Best Prefix Poems
As the final glimpse
of the sun leads into
an everlasting spectacle
of twinkling dreams,
peeking through
turmeric traces
of an amber aftermath,
I listen to the
nesting nightingales
croon nostalgic lullabies,
and search for a
celestial ray
that would illustrate,
the beginning
of
butterflies
within
my glass heart.
When twilight is
just a
mere mirage
in the distance of
my destitute mind,
and tune
of your
laughter
reverberates
in rhapsodic refrain;
a raspy rhythm
ringing
through
rustic breeze,
whilst the
whistling
wind waves
to the
dandelions
dancing
to your
delicate drumbeats,
scintillating stars
fall upon
our silhouettes,
scattering pieces of
who I once
used to be-
within pulsating
flesh and bones,
before I felt the
warmth of your
cosmic whispers.
Now initials of
your amethyst
song is the
penultimate prefix
to my path
of
healing,
where
sentimental sighs
between us,
unveil
wordless
smiles electrifying
a classical crescendo;
awaiting beneath
instrumental wings.
I count the
flickering jewels,
splattered across
nocturnal
night-skies,
questioning if this
is
another
start
of a
weary winter?
or is this just
a seasonal distraction,
intoxicating my
procrastinating pen,
or is your voice a
heaven-sent elixir,
to soothe the satanic
seas evaporating
black salt-
drizzling toxic rain,
upon my
porcelain choir,
synchronizing
a symphony
of soulmates destined
to
reunite and rewrite
a
roseate rendezvous.
Maybe,
fate reignited
to align
the emerald
glow between
you and I,
Maybe, I’ve long
been a wanderer,
on a quest to reach
the rainbow
swirls
above your
musky garden,
where background
music is
the poetry woven
from your
cryptic ink.
You’ll always remain
the
last maestro
in my carnival
of chaos,
amidst the loudness
of screeching demons
chattering within every
darkest sheet of
dreary December.
You grow so fast, already showing glimpse of awesome creativity
and transform discoveries from the industrious nature of your observations
so squat at my feet and raise your attentive head up high
to be equipped for this compulsory journey oh sweet creature of my seed.
My hands of your molding and chastisement
are already the processing engine of your refinement
my strong willed mind and love soaked heart
complete the stages as you hold steadfast
to the train I’ve prepared for you
Listen attentively as I perform this segment of my duties
and lets take a tour round the routes of wisdom
and gallivant the landscape of experience
while I pedal your feet and smoothen your soles
Seasoned flavored virtues are an armour through which
life’s shots are overcomed
and a colourful behaviour becomes a saviour in times of need
Labor not your whole life in chasing vapour
for out of vigour, flour is made from wheat,
Bread from flour, but all for a time of enjoyment and satisfaction
Guilty syndrome is exhibited when a person answers unasked questions
and don’t force out jokes from your head
or else people will think your sense of humor is on a life support
Sunset is no accuse for the clock to stop running ad infinitum
thus, an excuse is like a punctured umbrella
it’ll still not stop the invasion of raindrops
Your natural desires are borderless, but your ability
to strongly control them is what makes you distinct
from other species in the animal kingdom
Love has no prefix, suffix or adjective
it is what it is and as powerful as
causing natural instincts to be abdicated in favour of kindness
just for the carnivore to embrace abstinence.
He who begins a tale becomes its reference
don’t say what you cannot defend in court
rumour is a bad odour which spreads beyond the neighbourhood
and puts a noisy siren on your personality
Bad companionship will lead you to the garbage
and corrupt friends will join others
to marvel at the immortality of your adopted stupidity
Wash your face every morning with these words
and take your every meal with these lines
then would they be spices
to which your life is preserved.
Just what is unspeakable love?
Is it love sent from heaven above?
With its prefix of “un,”
is this love then just one
I’m simply not able to speak OF?
For Adeleke Adeite's Contest:
Unspeakable Love (Limerick)
SUFFIX - PREFIX PUNS
Mispronounce inter-family relationships *
And we bury the family - its security slips:
Anti -freeze divorced Uncle freeze at last,
After yesterday’s weather fore-cast, (maybe an aft-cast?)
She married an ‘im-migrant , a male arriver from abroad, *
Although he loved an ‘er-igrant, a female arriver, obviously a broad.*
At their wedding feast was abundance
Seen in the pastry two-step - a very merry dance.
