Best Predictable Poems
'Hello Bob', I self-spoke
Inside my head.
That's what I'd say if my name was Bob.
But it's not,
My name is not Bob.
Bob would not wear dare
Nor would Bob dare wear a cloak
With lipstick in the chest pocket
And a memory-tied locket
Swimming in a fancy fruit perfume.
Bob would not hide away behind the scent of summer apples linking hands with
Warm maple syrup jaffles.
Bob's time is scarce because
This ego-notion's motion was simply a passing thought
To create an unpredictable commotion.
'What if my name were Bob?'.
It's not,
Bob is my middle name.
What were the odds they did not know?
So many, many years ago, according to the records
they had left in there, it seems the answer was, quite low.
How strange the paradox of nature, how unpredictable
the outcome of its selections, how some variations
with the best chance to survive
became the human species,
became nature reflecting
on itself,
yet could not understand
that to stop adapting to its environment,
instead to change it, exploit it, a tipping point
would be reached, a no going back extinction event
would be unleashed, and adaptation would no longer be
an option.
Oh the stories we have found! The art fantastic as the sounds
of sea on shore, birds awakening with the golden dawn and
the scent, still present in its capsule, of an ancient rose.
How primitive their science, yet how predictable
the future was for them in small steps undertook with effort:
they knew slide rule soon and to the second
when Apollo would return from the dark side of the moon;
they knew nano chip soon and to the second
when and where an eclipse of the sun would pass at noon;
they knew too soon and to what degree
rising temperatures and rising seas foretold their doom.
What were the odds they did not know
how precious was this Eden, how rare an oasis in a vast unfriendly space,
when they sealed this vault five million years ago?
(Should this poem go in the vault? If so,
we have ten years left and then we'll know
and they'll know, too . . . we knew.)
- original poem written on the 5th of December in the year 2019 CE
Predictable poetry contest sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Organ grinder
Meat grinder
Bump-and-grind
The workday grind
Get up, get out of bed
Drag a comb across my head
Yeah, Yeah, Paul: You knew that was coming --
Go to work
Pour the coffee
Water the plants
Sharpen some pencils
Head for the water cooler
Trade some stories...gossip a bit
Stall...stall...stall...and stall some more...
Get to the meeting on time
Look engaged
Back to my cubby
And then:
What's this? A poem?
A what? A poem!
A poem appears
comes flying from my fingers
onto the keyboard
up on the screen
read... saved... printed …
posted on social media... 'liked'
All over the internet
Gone viral
I'm a thing
a downright event!
Yeah, sure I got canned
Of course...
Know anyone looking for a new poet?
December 03, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
It was predictable
You would come
And smile
I cleaned the stable
Put a handsome
bouquet of roses
On a table
In the right hand corner
Near the window
Put some white gladioli
Wrapped with
A brown paper too
Lest what is predictable
Didn't come true
It was you who
made it predictable
For you said
Categorically
Whether spring or rain
You would be with me
Doctor came in the evening
Angiography was done
He wrote on the report
Normal
But
Sought opinion
Of the departmental head
I was left swinging
Between bouquet
And brown paper
You are smiling
Jasmine flowers
You are sure
Roses prevail
Tomorrow morning
There will be an aurora
She said with an euphoria
____________________________
December 8, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Poems are written with great emotion by poets,
right from word one a writer gets lost in the creation, with
expectations for good reviews . . . but is is predictable and
destined that at times some negativity will come floating;
inevitable to hurt the heart,
certain to leave a scar . . . .
Totally inescapable when we send our poems on wings
and though this is foreseen, we do it anyways;
breathless this path we have chosen of writing, beautiful and
lovely words contemplated that drip from pens. We
empty our souls on white, and take a chance with predictable.
__________________________________
December 8, 2019
Poetry/Acrostic/Predictable
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1206-231-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
The lovely thorn bird
in truth so aptly named
death is his destiny born
a tragic ending
impaled on his home of thorns
sad and predictable end...
Predictable Porcupine
Porcupine strolls by
spikes glowing only at dusk
always the same route
© Shane Cogan, 2013
I'm sick to death of predictable rhymes
Such as I should be a drug dealer because I provide dope lines
I love you
It's true
I don't know what to do
Left her on read, now she's feeling blue
I'm tired of it all
I'm trying to raise my pen game to make up for where others fall
I'm just trying to Optimise
I stay to myself because problems arise
Once you start to get obsessed with dollar signs
My pen aims in all directions and I won't apologise
I don't care who gets hit or who's offended
Stop being so sensitive, I don't need friendships
I'm Nas and Rakim blended
Kids these days can't even quote a Big Daddy Kane line
But they keep up with the Kardashians
Most of these celebrities got famous by accident
When I listen to a Young Thug song my Brain declines
It refuses to listen to the nonsense
I'm sick of today's challenges and who can be the wackest contests
I miss when music had meaning and was complex
Nas, Tupac, Big Pun, Jay-Z, different flows and rhyme schemes
Now on YouTube being an idiot is how you find dreams
Am I supposed to be impressed by 10 Diamond chains?
