Best Personalized Poems
Captive damsel of creative-writing programs,
Personalized, eulogized job of small groups,
The frenetic activities handy to very few,
Poetry now belongs to a subculture hew.
We have accredited professional poets,
Creative writing teachers at all levels,
Composing computer- created poetry,
Creating illusion of the Golden Age artistry.
These professional poets have secured
Their own niches in the academic world,
They cry over the spilt milk like jackals
Snarling over a dried-up well with no aims.
Quantitative work is guaranteed success,
Accuracy, meaning, technique matters less.
=================================
Fourth place winner
Contest: Poetry for poetry's sake of Paula Swanson
Quo Vadis is a Latin phrase meaning "Where going"
You have given me a gift
It is always wrapped
I perpetually open it with a smile
It is a never empty tin of freshly baked cookies
It is an elixir to fill my empty cup
even when it is not my birthday.
You have given me a gift
I have not earned it, but I can cash it in anytime I need it
You have dug deep and found
The very thing that touches my soul.
It is the perfectly personalized present
It tells me you know me and you care
It is both old and new
like us.
I have often come with shoulders slumped
To drink from this well
And have walked away with a song in my heart
When I look at this gift I see your face
When I ponder its rhythms I hear your voice
I have drunk briefly from the spring of eternal youth
I have been fed manna that does not spoil
My heart is refreshed over and over
For you have written me
a poem.
Faved PoetrySoup poems, I've many a favorite
Are such a treasure trove of Joy
Each one so exquisite
I've many, but imagine, I'll have many, many more
I wish they could be bound in books
Purchased through a PS store!
Leaves of golden artistry of poets that I love
A little bit of heaven on earth
Like sunshine from above
I thought to name these poets, that have written
On my heart, but that would take
Me quite some time,
I don't know where to start!
Suffice to say, I'm blessed, I love this precious group
What treasure troves of blessings
These poems on PoetrySoup
Keep shining, keep on writing, your voices like a song
The aroma of sweet fragrance
Gently stirring all day long
For each new poem that's written, a gem within the sea
A gift of golden treasure is your
Precious poetry
My image shared is just a 'dream' book of sorts, an
idea of how it may be easy for PS to create a personalized
book of our favorite file poems from our dear PS poets.
My mother had an old empty scrapbook I inherited,
I applied the gold lettering just for an example.
Maybe Team Poetry could brainstorm an idea of this
sort, I think it would be wonderful. Anyway, just a thought.
<3
Every one’s got an opinion
We are entitled to our views
But, we won’t all agree the
Difference often times are
Huge
Somehow the simpler the
Problem harder the
Moot
Layering instead of issues
Open wounds
And personalized attacks
Are used
A point of contention is
The deliberate disguising of
The truth
Distorting facts
Figures assembled by rote
Really there are a lot to be
Desired
Having regards to the distance
Between what had first prompt
The opinion
And the reasoning that led
To this irrational tirade and suit
A stuck in a bog like situation
Ensue
Like the dreaded dream state
Being awake and can’t speak
Move or do what you want to
While the root rot
The debates rambles on
Unable to; save quip,
Get a grip on solid ground
Consensus pursuit
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
Whenever you feel lost
Or when you feel to reset
To look back and feel refreshed
Click the “Home” key
It’ll open the door to inner prosperity
A heart filled with joy
For there’s no place like home
When you feel like something is missing
Or you are missing something
You look through the woods and see a forest
You finally decide to run away, don’t!
Click the “insert” key
It’ll make space for a missing heart
A missing soul
Or a missing leter
Then the letter makes a word whole
No need to panic, insert!
Each time you feel you wronged someone
Or there’s something making you look or feel terrible
There’s a key called “backspace”
You can hit it way back to fix all the wrongs
All the mistakes that find you mistaken
Forgiveness is such a key, no, backspace
A sure way to fix things
Anytime you foresee danger
Trouble lingering ahead, impatiently waiting for you
You know you’ll lose it
You’ll lose her, him, them
Click on “delete”
It’s there to save you from the bad
It’s not gonna happen
It’s never gonna happen
Then you know you are safe
When you feel squashed and need to make way...
