Best Punctuation Poems
Un-nerved by formal sentencing assemblies,
Marks and Words, bound by conjunctive amenity.
The tried beliefs that short cuts speed words into action.
Made stuffy Old School feel out of fashion.
Punctuation board-slams her silver gavel;
“A shortened distance, yet far to travel.”
Marks are pushed into line to enter their plea.
Dash Dash Dash has trailing thoughts…
Comment remarks that it thinks too much.
Question Mark, curiously rotund and stout,
asks “What’s this meeting all about?”.
Proud Period, acquainted with the strident rituals of formality,
Quickly departs, leaving a daunting spot of terse finality.
Comma’s game of pause and snag,
grammatically adheres to one of tag.
Overwrought Exclamation Mark, nervously blurts:
“Unruly disorder can make matters worse!”.
Semi colon maintaining proper pauses,
Stays anchored between compelling clauses.
Colon fearful of growling barks,
snuggles closer to Quotation Marks.
Apostrophe’s like for word possession,
worries over changing word obsession
Oh, Oh! Oh? Oh…
These are shameful attempts to monopolize,
Even with trite words, of unassuming size.
.
Punctuation thinks her identity’s impaired
Might she be confused with the shrew, Grammar?
She calls to order a capitol thought.
sliding up to Exclamation Mark, shouts “’STOP!’
The object of this meeting,
Is not subject to self- beating.
No presence is here to criticize, or chastises,
nor harmonize.
If getting through is what stays true.
Will be understood by some , but always to you.”.
Morning is a question mark –
Serenity or drama?
Afternoon’s a semi-colon,
Period or comma.
If the day’s routine,
You’d list its parts behind a colon:
Ordinary expectations
Keep those hours rollin’.
Hyphens give one pause, though things
May not be out of joint.
What you must be careful of’s
The exclamation point.
For this little bugger
May show anger, joy or fear.
Many people would prefer
It never would appear.
Punctuation rules the day
And shows us what we’ve got.
Nighttime comes and then we’re left
With dot and dot and dot…
somewhere
red poppies
grow
fertilised
by blood
sun
and
winter snow
lost
freedoms
seed
on widow's
weeds
sadness flows
to that
no-mans land
where
there
are
but crows
Welcome friends, I know you will be most excited
with tonight's special guest that we have invited.
So, let's give a round of applause and a cheer.
Punctuation's star, Exclamation Point, is here.
Welcome. It's good to see you, Exclamation Point.
Yes! Let's do it, Johnny! I just got out of the joint!
My goodness, I was going to say, you're looking trim.
Tell your fans what kind of mess you got yourself in.
I guess I got too excited, opened my yap,
and told Comma he's lost, falling in the wrong gap.
I impetuously started a barroom fight,
my sentences struck him, with raw power and might.
I'm innocent, but somehow, I stir up commotion.
I'm just excellent at expressing emotion!
Hmm, tell us about the emotions you can express.
For example, what about happiness?
What a great question! Glad you asked it! I'm ecstatic!
What was I saying? Whatever, I'm emphatic!
But was it anger that landed you in the can?
Shut up, Johnny, I'll rip your bloody face off, man!
I guess subtlety is really not your ball of wax.
Do you do sadness? Yes, I weep and do my income tax!
Exclamation Point, it sure has been a pleasure.
Thanks, Johnny, I've enjoyed myself without measure!
and remember, Question Mark asks, and Comma will pause,
but an Exclamation Point thanks you for your applause!
moribund she wondered what
the postmortem would leave
other than a dead body and wounds
made by the many scalpels of life
operations gone wrong and stitch-ups
with sutures festering at the seams
as a mere mortal she had not chosen
the coffin head stone and grave
as one should not mess with writings
on the wall of reputation and fame
a quick eulogy and lies about her being
heavily edited script and funeral banquet
roses near the pit how she hated the thorns
would have preferred a blackberry hedge
dandelion and nettles for butterflies to feed
a cardboard box instead of marble and wood
for a worm feast of mortal impermanence
better to close the shutters than holding on
to a story she had narrated in full view of
short lived longevity in transit of past merit
and yet she lived on in memories and
the grace that she deserved for always
sticking to the belief and sturdy conviction
embraced by compassion and kindness
captured in a hole in the grounds of demise
entangled in truths conjecture and refutation
she watched on as they just would not let go
of remembrance and the dance of the dead
until they read a poem she had written
as she shuddered at the misplaced apostrophe
‘live and let; die as you please’
26th July 2021
Where I live, you have to ask for one.
And there may not be one
but you know how it used to be and
now you don't, so much.
Lighten up anyway, 'cause hey
and hay didn't used to be so
far away from those
incredible cafe ashtrays.
Once upon a time
in a not-so-distant land
floors of stores pretended to be
ashtrays.
Now we grind all sortsa
other stuff in our stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CAFE MUSING by Nancy Jones
how i feel, silly, spoken word, write,
Submitted for contest
Punctuation Personified!