I'm not impressed by who's flying first class, I respect who designed the plane
These days it seems that every mind's the same
Your favourite singer doesn't even write their own songs
Beyonce, Rihanna, and more, but you just go along
You don't care about the words, if there's a catchy hook and beat
I'd rather inspire those who look to me
Even if it's just one person I inspire
The same way Eminem got me through my hard times
At least my art's mine
And I write about what I desire
I flip the script and write my own
I may not be a king yet, but I'll fight for the throne
They'll say I'm being disrespectful, which is fine
I'm only saying that I'm tired of celebrities and predictable rhymes
so predictable:
political maneuvers
by the left and right
Phase changes.
Rising trends.
Everywhere we see the data.
Down goes dualism.
I can barely breathe as it is.
Chicken shack children catching their colds.
Table your thoughts inside my many hearts.
Analyze the graphs.
Beckon the elders.
Leer into the ascending values.
Everyone changes the outcome.
I never wanted to be predictable until I met you,
Now I want you to read my mind and know exactly what to do
Look in my eyes, know my face and see me sweet and true
I never wanted to be predictable until I met you
Now our relationship is nothing but askew
My misinterpretation is an unwelcome misconstrue
I never wanted to be predictable until I met you
Love me now, or not at all, your decision is overdue
Help me put my mind at ease so that I can be through
I never wanted to be predictable until I met you
What do I want? What do I need? My, I wish I knew
How can you find out what's in my thoughts? Here is a little clue
I never wanted to be predictable until I met you
The older I am
The older I get
Finding myself doing the same
Thing, again and again
Nothing in life
Ever much changes
I'm so predictable
But then you knew I would say this
It all has to do
With my attitude
But then again
This tidbit you knew
I wake in the mornings
Shower and shave
The very same way
I do every day
I put on my trousers
One leg at a time
First with the left
Then with the right
Same with my shoes
I follow suit
First with the left
Well, you know what I do
A bowl of Cheerios
Every morning for breakfast
I've done this before
So you know that I've got this
After all that
I let out the cat
Where he starts the first of many
Afternoon naps
Down on the corner
By 8:05
And just like I am
The bus is always on time
I'm predictable
In all I do and say
Just looking at me
Gives that away
I get to the office
Sit down at my desk
And just like the cat
All day I nap
Back at the corner
By 5:05
Here comes the bus
Still right on time
Make it back home
Let the cat in
Sit down to dinner
Me and my feline friend
Predictable
In all that I do
My trouser routine
Works for my jammies too
Exactly at 9
I'm tucked into bed
So I'm fresh in the morning
To do it all over again
I'd tell you different
But won't play you the fool
Cause we all know that I am
Predictable
If I say turn left,
he's sure to go right.
If I say let's drop it,
he'll just want to fight.
The few times he asks me
to go out to eat,
he wants the one restaurant
I like the least.
If on a vacation
we chose both to go,
I'd most like a cruise
while he would want snow.
And if to a state fair
he'd take me sometime,
to see art exhibits
he'd see as a crime!
Would he ride a pendulum?
How he would moan!
To go on a ride,
I'd be going alone.
He hates any store
I might like at the malls,
but go nuts for Home Depot,
where I'd stare at walls.
When choosing a channel
to hear as we travel,
my popular music
would make him unravel.
We're both so predictable,
and it's because
I always think opposite
of how he does.
Dec. 5, 2019 for Nina Parmenter's Predictable Poetry Contest
?
Poetry in such a way
Restructured from afar
Every thought that's on display
Don’t show them who you are
Instead of just the usual write
Concoct a brand new scheme
Touch the dark instead of light
Abort the standard theme
Become unpredictable
Leave all that stuff behind
Ending this one without love… (bet that’s not what you thought you’d find)
December 3rd, 2019
The Predictable poetry contest
Nina Parmenter
In a world where change is inevitable we never see it coming
new and more advanced search engines
hairdos that shock us with color and multi dimensional form
faster cars that run on solar energy
foods syringed with synergetic fibre, may or may not be
lethal to our health...
Plastic trees and recycled items that make us wonder,
what was it once before ?
weather buffets that whip us one day and stroke us the next
hyper media intoxication that makes us beg for temperance
In a world that is one day your best friend and the next
your adversary,
I'm glad I have a home to come home to every night
I'm glad I have a family that never leaves my sight
I'm glad I don't like change enough to give up being
"predictable"
In this volatile world where nothing ever stands still for very long,
I'm glad I reached an age of appreciation, for the same old song.
Dec. 3, 2019