When things are compressed and you need to breathe
Take a walk and visit “space”
Bet you’ll need this guy as often
Might become great friends
Don’t be afraid, you need air
And space is there to give it to you
Sometimes, in order to go forward
One needs to reflect
See what you have, or have had
Some highlights or flashbacks
Can go a long way
You need “PrtSc”, print screen in full
To observe for you what you cannot
Through the naked eye of ignorance
Reflect, it’s a good part of moving on
One wouldn’t argue that
Now and again you could use a “tab”
From one place to another
Hop forward, this is a slow train
Why not adjust and keep the format most suitable for you
This is your life, take a tab!
Whatever life throws at you
You know you are the only one
Who is in possession of this special key
It’s a key to happiness
It’ll transport you to any place you ever want to go
It’ll give you anything you need, and want
This key has a name, like no other
“Ctrl” is the only key you can ever use whenever you want to
It’s never far from you
It’s on both your right and your left hand side
Always reachable, always available
You should try it sometimes
Life can be computerized
But what if a computer is personalized?
Mapping my final ride to the other side
Oh how I want to feel like I have arrived
Seeing so many good reasons why I have survived
Like I have climbed the highest mountain totally revived
Believing in myself knowing I will not be denied
Dreaming of my God that makes me so satisfied
Doing what I had to do so I didn't collide
With the love waiting on the other side
Only God gets to decide
Who gets to go on this amazing ride
Enjoying going to heaven where God resides
Feeling like I belong rested very much alive
Applying myself being careful not to divide
My faith that makes it all so personalized
With his wisdom and understanding he provides
His truth in the bible makes us unified
Oh how I want to make sure I realize
Jesus was tried and crucified
Giving up his life so we would be supplied
With a way, we can be revived
When Satan only promises genocide
Disguised as some better kind of high
That leaves us completely horrified
Making Gods plan justified
Mankind needs to open his eyes to unwind
How much he needs to live in our minds
Only God knows what happens when we die
Bringing his divine harmony
So when Jesus returns to rectify
What Satan tried so hard to nullify
Knowing that I won't be left behind
Believing I didn't live my life blind
To the truth that gives us passage to heaven
Where my soul can reign on high
Knowing or lord and master would never lie
About what will happen if we except him eye to eye
I am worried
I am in despair
I am tensed
I am in low spirits
My song sounded melancholic
My thought turned pessimistic
My emotion became lifeless
My life seemed purposeless
My heart lost its rhythm
Cold shivers rippled my blood
My pulse missed its beat
Vacuum nested every nerve of my head.
I started my journey from somewhere to reach nowhere
I found myself toiling in the sands of dreary nightmare
I continued my cruise on the shoreless ocean
Searching for a home in an unknown destination
Life seemed to be a battlefield and I transformed into a weaponless warrior
Fighting with an unknown enemy for a mysterious reason
Tears were racing with the valley of blood
Anguish supplanted the graveness of a flash flood
Having fed with very little hope of survival
I gravely waited for the life's arrival.
Sailing unchaperoned in the gigantic world,
I realised that life is a personalized game and the triumph embosoms the unflinching souls.
If you look deeply and madly in the soup
You'll find the Love Poem Generator.
Just insert your loved one's name,
Flowers, colors, nouns and verbs.
Up will pop your own love poem
Personalized and made just for you.
Actually, love as a topic is done to death.
Who really wants to hear about your intimate love story?
Surely that is private and personal.
OK we want to share our thoughts and notes on love
Which is the greatest human feeling and emotion,
But what more can be said?
Introducing... BoneTone™ Music Box!
Tired of basic playlists?
Want music with soul -- and possibly a few spirits?
Crank open your ancestral vault
with the BoneTone™ Music Box--
the only music box infused with
generational trauma and hauntingly beautiful harmony.
One gentle twist and you'll hear:
A waltz from your great-great-great aunt
(who may or may not have been a pirate).
A lullaby from a forgotten land
sung by someone whose name your bones remember.
A choir of regrets with a tambourine solo.
Whether it’s cryptic whispers, eerie hums,
or a drumbeat made from ancient sighs--
every note is personalized.
Because your lineage has a soundtrack,
and it slaps.
Warning:
May summon chills, lost relatives, or spectral dance partners.