She thought it selfish for though his trade was to sell-fish
They ate lobster-rific, huge monster lobster dish:
‘Twas subterranean (from bed of the Mediterranean)
A celibate creature , a sort of anti-climax crustacean.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Note
*Verb “to inter” means “to bury someone”
*Colloquial British English says ‘im and ‘er for him and her
United Nations, United Nations
What an oxymoron!
What an oxymoron!!
The platitude goes-
‘United we stand’
In the UN,
How erect we stand!
How erect we stand!!
We are *****erectus
Aren’t we?
This genocide-friendly unity of nations
With extra-care tending
The weeded garden of poison-trees.
When Hutus and Tutsies blood-bathe
The UN closely observes the situation,
When Israel unchilds, unhusbands and unfathers
The Palestinians, the UN
Appeals to both the parties to exercise restraint.
When the Theravada fanatics exterminate the Rohingyas
And the West-engineered Arab Spring
Tears the Middle East asunder,
The UN condemns and condemns and condemns!
O UN what a paradox you enflesh,
Bringing to the forefront
The anti-thesis -
‘United we stand, divided we fall’
To what insurmountable height you have taken
The human(un)kind, we have seen
Now anti-thetically we would like to fall
As ‘fair is foul, foul is fair’.
In your acronymic form
When in lower case
How prophetically you become
An ominous prefix!
UN, UN you are non-existent
An ethereal entity, a papier mache;
Ailan’s death has finally declared
You biologically dead.
Let this cenotaph be
Placed on top of UN HQ:
Here once architecturally stood
The divided conglomeration of Nations – the UN,
A metonymic entity
Proudly pronouncing human unyokability.
RIP, dear UN.
untainted yet unfiltered
unrefined and unpolished
retry or repeat
replay and rethink
non-disclosure agreements maintain non-abrasive relations
non-adhesive and non-adjacent
pre-approved with pre-attained knowledge
preceding and preconceived
pre-you and pre-me
post-op after post-apocalypse
post-exposure and post-devaluation
anti-image mingled anti-ego
semi-coherent and semi-caring
over-bearing and under-delivering
sub-human in trans-consciousness
hyper-sensitive before hyper-aggressive
hyper-alert and hyper-aware
out-gunned or out-played
who cares
Why is there this
un-clear re-defining
of a
non-differential pre-ordained
post-humous anti-progressive
semi-important over-emphasized
under-developed sub-genius
trans-race hyper-complex
out-landish ever-changing
Societal "Norm"
Be-you, and let me, be-me.
The heaviest isotope of hydrogen,
It has one proton, two neutrons,
And one electron.
If you forget the mass number is three,
Use the prefix tri
You’ll remember the mass,
And the chemistry test you’ll pass.
"Gold Bitten"
delinquent minds
call the creative in
gold bitten terror bites
he thinks he’s a poet
she thinks of other things
not so equivalent
she thinks she’s a brevity
he believes he’s a harlequin
the point mute and hammered in
golden words delivered
shining against the banished burnished
flowing in the unleashed freedom
up from the depths
some kind of risen,
coldly removed, poetically bitten
unmistakably
apples rolled, stark competition
outrun, yet golden
monster
loved, and
monster driven
where did you come from beautiful?
the question derisive, velvet tones,
moss hidden
From the depths of it all,
she responds,
from the dead, risen
(LadyLabyrinth/2023)
terabyte.
"The prefix tera is derived from the Greek word for monster"...
brevity.
harlequin.
apples. ;)
I am a women that loves with all of her heart,
although not the true mother they have been mine from the start.
I look in their eyes and do not see me,
but when I look deeper in thier hearts a part me does peek.
I love them with every part of my being and no matter whos blood they stream they are mine by feeling.
Two beautiful lives that I have helped to mold into amazing children with souls so bold.
They only know they are loved by me a women, a friend thier stepmommy, why should a title mean more then love especially when its a child thats recieving this love.
They are mine now and forever in time and nothing will change this feeling of mine.
I hope that each day my girls know what they have given me the gift of unconditional love and parentry.
Stepmother I maybe but after the prefix truly describes me.
I saw her a milky complexion and a voluptuous frame , she had a name but no surname noone gave her a surname .
I found her similar less incommon a saree she had draped in an impious commotion to look like what she had to look like .
Little choice did she had to hide the wonders of her skin which were not wonders to her , the brightness of her smile nd her cleavage were unholy to them to her , it was mere piece of flesh scotched and held tight without any pocession she was never touched with admiration but only exploitation.
