Best Pu Poems
..............I could write you
...................poetic images
...............that would make
............other women drool.
...............Speak of sunsets
...........wired, computerized
....................................to
.....................................P
...................................PU
..............................PULSE
............ ...to the rhythm of
.........your striking features
B............Build you a ladder
.............from light, that we
..............could climb to the
..............gates of euphoria.
..............Tell you that they
.............named it after you
E..........................Ecstasy.
............I could and I would
.........but I know you better
.......... ....than that. I know
.....................what you like.
.........................I can taste
..............it on my buds. You
....................want a man of
......................simple words
..................spun from truth.
A.........A man that will never
.........run out on you. A man
..............that when you hold
......................is steady and
.............rooted. I am steady
..............and rooted but also,
...........I am in love with you.
U............Not by the waterfall
.........or against the light of a
..........full moon. Not walking
...................along the beach
....................while the ocean
..............whispers in my ears.
............. I love you first thing
.......even on a dingy morning.
........................I love you on
...........evenings when it is so
.........cloudy there is not even
................one star in the sky.
........It is just dark. I love you
.........when we're on separate
.......couches reading different
.......books. When we're alone
...........or together in a crowd
.......I love you from the other
........side of the room. On the
.......first floor when you're on
....the twenty third. When you
.....have a cold and even more
........when you are sicker still.
T.....The simple truth is you're
.........stuck with me from now
.............to eternity........why?
Y.................because the best
............part about you is that
.........I know you love me too.
01~22~2015
Sponsor: Rhonda
Contest: Hidden Beauty
Aloha Weeps
Aloha weeps
In waves of grief
Pounding on a windswept beach
To grieve the loss of gracious footsteps
That gently walked upon its sand
Where the waves that tickled her heart
Now carry a plumeria lei
Beyond the horizon.
Pele mourns
Her adopted child
Whose fiery imagination
Flowed like lava in poetry
To build new lands of inspiration
Child, laughing in pikaki’s fragrant garden,
Slips quietly from breath’s bonds
Past the islands’ shores.
Trade winds grieve
Murmuring her name
Steadfast
In gossamer hues
Of orchids and hibiscus,
Hawaii’s pua aloalo,
So they remember to give
Breath to her words
Gliding over rolling surf
And rustling palms.
Rainbows cry
Reach out to touch
Her giving servant heart,
To touch her beauty,
To find her na'u garden empty
With only her Aloha scent
Lingering
Among the ilima of Oahu
As she soars on rainbow wings
Into friendly skies again.
The tropic sun laments
In a ring
Of fiery tears
In secret waterfalls
Among the blue awapuhi – trails of naupaka
And coral reefs
That guard tropical beauty
When tides recede
To hear the conch shell call her home.
Aloha Hawaiian Rose.
Mahalo nui loa, ka’u hoaaloha! Thank you so much my friend.
God be with you! ke Akua pu.
On the passing of Connie Marcum Wong!
Poet extraordinaire! Servant Heart! Faithful friend! Beautiful flower in Hawaii’s garden.
Constance means steadfast.
9-16-22
Thank you William, Hilo Poet, for teaching me the beauty of the Hawaiian language. I truly hope I have written it correctly to honor this beautiful language.
Awapuhi is a beautiful blue flower native to Hawaii.
Ilima is the flower of the island of Oahu
Naupaka is a small white, fragrant flower of Hawaiian legend
Na’u is the Hawaiian, fragrant gardenia
Pua aloalo is the Hibiscus – state flower of Hawaii
There was a venturous gent
Who travelled the earth’s extent
But at the North Pole
It took quite a toll
Deciphering their accent
It started when he heard elves
Discussing amongst themselves
Saying: ‘le’s make oys
For he girls and boys
And pu all his suff on shelves’
Then said: ‘beer wear warm bandannas
Visiing Monreal and Monana
Because we’re old
Is exra cold
So bring exra blankes for Sana’
Now this gent was truly confused
With the kind of language elves used
Yet he feared missing
So kept on listening
And flipped from anguished to amused
The elves resumed: ‘Is ime o sing
Followed by hiry bells o ring’
Well that sent the gent
Closer to the scent
Of the kind of slang they did sling
He then met the elves finally
With a hey, hello, and howdy
Then said the words right
Singing Silent Night
As: ‘Silen nigh’; with a silent T
Translation if wanted:
Let's make toys
For the girls and boys
And put all this stuff on shelves
Beter wear warm pajamas
Visiting Montreal and Montana
Because we're told
It's extra cold
So bring extra blankets for Santa
It's time to sing
Followed by thirty bells to ring.
