, why?
is aging doing all that? have I become
so wounded by giving up my strength.
When I was younger, I had ways to accept,
to understand, to not allow it to take over
my few remaining years, I was healthy,
strong, had aims, was in love, made love,
I used to go out, now left alone.
Deserted.
I used to visit my children, I felt alive,
healthy, even old it did not affect me
the way it does those days, loosing hope
of wanting to survive, it engulfs all my
existence, become so much stronger than
I am.
Missing, I am its slave, worst, intentionally,
allowing it to stab me, it blocks all my doors,
it imprisons me. I am in prison. Now.
Can someone come and get me?
I am not drinking, cooking, put make up,
dress or go out, paralyzed, under its feet,
no life, I beg like a beggar, I get no answer,
it destroyed my brain, my thoughts, my surreal,
destroyed all my tissues,
negative thoughts are born nowadays,
weakened my system, my strength
is drained.
I am a mother, Oh universe, it leaves me
breathless, weak, make me strong, I am hungry,
feed me, I am judgmental, forgive me, no patience,
angry, I am destroying myself, carry me to the ocean,
drown me intentionally before I become selfish,
I stopped being there for my children, I am helpless,
I need help.
It destroyed who I was, made me despise who I am,
Now.
Therese Bacha
31/5/2013
Dear Music
Dear Music- would you marry drum?
for it will be beautiful when played under the setting sun
How would you love to be tomorrow’S heading
will you invite Guitar to your wedding?
From million miles your melodies be heard
As soothing as the morning hymn of a mocking bird
Since happiness can only befriend you
For you’re surely beautiful and true.
Music- queen of the ballroom
You Indeed are dominator of the mind In vexed volume
Could you stop the violence- happening a thousand mile
Sole Perceiver of peace - thence thou shalt smile
For you are one of the timbers of earth
As every soul knows you since birth
Only you can manipulate the choice-less
And can also speak for the voiceless.
Music- should you need a king,
Who will endear you with a diamond ring
You can think of Michael Jackson and Bob Marley,
From your talented basement to your lobby,
And even to you, Lucky Dube, and John Lennon were dear,
among the spot earners on the isle of the phenomena
As they, the aforementioned had no limit of valence
Yet they lived and died under our pitiful surveillance.
Dear Music- I wish you could walk for the disabled
For they indeed are hopeless- and subtracted from the fabled
You mesmerized, thence emphasized the beautiful life
But don’t the laborer deserve a break from the hunger and strife
I admire your stance to point out the lies- that demised many dreams
However I’m disgusted by the ignorance of the poor’s screams
Music- you define immortality- yet omit the underlying reality
I wish a few will see beyond generalization one day- and preserve equality-
Life and death consequences
by two choices have recompenses
omitting natural or spiritual senses
renew the former omit death dispenses
Death’s protrusion
has an all inclusion
recompensing illusion
an Armageddon conclusion
Life has an exclusion
written for purpose of infusion
of private capital preclusion
`t is of Love’s transfusion...
consequences,
recompenses
of serpent senses
then death dispenses
sharks teeth conclusions
of infusions
`t is illusions
of protrusions
playful Dolphin exclusion
insights infusion
removes teeth of confusion
reality of illusions protrusion...
consequences,
recompenses...
senses,
dispenses...
Selah
Christmas trees made of flimsy plastic
No thanks, Santa, I'm not that drastic
Predecorated trees? No!
Don't want a Christmas "to go"
This tinsel nightmare is fantastic
Salvation Army man rings his bell
Hoping apathy he will dispel
The reason for this season
To forget seems like treason
As we watch store owners pockets swell
The three wise men had it right you see
Worshipped a babe, not a tinsel tree
Omit the nativity
And create a travesty
Commercialized Christmas: Not for me
Entry for the Commercialized Holiday Humor contest