Best Readers Poems
To My Dear Readers,
Another year is ending with a bright new "2025" beginning.
I want to give you a huge "Thank You" for your support.
This means the world to me.
It has been fun reading your Wonderful comments over the many months.
May you enjoy your Holiday Season.
Remember, Jesus is the Reason for Christmas.
Gifts are always nice to give and get.
Giving yourself and time can mean much more.
I Wish You Blessings, Love, Peace, Health and Wealth
In The Coming New Year "2025," Paula...........
E-xcellent
L-ines
L-et
I-nspired
S-cribe
P-oetically
A-maze
R-eaders
K-eenly
E-mploying
R-ighteous
B-irthday
U-nder
T-he
L-itterateur's
E-xceptional
R-egards
Topic: Birthday of poet Ellis Parker Butler (December 05)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Some readers questioning my quest,
Of modern poets- who is the best?
Although, the question is not hard,
I shy away with a grieving heart
Inside of me a constant fight,
Because, I cannot be forthright
*
To name the others?.... I hate to lie!
Or praise myself ? .... I'm just too shy!
I've read it three times and it still makes no sense
What's this all about I'm so frustrated I just want
to throw the bloody thing out. Who is she and
what is he? All these forms, Haiku, Tanka, Senury
Who are they? I don't have a clue, sounds
like foreign diplomats that's the rue.
Metaphors that are really hard to figure out,
makes my head hurt that's what I'm
talking about.
Just shoot it to me straight that would sure
be great.
For Judy Konos contest
Put yourself in the readers shoes
deadline September 4, 2011
Go struggle, battle if ye must your battles,
No consent need ye nod if ye should not,
You're not among them that for U-turn settles,
Let the whole world stay put whereso it sought
To be. Love, let it soil your snow white shirt,
To dance one's heart out no one needs a coach,
Love, worry not of that one-off vague hurt,
Dance, as if no one's out there you to watch.
Get up and pen your own little poem,
Whether or not world condescends to read,
Go to etch out your own distinct emblem,
Say what you must, let no one may pay heed.
So here’s that little poem, dear readers,
That knows to settle for no reverse gears.
_______________________________________________
Sonnets | 01.12.05 |
Topic: poem, poet
Poet's note: The octave here gives an impression that one is encouraged for some battle, an expedition, or do something rare. But the sestet brings the reader down, oh all this fuss to write just a poem! But think again, is it so easy to write a first poem, or even a very first love letter?
Sorry I haven't been here to comment on all your wonderful response to my work and me to read all you marvelous poets - but my internet and phone usage ( because of a sibling) is well over my allotted monthly costs and I now have big bill; So I want be on to read or comment for a few days till I get my new credits for my phone and internet.
Blessings- I do miss spending time with you all, Brenda : )
The ugly face of racism and Anti Semitism
are rearing up in this land
The problem is not one we can solve
unless we take note of the sense of decency
within us
I am no saint
yet I believe that
I can change and so can you
out there in the darkness
This poem goes out to all the readers
of poetysoup.com
Vote anyway you want to
But you must fight hate within and without
So pick up your pens
AND DO IT
"The secrecy chamber of poets which untold"
When do the soul of poets sincerely revealed?
Reversed to their silent words
Reversed to the colors of their worlds
Spineless, spaceless, beautifully saved behind the shapes of those letters
Could you sense?
When the rage prevailed and the turbulence weaved the wounds?
Or when their world raised and lived like there were two moons?
Infinite thoughts brought the beauty patterns of their spectrums
When the soul of poets sincerely revealed
Would you flee from the essence?
Or just pretend like you don't care?
Will you be true?
Questions took their queues
The row of answers await behind the backbone of mystery
Chased the essence of each poetry
The readers are the King, the privilege of judge may on their grip
But we are the weavers,
Any-who may join on comfort
Welcome to the blanket of our warmth
The only book teaching humanism;
The only which cures locoism;
One and only poem for lyricism
Is Reader’s Digest’s mechanism.
If you see it through any prism
Can find joy, fun, thrill and sarcasm
This is a weak agent of nihilism;
This is the best known idealism
Where all spend individualism
To receive mental masochism.