Not responsible for accidental séances.
BoneTone™ -- For when the past needs a remix.
MysticMisfits Product Line™
Coming soon to a dimension near you...
He was dealt a harsh life
But he tuned it into something beautiful
He’s electric, like the body of his lonely guitar
He holds a soft heart, yet remains inscrutable
He’s swayed by music, his swift fingers hitting each note
He frets, then he avoids, scanning for escape
He holds onto his pain, like the neck of his lonely guitar
Taking space when vulnerability takes shape
He won’t feel safe if you get too close
His magnetic shield attracts only sound
Strumming vibrations, like the pick-up of his lonely guitar
His gift to us is his music, so profound
He’ll dismiss you, then feel remorse when you’re gone
A self-fulfilling prophecy from personalized neglect
Pushing and pulling, like the whammy on his lonely guitar
His tension alters the pitch in his need to protect
He doesn’t want to lose you, but he won’t choose you
He gauges his emotional regulation through every tune
As he plucks at your heart, like the strings of his lonely guitar
In his authentic tone that causes my soul to swoon
He keeps himself busy to evade any reflection
He’s only secure on the stage hearing fan’s cheers
He’s divided his pitch, like the fret of his lonely guitar
He’ll scale you back while he’s hiding his fears
His riff is survival while suppressing his demons
Yet he maintains perfect control set by the saddle
Where he’s safely anchored, like the bridge of his lonely guitar
His wall of silence is more deafening in his battle
Captive damsel of creative-writing programs,
Personalized, eulogized job of small groups,
Quo Vadis poetry, a damsel in distress?
The frenetic activities handy to very few,
Poetry now belongs to a subculture hew.
We have accredited professional poets,
Creative writing teachers at all levels,
Composing computer- created poetry,
Creating illusion of the Golden Age artistry.
These professional poets have secured
Their own niches in the academic world,
They cry over the spilt milk like jackals
Snarling over a dried-up well with no aims.
Quantitative work is guaranteed success,
Accuracy, meaning, technique matters less.
+++
December 16, 2014
Form: (Contemporary Sonnet)
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
I gave you the tale of my computer
Last month
All is working.......
Well sort of.
And again it came down to me to put in a network card.
It put up a stubborn fight
But two days later I MADE IT WORK!
It really wasn't that hard
But there were other things
Like licenses for the vehicles and me
Mine was the problem
My birth certificate name was different you see.
I had had it changed
But who knows in what state
The lawyer said "shoot
The one on your birth certificate will do.".
The Kansas license was personalized
And a beautiful thing
I decided I'd keep it
And one day put it out for all to see.
When I removed it
I brought it inside
Washed and dried it
And set it aside.
One evening Shirlee and Fred came by
On their way home from work
I wasn't here but they left some no, no's
For my dessert.
The next day they came by to give me a ride
It was off to garage sales we would go
Shirlee looked at me and said
"Mom is that your idea of a joke?"
I didn't pick up on what she meant
And she pointed toward the stove.
" I mean ," she said "Do you intend to leave your
License plate up there?"
I told you it was special,
I didn't want it to get hurt
So I placed it on the vent
Above the cook stove to make sure.
It was tan
And a buffalo stood with pride
The letters C I L E
Were printed on it's side.
I still didn't get the drift
Until she pointed to the four little words
And Read
"HOME ON THE RANGE."
I had to sit down
I was laughing so hard
And when I think back
I still get a charge.
I haven't yet found my home on the range
But I'll tell you this my friends
Following the next four lines
You can add the word, AMEN
No more cooking
I am through
If you can't use the micro wave
BOO HOO!
Cile Beer
I waited... I surmised
I know I agonized
Of course... I never realized
Springtime was disguised
I pondered... I personalized
I know I criticized
Of course... I never recognized
Spring had improvised
I questioned... I vocalized
I know I dramatized
Of course... I verbalized
Spring had not arrived
I charted... I analyzed
I know I hypothesized
Of course... I never was more surprised
A third Nor'easter materialized
I remember... I fantasized
I know I rationalized
Of course... I never romanticized
That spring would be winterized
April 4, 2018
For Michael Vacek's Spring Monorhyme Contest