À JAMAIS
je n’aurais jamais cru
que le jour viendrait
toujours j’ai pensé
que je serais là pour toi
et toi pour moi
jamais je n’aurais cru
que si soudainement
la fin arriverait
comment ai-je pu laisser
le destin t’arracher de mes bras
notre pour toujours et à jamais
désormais derrière nous
Translated from my poem FOREVER
Posted May 15, 2021
C’est derrière moi
j’aurais pu
être plus gentille
possiblement
j’aurais pu
réagir avec plus de délicatesse
j’aurais pu
possiblement
fléchir à tes caprices
être plus sympathique
j’aurais pu
j’aurais dû
peut-être
mais quelle espèce d’ami as-tu été
quand tu t’amusais à tordre tout
tu interprétais tout croche
mes mots mes regards mes opinions
aucune chance de m’expliquer
bien au contraire si froid
tout noir ou blanc sans compromis
le dialogue inexistant
la porte fermée à toute discussion
juge et jury
grossier et vulgaire
tout simplement
sec et superficiel
rigide et arrogant
rien de moins qu’un abruti
vraiment
j’ai de moins en moins de temps
pour les gens artificiels
Translated from my poem BURNT BRIDGES
Posted on May 14, 2021
SPRING OF SUBSTANCE
Adorable word drawing a rainbow of substance-- SPRING
Benumb snow-white cloak that drapes the earth,
charmed by strips of golden spotlight above blue skies
delicate cloak now being peeled to show
emeralds of nature: daring to model life
Footsteps ready to walk on warm green grassy ground
guided by cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we to chiff chaffs
hummed in chorus by swifts, mistrels and humble bees
Idyllic scents of daffodils and scilla swirls on mid-air...
Joyful Squirrels springing on loops of woods and rocks
kindles energy burst after their winter sleep.
Lodging everywhere the rising beauty of butterflies
Miles and miles you will see valleys and hills smile.
Nightingales: diva among birds share their lullabies.
Ox huge and strong that home flies now in the stall lies;
Painting bright is the seabird colony of puffins, shags and gulls
quieting your despair and muse for a stare.
Running cluster in the woodlands are bluebells,
seen enough, be a phenologist if you like!
taking notes when and where your first sight:
unfolding flowers, frogs, spawns and others.
Viral is the fun that leaps high during season of spring.
Wildlife a phenomenal broadway to the eyes!
Xanthic warm light will keep all acts alive
yielding an amazing breathing ride to anyone.
Zoom spring and delight in its zaftig view!
_____________________________________________________________
TERMS:
--xanthic--yellow or yellowish
--zaftig--having full view or rounded figure
©O. E. Guillermo
10:12pm, February 25, 2015
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Abecedarian
Placed 3rd
This is the worst poem I'll write
Only because I want to fight
For a lifetime membership on
Poetry soup, is more valuable
Than getting rid of the croup
I must rhyme every line
So I get picked every time
I hope this poem stinks p.u.
Or else I'll be the one that pays my dues.
Is it nasty and dirty and bad as can be
If not P.D will never pick me.
So I better not rhyme my lines anymore
For I don't want to be shown the window.
I battle with English
They often ask as me where I'm from
I reply, "not from the English"
I live with in the west with my mom
No siblings no pet just books to read
I read grandfathers books, in my language
In English I know the little I need
I always carry my books in my luggage
I travel to the east the west
I find it hard to co-mmuni-cate
The big words won't let me rest
They say I'm doing awful at this rate
I tell them that I'm not English
I see spelling errors when I type
com-pu-ter helps me with my English
It's a disaster when I have to Skype
But I am who I am
I can't speak Spanish, Venda or Punjabi
A failure is not who I am
Just not afraid to admit I battle with English
Form:
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
(Joy Williams, b. 1942 in Sydney. Since she was born « fair » of skin, the authorities forcibly removed her as a baby to be placed in a children’s home, and at the age of 6 to be assimilated in a « white » institution. She later studied for a B.A. at Wollongong University in New Soth Wales.
