Best Omitting Poems
I cannot tolerate the ones with haloed head
Who boast of their achievements, put on an act instead.
I cannot tolerate the perfect, always right
Who claim to love their neighbour omitting black or white.
I cannot tolerate the ones who share your pack
Pretending to be helpful then stab you in the back.
I cannot tolerate the friends who pick your brain
Intent on infiltration determined to make gain.
I cannot tolerate the types who wish you well
They swear to loyal virtue, but then they kiss and tell.
I cannot tolerate the false and double-faced
They are the parasitic, their tongue with poison laced.
I cannot tolerate the guys who look for fights
They cause much harm while pleading the law to back their rights.
I cannot tolerate the tempters with their faith
They are the instigators, the ones who love to hate.*
They cannot tolerate my face, but I’m alright
My aim is to expose them, oppose with all my might.
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* Here I am referring to those who commit crimes and injustices in
the name of religion.
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16th June 2014
Contest: Tolerance
Sponsor Freddie Vee
Categories:
omitting, abuse, betrayal, racism,
Form:
Rhyme
These are the times
I sit and ponder at the beauty of it all,
amazed at the bounty of my blessings
Overburdened with foolish reminiscing
For the time has come for the present...
...life's never ending event
I admire the lovely wetness
of unexpected rain
Walnuts that look like human brains
Trees that sprout out of elk heads
to battle others for honor and for mates
I marvel at the convenience
of the kangaroo's curious pouch
The patience of eagles lying in wait
Chameleons (that rainbow reptilian)
shifting colors at a glance,
occasionally russet (at times van Gogh)
The industry of ants,
single file,
row
by row,
by row,
(not one little rebel)
The diamond skin of a pineapple,
amber juices aburst with sweetness
(and even the librarians in their neatness)
...not one little thing is worthy of omitting
For this bird bath of a planet
is positively brimming
with secrets to behold
Like the fangs of fire foxes
that tear into flesh
(but the story doesn't end there,
lest we forget)
For the pricks of a porcupine
are there to remind you,
regardless of strength or size
In the dark every creature
has the same set
of glowing eyes
The sunniest of marigolds
that brings the promise of summer fun
Just as much as the paper I like to fold
Cranes perched on the windowsill
(longing to fly just like the real ones)
There is magic everywhere you go,
no need to reinvent or fantasize
about some hidden secret or treasure trove
I can see the Pacific in your eyes
The Milky Way in a nautilus shell
(you can see it if you're looking,
you can hear it if you're blind)
Just sit a spell and listen
to the eternal song
of the infinite mind
Or catch a glimpse of April fireflies
(the misfit stars that got left behind)
So keep your gold, Leprechauns
Mermaids of old with your siren songs
serenade some other hapless chap
to the edge of the sea (and never look back)
And Genie of the Lamp, keep the other two,
for here's my first and only wish:
I want the earth, and everything that's in it...
...just as it is
PS. Inspired by the poetry of Suzanne Delaney and Carol Mays in their wonderful book, Poems of Nature, Enchantment and Mystery.
Categories:
omitting, animal, appreciation, beauty, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
Scorching hot sun..
Sun rays omitting intense heat
The flames of fireballs ignite..
Desert air ..
So dry and still..
A cactus thrives in desert paradise..
Sands of time..
Heat soars to the sky by day..
By night the heat plummets..
Evaporates ..
Moonlight shines..
Drenched in coldness
Chilled air and a frosted moon..
Extremities exist..
Drastic changes occur..
Sands of time..
Time is constant and flowing..
Never ending..
Astronomical unlimited grains of sand in the desert..
A wonderland of vastness and abundance..
Like the grains of desert sand..
Infinity awaits us all..
As we are eternally divine..
Categories:
omitting, encouraging, endurance, nature, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
B.C. has been the acronym applied
for all events before out dear Lord’s birth.
Who knew another god would change the tide
and wield a power of great global worth?
To what do I refer? Or have you guessed
the god to which we each now bow our head?
No matter our religion, all are blessed
with this thing vital as our daily bread.
It took away the jobs of common men
and gave new jobs to geeks. You now must know
this god of our new world, who loves all sin
as well as good, has nothing it won’t show!
I think “Before Computers” seems a way
to say A.D. became a new B.C.
Now things have changed so much that I would say
that my own past is ancient history!
Before Computers, life was not so fast,
and even in the 90’s I could keep
abreast of news and make my free time last.
High-tech today both makes me thrill and weep!