Mind your use of me when making a full stop with finishing your point
This can either overstate or understate your completed thought
I find I mean you no disrespect stating when you are to be done
And undeniably I will triple my point by putting it on and on and…
Purposing a new thought but leaving it to speculate on its finish
Oh reader and poet sorry I am, I mean you no harm, but make a stand to stop
My cousin the semi-colon can stop most thoughts as well with additions to more
But it permits you to unfold many measured thoughts to make your point
Which I do well to end with a stop right then and there if need be to your case
Your written thoughts need clarity and commas to breath before continuing on
But again I mean no ill by putting a full stop finally to a long winded run
My fancy cousin the exclamation mark gives a bold thought notice to take note
He does like to dress things up a bit but it is my period you need in the end
Always please, I am but your most important tool fashioned grammatically
I didn't set these rules used in writing thoughts it was you thought them up
Comet Punctuation - Haiku
murky water, still
jungle web vegetates silk
comet punctures pond
Dictionary in hand Bobbies
manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
a comma dated,
(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati
creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
Enterprise surprise rated,
as an unbelievable well Spock kin
Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
where elderly residents waited
this other worldly architectural phenomenon
didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
of the world prominant
as a buck toothed over bite
yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
Thence trumpeting amidst
nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
some flying unseen
as period size drones taking flight
other more sophisticated
electronic accouterments
dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
shaped flower buds scaling height
of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during
feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
ribbon cutting ceremony,
and after words right
ting up citations slyly
slipped under windshield wipers
as the madding massed crowdsource,
would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
English figures of speech
uttering unstinting (quote unquote)
premature ejaculations,
eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited
by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle
during the split infinitive Sumer season
(exclamation point) no more to write!
What is this thing called love
Or what is this thing called, love
Once again a comma
Adds spice to the saga
Remember your commas, all else above
digits, emojis, abcs
compose a code
an irregular ode
void of literacy
cursive, capitalization, punctuation
go old school
immediate mass communication
has no rule.
how we connect
changes with time
words can’t reflect
your heart and mine
It was just a few millennia ago
we stepped past the fire in front of the cave
and set upon the building of a tongue--
noun to verb to adjective, each an answer
for awhile until we knew that there was more.
Then when we could communicate, and think,
new options were there to dazzle us:
That which makes of routine a stopping point;
that which wrings creativity from an ordinary life.
diverting us from "now" to "perhaps."
For a little while tranquility reigned,
to set the heart ablaze.
Comma, period, ellipsis, question--
we were carried away. Home was the heartland;
sorrow, joy, grief and celebration could be ours.
The breath, however, could not be confined
to marks beside the words when humankind
would yield to hate and love.
Those contend within us still; the field
more wide than life or death.
It is the words that tear at us.
Devices decorate as writers' servants
and there is no end. The life calls forth
its irony and ghosts alone are left,
bearing their question marks
into an unknown forever.
~
i searched everywhere in the room the desktop inside of all desk drawers opened the leaves of books and examined every page and even shook them down to see if a dot falls off but the dot i was looking for was not there and that is why i swept every corner of the room and looked into collected dust in the pan for a dot although i do not know why i have no way to find the dot or may have hidden from me is so important i could not forget it and therefore stepped out from the house carrying a knapsack on my back for the dot would not answer my ardent call or be found in the field in the dale in the meadow on the mountaintop or even by the waters i turned my wandering feet to the gods acre where stones standing as the pillars or laying pillows under moonlight thinking there may will be a dot that some dead man has left before he went
Much to my consternation,
I see poems, lacking punctuation!
It would seem my poetic friend,
the latest and modern trend
is to write without indication,
of a poet’s true inclination.
Pray how, ask I, can we
understand what we see,
without capitals or colon,
full stops - the list goes on,
including commas and queries?
This reader often wearies
in his effort to understand
lines written out of hand,
without such an accessory!
Such are truly necessary
to show a poet’s intention.
To add suspense or dimension,
they are a basic fundamental
which is often instrumental
in allowing us to empathise,
with the poet. It’s no surprise
to find confusion often reigns
without these literary reins
that control the words we write!
Without? The results are trite
lines that deny all perception!
Punctuation, without exception
is required, as is every word.
Absent? Results are oft absurd!
If your work you’d have me read?
punctuation is an essential need.
In truth if my lines were without?
The gist of this dissertation, I doubt
you’d get its intended meaning. For me
punctuation is an essential necessity.
Therefore - and in this I’m not alone,
if you have a yen to write poetry?
Ensure it is punctuated, properly,
or with one look - that’s all I need,
I’ll move on, with the greatest speed!
Rhymer. Janaury 2nd, 2017.
Imperfection ... it reveals a flaw,
Let's banish this word out the door,
Here's a revelation
Add some punctuation
I'm Perfection ... this phrase I adore!
11/21/20