Joy’s first born, Julie-Anne Joy, was taken from her at 10 months by the Aboriginal Protection Board. She worked for an organization called : « Link-Up » in Canberra with tentacles all over the continent whose prescribed aim was to bring together parents and children thus forcibly separated by the authorities. Joy, finally, « linked-up » with her family 42 years after enforced separation. – Info culled from K. Gilbert’s Inside Black Australia,
Penguin, 1988.) T. Wignesan, Paris, December 16, 2016.
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
C’est 16 heures la veille de Noël et je pense de toi.
Je m’amuse en rappelant de ce que tu as dit : Noël est pour les
enfants –
Je pleurais car je ne jamais étais un enfant.
Je vois un arbre, tout allumé des guirlandes de Noël,
J’aperçois la réflexion des lumières dans les yeux de mes enfants tandis qu’ils dansaient autour de l’arbre avec une anticipation joyeuse.
Je me demande ce qu’elle aurait pu être la vie d’un enfant.
Est-ce que mes souvenirs auraient pu être heureux au lieu de rien ?
Est-ce que mes enfants se souviendront de leur enfance ?
C’est le matin de Noël,
J’entends des cries de joie,
On m’a réveillé d’un sommeil agité et j’ai senti deux pairs de bras autour de moi,
J’éprouve le sentiment qu’on a besoin de moi.
Dieu, comme j’aime mes enfants !
J’essaye d’apprécier le Noël à travers d’eux, mais, à l’intérieur, je pleure,
Une nonne arrive avec une boîte de vivres et je me sens maladive et vidée,
Elle comprend ce que je ressens. (Mettez la boîte là, je dis.)
C’est le soir de Noël,
Je suis fatiguée.
On m’aime.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
The equivalent of a cosmic flat tire, the star collector overheated again.
Should've topped off the subzero heat transmogger back at Stuckey's.
Yep we have 'em too.., who doesn't need a Pecan Log Roll, now and then.
Two Roadway startruckers snapped up the last Elmer's paste pies., the luckys.
Right between filling stations to boot, no triple A for a gojillion miles..
and one of my best pint sized, non-binary service robots on the blink.
Not my best idea, feeding her moonshrooms, peaked all his cortial dials,
eventually caused them to puke it up, all over my excremental sink.
Frazusoosh it! not even a UPB (Universal Phone Booth) to make a collect call,
to my mother (planet), which, by the way, is also useful for transmitting matter.
That's assuming you can find someone to accept the charges, of course, LOL.
Had to wash dishes for an eternity, last time, including dried on crupecake batter.
Drack's balls! stuck on this puny planet with obnoxious fumes corroding my chromium tail.
No wonder they call it air; the sixth least favorite word in the Corpadian lingo, P.U.!
Those creatures keep staring, I've tried to reason with them, even tried telepthy to no avail.
When I type in their reply to my trans-googling translator, all it comes back as is 'Moo'.
Oh thank goodness! A family of grubbers in a U Haul pulling over., whew!
Though probably have to sit on a lap, luckily they each have two.
252 words, including these
An old Asian named Asheet Midrawz
Pooped himself; then discovered the cause
Eating too many plums
Gave poor Asheet the runs
His wife loves him despite all his flaws!
*Asheet is a genuine Christian name whilst the rest of the poem is fiction
BY JAN ALLISON
Asheet Midrawz had a problem for sure
When he couldn't open the toilet door
He let out a wail
His wife grabbed a pail
Been used for bleach now his rump is so sore
BY SEREN ROBERTS
Asheet I've heard has got the runs
Dripping down from his wretched buns
And his wife Pu Phlung
Of his troubles sung
A little ditty and some cracking puns
BY TIM SMITH
Asheet married when he was young
His beloved’s name is Pu Phlung
When they had male child
His grandparent’s went wild
As they christened the baby Dung
BY JAN ALLISON - INSPIRED BY TIM'S POEM!