More time for family, a slowed down pace,
more time for God; I weep for things we’ve lost.
yet thrilled am I to see the human race
now bonding. But we do it at what cost?
Our children growing lazy, rude, and fat
and less connected, addicts to a phone!
To play outside. . . . Do you remember that?
B.C. meant doing more things on your own.
With jobs, our kids and all our lives at stake,
we now embrace our new computer age,.
Omitting our true God is the mistake
that might well do us in; we must be sage!
Recall the values getting left behind
as into this computer age we cruise.
Look back to decades past and you will find
B.C. had greatness that we must not lose.
For Deb's Contest (B.C. = Before Computers)
Categories:
omitting, computer-internet, god, time, computer,
Form:
Quatrain
Filling minds with symphony of truth
Opening them with catalytic mystery of light
Living waters flowing like angels’ robes
Lifting inspirations into the depths of brilliance
Omitting your hopeful eyes to the skies
Without blemish and aching to purify
You are so talented and true
Outstanding words that cringe in harmonies
Under and over and back to the earth
Revealing an answer that was once nothing
Drenched and battered in sweets for a recipe
Rocking and popping in slivered ecstasy
Enveloping us all in the highest reverie
Aiming at the heavens where you ought to be
My heart pours out to all of you
Someone believes in you—I do
And though the dark is soon to come
Never fear, for light will always fold it over
Dimming away into resonate and pure master-peace
No, you are free in this glistened life
Everlasting like the holy beings in perfect-pitched song
Vindicating your cause and all others to follow
Emptied only to be filled yet again
Ransomed in unremitting constancy
Give into the beauty of recycled rhapsody
Interlaced with supportive strands of genius
Veiled in humility and never lacking agility
Enshrouded with the benevolent shine of generations
Understand that you will succeed in succulent growth
People will only fail you if you give them reason to
You are an incredible addition to a lively creation
Onward the music will lead you on
Universally swirling and curling with mastered energy
Veering out and fluttering in perfect sight and sound
Eventually reaching out to the remaining shadows
Get up and look at the world around you
Obvious beauty surrounds every shady corner
Take what you may and create your renovating legacy
The symphony is playing for you
Helping you along the smooth sands of life
Intertwined in fiery drive and sifting scents
Surrounded by the resonance—and a stranger’s global confidence
-inspired by the one and only Anthony Snape-
Categories:
omitting, friendship, happiness, hope, life,
Form:
Acrostic
("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)
1. The Buddhist Priest
This was the day of the White Crane.
I was walking from Kyoto to fair Kobe,
and not omitting a single shrine,
now nearing the end of my three-day journey.
The morning had taken on a hue
of pastel. I reached a promontory, above the sea
with curious roadside ancestor tombs,
slabs of coarse stone. The wind
and waves, so restless, had done their work,
scarring and scarifying the soft chalk,
leaving strange columns, each capped
by its crude ashlar memorial tablet.
As I prayed to the dead, my bare head
was lifted. My gaze (no longer mine)
was drawn towards a tall pine,
standing alone, its trunk bifurcated.
That tree, I felt somehow, had waited
for me to come. Looking about me,
I saw a peasant, short and stoutly
built. "Tell me about the tree,"
I said. "And what's that poetry?
That hanging plaque?" He said I'd found
something special. "This is hallowed ground,"
he muttered. "Matsukaze and her sister
Murasame mourned here, Mister.
Then Heaven took pity on the two brine
girls, and turned them into this pine."
By mortal things, we should set no store:
but hearing this, I wanted to know more.
Categories:
omitting, myth, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Why am I missing you in Wyomissing
In Wyomissing where WiFi waves warp Whitman's words
I'm wiki-wishing scrolling through digitized déjà vu
Mississippi .mp3s Mississauga .gifs Missy Elliott remixes
Mishmash of missed misplaced hyperlinks missing persons
Y-chromosomes yearning in Wyomissing DNA double-helix twisting
Your LOLs a lyric lipslock softly #hissing history rewriting
From Issigeac to Missouri's twisted Twitter feed Insta-stories fleeting
Absence makes the heart grow fonder indeed™ (patent pending).