They scorn at her as she is relegated but forget to question her origin before grabbing her , forgot which caste did she uphold because for them she was not a piece of art but a Harlot , her beauty was perhaps sold .
Her feminsm staked for the pleasure of a night nd she cried , she cried not of the pain it gave her but about every remark of unholy and stained sexuality which slapped in her nightmares of open eyes maybe she too complained but her complaints sucked in by mouths of holy men .
But wait , last night she too saw a dream of all holy men where she was also one of them no less was she revered wearing a saree washed with dignity this time .
Her speech as a monologue of her aspirations and not melancholy of compulsory sex . Her lips now echoing the eulogy of her power , they stained her skin but couldn't reach her heart .
Maybe she wants to be a doctor , an actor , a choreographer a singer or a poet but no one asked her . Her demeanour no more sluggish say hello to the newborn priggish her prefix is not just a prostitute , her life is much more than bodily servitude .
No less than a pandit she is a sensational prelude so the next time you see a prostitute just smile at her not for her stained sexuality but for her soul’s individuality because her soul remains
Unstained .
By : Ridhi bhutani ( herfingerwings)
This was
a prelude to a prefix.
I want to stretch
my arms
to reach your moon.
*
Why did they had
to go,
the night,
the caper,
the moon !
Satish Verma
A shout out to the guy who made up language,
Inventing diction, style, speech and sound,
Especially the creation of the little prefix pro,
Making words potent, deep and profound.
Some add-ons he added were genius,
Joining para with dox, to puzzle what we use,
And then, adding an “a” onto our thoughts
To make a word, for fun, out of muse.
But then he thought to add extra on,
Making ordinary far more than routine,
And added dom to star, king, and free, for show,
Providing linguistic cuisine.
This guy, who invented the words that we use,
He gave us so many words with which to write,
With the –dom, extra-, in-, para- and more,
Enhancing reads on this Poetry Soup site.
Consultation Room
Our organs we disdain
Until we have some pain
Then begin to learn
Let organs respect earn!
There’s this red “bean”
Fond of giving a spleen
Pith can suffer “cones”
They call kidney stones.
Maligned cirrhotic livers
Afflict with painful fevers
You may relish one of sheep
Yours gives scant sleep!
“You’ve got a Big Heart.”
Then think you’re smart!
There’s fire in the chest
You would hardly rest.
Diseased swollen lungs
Give the worst pangs
You sweat all over night
Yet shiver with frost bite.
When eyes are in pain
They see lightning and rain
The Pain eyes can lodge
You wish them to disgorge.
Not least a swollen ear
Which no sound will hear
It gnaws into your soul
Leaving you an empty bowl!
“Labour, to an aching tooth
“is nothing, I tell the truth!”
“You’re good wif no teef
“Than wif cyst underneaf!”
Cancer of the prostate-
Who would aptly relate
The worst of all the worse
It is a pure human curse!
Those who eat so well
Call gastric ulcers real Hell
Once a morsel you partake,
Writhe like a dying snake!
And, cancer of the cervix
Has Pain with no prefix!
The sick that you nurse
Suffer agony like a curse.
*
Whoever is now healthy
Is confirmed as wealthy
Organ treatment or care
All our efforts must dare.
Correct thy eating habit
Potential throe will inhibit
Work till you sweat
Disease spurns the heat.
Substance use or abuse
Condemn it and accuse
Cancers that we endure
Come from deals impure.
Regular checks are noble
To detect what may wobble
“And rectify the setback
“That’ll get ya out o’ track!
*** Upon spending a sleepless night with a malignant lung (13/11/2013).
JM
14th Nov’ 2013
she now knows love
love, not a lifeless thing
that she used to talk about those days
while carrying a backpack
full of books and binders
a mustang she wanted to drive
symbol of success and speed
a perfect blend with boom
and the ooze of black-gold
but today for her
only one thing that matters
living with a man
sharing his failure
to graduate from a high school
that teaches not techniques
to survive that stoppage
of an upward movement
and a free flow of more
her achievement
she carries with care
as if holding the first university degree
that will open the greater door
to a doctorate
to walk around with a prefix
before her name
now she smiles, inside
every time she feels that kick
a little stretching
in that cozy cave
intricately decorated convocation hall
calling him, her baby
while feeling that wall, outside
her boy will soon graduate
to enjoy her love
her success, her own graduation
to that new title – Mum