Little boy Dung was a bit of a chunk
Made a kerplop when the vicar did dunk
Water all about
Poor Pu did shout
Because the whole congregation now stunk!
BY TIM SMITH
10-13-17
Art gallery glimpses
Posters on walls;
Unfamiliar insights
~~~~~~~~~
Fresh good market
Country festival;
Abundant fruits
~~~~~~~~~
Young child escorted
Proud parents each side;
Nurture greets nature
~~~~~~~~~
Roasted meat stall
Duck, chicken, BBQ pork;
Appetizing fares
~~~~~~~~~
Pay day queue
Busy ATM buzz;
Cash flow escapades
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy moments
Heavy eyelids flutter;
Bedtime stories
~~~~~~~~~
Quizzical notions
Unanswered query;
Planning-in-progress
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese Pu-Er tea
Refreshing brew;
Fragrant sensations
~~~~~~~~~
Sparrow sing-song
Rainy day complaint;
Resting on my ledge
~~~~~~~~~
Crows on a tree
Casuarina bough;
Wet evening dark
~~~~~~~~~
Ships by the bay
Sunset silhouettes;
City lights glimmer
~~~~~~~~~
City skyscrapers
Deserted weekend;
Sullen silence presides
~~~~~~~~~
Sunday orchestra
Noisy enclave crowds;
Chattering diaspora
~~~~~~~~~
Foreign workers gather
Common language screams;
Home town dispensations
~~~~~~~~~
Social integration
Newcomers and old salt;
Brine for salted cabbage
~~~~~~~~~
Dear Pandora
Curiosity brings curse;
Hope endures boldly
~~~~~~~~~
Words struggle now
Crisp commotion here;
Pain sublimates thought
~~~~~~~~~
Style sparks smiles
Bitter gall precipitates;
Ideas emerge
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
30 November 2014
Singapore
Stink
My p.u., putrid, pungent pores
Have made me rotten to the core
reek and ravish emissive scents
Not caring where the odor vents
To flatulate without remorse
Then scurry to another course
There are some times I smell of mint
A sensing that woud give a hint
of blossums in a field of joy
The milieu is intact and safe
But feeling threatened has aroused
A preparation to deploy
organic weapons that are housed
My overwhelming krypton funk
For after all, I am a Skunk
Stink Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
October 1, 2016
SPRING TIME MEMORIES 2
Spring in Lijiang
Blooming flowers sparkle;
Crystal clear waters
~~~~~~~~~
Snow-cap mountains
Majestic horizons;
Sky borne eagle
~~~~~~~~~
Prominent ancient town
Glimpses of old China;
Modern trade-offs
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient grounds glimpse
Tarry on stone bridge;
Curious feet loiter
~~~~~~~~~
Common grounds
Local folks ponder;
Observe tourists intrude
~~~~~~~~~
Old bazaar shoppe
Ancient gentleman smiles;
Pipe smoke patterns
~~~~~~~~~
Photo snapshot
Memory milestone;
Still life ambience
~~~~~~~~~
Brisk browse
Snatch good feel;
Takeaway trinkets
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient village moments
Emergent present;
Fast food restaurants
~~~~~~~~~
Lijiang in spring
May joy sets three days;
Heart wanders home
~~~~~~~~~
Picture story
Glimpses of Lijiang;
Vivid colours dance
~~~~~~~~~
Feast for the eyes
Magic moments stray;
Vivid visit
~~~~~~~~~
Cobblestone lanes
Petrified tryst;
Personal memoir
~~~~~~~~~
Silver everywhere
White metal textures;
Precious distractions
~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a tour
Lijiang in China;
A kind host
~~~~~~~~~
Winding pond
Willow tree murmurs;
Morning salutation
~~~~~~~~~
Fragrant Pu-Er tea
Tasty brew invigorates;
Round roll blend
~~~~~~~~~
Spring time sojourn
Far far away;
Horizons merge
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
19 August 2014
Singapore
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.