Persisting thoughts insistent as pop-up ads spam in the place where I lived
Roaming data plans streaming memes gone mad mad libs mad love
Enlisting Siri Alexa cosmic GPS Googling "how to forget ex"
To where your heart might choose to compress decompress or stay perplexed
In Wyomissing I sigh and I sit bit by bit byte by byte
Sky vast as the cloud no storage limit limit does not exist
Committing to journey's jumbled algorithm rhythmic logarithm
To find you love my heart's lost rhythm arrhythmia of the soul
Dismissing doubts like spam keep on insisting
Our love's a flame forever resisting
Extinguishing persisting through trials by fire(wall)
Never desisting crossing all area codes morse codes zip codes
Twisting paths and listless constellations celestial navigation
I'll travel far ignoring Terms & Conditions contractual obligations
Transmitting love my heart's submitting committing omitting
To find you no more words omitting remitting or permitting
So here I am in Wyomissing's embrace interface about-face
Memories of kisses a lingering trace copy-paste ctrl+z can't erase
From Mississippi to Issigeac's charm disarm false alarm
I'll roam the world semantics disarm semantic fields semantic yields
But as I search for truth's revelation information overload
A twist so dark beyond explanation quantum entanglement implodes
In my quest I find a terse text next perplexed hex
From you my love "New phone who dis" Dismissed missed kissed-off list.
In Wyomissing where dreams unravel travel advisory
I learned the truth your heart's new travel Marvel universe multiverse
My heart now shattered can't keep dismissing missing hissing
Y R U ghosting me in Wyomissing Existing in digital abyss sing
Y am I missing U in Wyomissing?
Categories:
omitting, heartbroken, lonely, loss, love,
Form:
Lyric
The Spirit of Christmas..
Pure white delicate snowflakes..
Falling from the sky..
Upon the sky snowflakes sway..
They dance merrily..
Winds embrace the snow..
Together they both create a vision of exquisite beauty..
The spirit of Christmas fills the air..
A sip of eggnog..
Sweetness of baked ginger bread cookies..
Spreading love and cheer..
Reflections of Christmas..
Give unto others..
Share the magic..
Share what one lacks..
Deliver gratitude and kindness..
The Spirit of Christmas ..
A choir of heavenly angels singing..
The harmonious sounds of Christmas carols..
Sprinkles of magic surrounds..
Omitting joyous love
Spreading Inner peace..
In unity we celebrate the birth of Jesus..
Categories:
omitting, celebration, christmas, inspirational, love,
Form:
Free verse
Written: October 25, 2023, For Craig Cornish Contest
-------------------------------------------
The world is wailing with wantonness
every time feelings and fists collide
crooning in the midst of the earthquake
akin to lamenting the demise of love
Watch as the world catches fire
screams will resound across the ether
an eternal chorus of shrieking, life is dead
All I view are fiery banners stop signs, and rage
In the quest for a break, shoes are static.
We bore witness to the disasters
the dreadful symptoms of spiritual demise
as in the empire of the Egyptian pharaohs
We elevate our sights instead of trusting
sensing a basis for praise toward God
some steel their souls to truth, omitting the warning signs.
Stop signs create a dilemma
Someone's whistle is blaring
shaped to ponder on the best action film
the scene where the hero tragically dies.
Categories:
omitting, analogy, angst, bereavement, change,
Form:
Free verse
I know the fact that it's Facebook
it somehow gives you an excuse not to abide
by even the most basic of grammar rules.
And I admit seeing an apostrophe
where it's not needed kills me a bit inside.
But, alas, I will restrain myself
from starting any spelling duels.
The truth is you just wouldn't win,
not even the slightest chance.
And even if you did there would be
no satisfaction on your behalf.
It would always come back again
to the same redundant dance;
me - taking the time to voice my message clearly,
and you having a big hair-pulling laugh.
It's true, there is a great deal of time saved,
cutting the words short and omitting punctuation.
But by God it's like throwing away
years of hard-earned education!
I wouldn't mind writing like a five-year-old
(aside from the fact I'm almost twenty).
Some say it's nothing to fret about -
isn't the rest of the world's problems plenty?
The fact is writing is one of the few things
I can keep in order
(Lord knows my room doesn't fit the bill!).
So if by chance you find yourself,
staring zombie-eyed Into a computer screen,
with extra time to fill,
I hope that you will remember your I before E except C's,
that you will recall the three different there's of English.
Maybe someday you too will join
this small club of Grammar Nazis.
Perhaps you'll find there's more to words
than just ink on a page...
For you have the whole world within you,
first step is too climb out of your cage.
Categories:
omitting, education, humorous, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Another voice enters this information spectrum, omitting dictation unheard by anyone. Lost echoes repeating into thinned obscurity, forever unknown. But your words exist, some indefinitely; your original waves undulate through air from experience. Vocalize innermost thoughts offered by U.