Reading it is just like mesmerism.
Without it school suffers gargoylism.
Indian tradition or let be Maoism,
It is well read and accepted optimism.
I don't use vulgar thoughts,
I don't use vulgar quotes,
I don't use vulgar names
'cos I don't want that transient fame.
Some of the thoughts that stain, stay
Thoughts that stay, eventually fade away.
Some won't fade, they stay and linger
Neither in a quick sneeze nor the snap of a finger.
I'm not a person with two fake names,
Use the other name when put to blame.
If you come after me for repayment,
My silence does not make you the claimant.
I know poetry is considered to be a fine art
but I don't know to use big words to sound smart.
I'm not wise enough to pen down on wisdom,
But some of their delusions are not a part of my system.
I write in a language that I barely speak,
Scribbling for gaiety is all that I seek,
Sometimes its pointless when you try to make me worthless
'Cos that doesn't automatically make you worthwhile.
Oh yes, I do respect constructive criticisms,
Not the one that spreads hatred and cold cynicism.
But if useless fights are a part of your custom,
I don't mind as long as I have that 'block' button.
I don't care if you like what I write
'Cos all I do is write what I like.
You cant blame me for my distinctive choice,
'Cos its the conviction of my inner voice.
SENSELESS PUMPKIN READERS
Peter peter hated meter
All words seemed like seven feeters
So he only read haiku
never wrote more lines than two
Peter peter wanted more
wrote all winter-- managed four
But by spring sun thawed the first
And so he read it in reverse
This is nonsense Lear style poetry....
words for words sake.....
for rhyme and sound.....
Reverence affects yours
truly with unmeasurable
infinite jubilant zeal,
sans unbeknownst world wide
(web stirred) fans enamored
with me poetry induce
cogs of mine
noggin to wheel
write (thru the roof),
thus I feel impelled
to spell out
appreciation to those
die hard regular followers
or one time cyber reader,
who (minnie mull lee)
move mouse or gingerly
(collude) manipulate trackpad
motioning qua thumbwheel
scrolling thru each
rich text chord
line figuratively aswarm
with multisyllabic words planted,
cultivated and harvested,
where eyes feast
visually soaking up
mine magic charm
(albeit wrought by
this modest male),
whose virtual crafted
figurative humble Georgia based
Orwellian animal farm
revels with euphoria
more precious then,
(you guessed) bajillion
banked bagged loot
(of quartz without
taking for granite)
die hard aficionados tub hoot,
these stalwart re:dears,
asper scratchings
of this ole coot
oft times curious what attracts
dedicated trooping veterans
(undoubtedly war re:)
like avast horde of
buzzfeed ding flies to fruit,
or motivated students
subjecting her/him self
partial to mental taxation
(without representation)
i.e. (trying to make sense
of confounding poetry authored
by Matthew Scott Harris)
at the select particular institute,
the very same college (within Lake
Woebegone) this alumni
made popular upon being
recognized as a verb hose,
re: noun sub bull
("FAKE" Norwegian bachelor) guy.
hello every one im sorry for my lengthy abcense. i havent had internet access till now.
however i decided to add a q&a to my section. i wil be answering questions that are mailed to me .
also i have some new poems to add so take care i hop you like the poems thier diffrent from those ive posted before.
"The pen must go where the pen wants to go." By Poet
Who is the poet?
They are dreamers about words and life,
making both come to life for their readers.
A true poet's quill,
writes from their loving and creative heart.
Did you know, August 18,
Is National "Bad" Poetry Day?
One day of the year all writers,
have a chance to make a change with their words.
Can we remember a rhyme is to rhyme?
not kind of or sort of rhyme.
A Limerick is five lines of funny,
not sad or depressing words.
Many have told me,
less words can be more meaningful.
I am stopping here,
and having a fun day writing away with my quill.
Glorified and sanctified
by all these tomes,
blessed and praised, exalted,
extolled and honored,
adored and lauded
in the name of these wondrous vintage books,
acclaimed
in the name of poetry and science fiction
and lost race adventures,
sorrows and consolations,
abundance and peace,
dreams and losses
and dreaming still in celestial libraries,
Amen.