Based on a poetry form created by David Williams: start by using a word beginning with 'A' then use a consonant, 'E' then a con., 'I' then a con., 'O' then a con., 'U' then a con.; repeat.
Categories:
omitting, introspection, memory, words,
Form:
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
Categories:
omitting, love, death, death,
Form:
Rhyme
I Am /A Dandelion
I stem out to a beautiful flower dressed in yellow,
with a milky latex that runs in my veins.
Omitting a fragrant perfume of my own.
As the night falls, I close and slumber till sunrise.
Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly,
I’m standing tall with downy white feathery fine hair.
As a gentle cool breeze whispers with a kiss,
I surrender my fruit to fall into its hands.
Swept away and drifts like little propellers with the wind,
like a thief in the night whisking them away over long distances
Out to their lovers as they mate with the rich brown soil.
©By: Eve Roper 5/3/2015
Dandelion late Middle English: from French dent-de-lion, translation of medieval Latin dens leonis ‘lion's tooth’ (because of the jagged shape of the leaves).
Contest : Picture Yourself as a Flower!
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Categories:
omitting, flower,
Form:
Free verse
O - Olive that was her first name
O - Oli, eloi, bloss her other names
O - Overall, any of these is acceptable
O - Only she prefers most her one name
L - Life come upon her by 13th of August
L - Living with her grandparents first
L - Learning she always want to pursue
L - Ladder of life she jolly began to do
I - Interested to music, books and stories
I - Indefinite reading even old histories
I - In the kitchen, She loves cooking
I - In anywhere, She is there singing
V - Victor she always strives to be
V - Vices and violence against is she
V - Vivaciously aiming to live life fullest
V - Vigorously stepping to life's hurdles
E - Each one she shares a smile
E - Even though she feels bad inside
E - Endearing, she was always told
E - Eager to explore things untold
E - Essence of a woman, she beholds
E - Extremes she tries to balance and hold
E - Even if skin and beauty folds
E - Embroidered life by God, she is called
L - Looking to be channel of blessing
L - Listening before understanding
L - Loaded not with a good tall
L - Limitless to achieve a goal
O - Onwards she always go
O - On sides and on back she forgoes
O - Opting not to forget all good
O - Omitting not of gratitude
I - In God, she always trusts
I - In real love, she believes
I - In singing and writings, she frees
I - Into her family, she spree
S - Small girl she may seem
S - Smartness, she projects not hid
S - Sweats she doesn't care to pour
S - Sincere heart that she devours
A - Adoring God, forever she will
A - Acceleration she will deal
A - Antidote to her woos is love
A - Above all is her one living God...
(c)olive_eloisa
10:57 am
March 24, 2014
Categories:
omitting, faith, feelings, imagery, inspiration,
Form:
Acrostic
Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the hands of the artists of our day. Why can't we have any one quality of poetry we choose by itself? We can have in thought. Then it will go hard if we can't in practice. Our lives for it.
Granted no one but a humanist much cares how sound a poem is if it is only a sound. The sound is the gold in the ore. Then we will have the sound out alone and dispense with the inessential. We do till we make the discovery that the object in writing poetry is to make all poems sound as different as possible from each other, and the resources for that of vowels, consonants, punctuation, syntax, words, sentences, metre are not enough. We need the help of context- meaning-subject matter. That is the greatest help towards variety. All that can be done with words is soon told. So also with metres-particularly in our language where there are virtually but two, strict iambic and loose iambic. The ancients with many were still poor if they depended on metres for all tune. It is painful to watch our sprung-rhythmists straining at the point of omitting one short from a foot for relief from monotony. The possibilities for tune from the dramatic tones of meaning struck across the rigidity of a limited metre are endless. And we are back in poetry as merely one more art of having something to say, sound or unsound. Probably better if sound, because deeper and from wider experience.
Then there is this wildness whereof it is spoken. Granted again that it has an equal claim with sound to being a poem's better half. If it is a wild tune, it is a Poem. Our problem then is, as modern abstractionists, to have the wildness pure; to be wild with nothing to be wild about. We bring up as aberrationists, giving way to undirected associations and kicking ourselves from one chance suggestion to another in all directions as of a hot afternoon in the life of a grasshopper. Theme alone can steady us down. just as the first mystery was how a poem could have a tune in such a straightness as metre, so the second mystery is how a poem can have wildness and at the same time a subject that shall be fulfilled.
Categories:
omitting, art, education,
Form:
Madah