Best Rectangle Poems
How far do the ripples spread, when eventually we die
Probably stay in the locality, level off, no major outcry
But let’s say we’re famous, suffering unexplained death
The ripples keep expanding, growing further in breadth
See the grotesque nature of spin, is to overplay a scene
Garnishing public outrage, lurid pictures fill our screens
Playing to an audience, ratings become the holy grail
Stories without embellishments, grow tiresomely stale
These ripples are an illusion, imagination going berserk
Carried along by a corrupt deception, truth been shirked
Evidence the one requirement, for establishing all facts
I extrapolate backwards, what the hell there’s no splash
Lines converge into partial truths, confused to a degree
Must be taken with a pinch of salt, querying what I see
Even this soup we enjoy, is manipulated and massaged
Most of the poems are quite good, others form a mirage
Taken out of context a rectangle, can become a square
Brought into focus, desolate pictures, not quite so bare
What’s basically a clean stab, or slash across the wrist
When poets stick in the knife, some give it a good twist
Using poetry for a hidden agenda, political or otherwise
Tantamount to mind-numbing crap, seen in the tabloids
If your going to post propaganda, to further some game
Write it on toilet paper, wipe off, that’s all you’ve gained
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
rectangle, allusion, corruption, prejudice, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
Since a young age,
I've learned how to see
beyond the darkness -
but what has become of me?
Surrounded by blackness
and eerie silence,
gasping for air,
I can't move,
feeling lifeless and helpless.
What is happening to me -
is this paralysis of sleep
or a lucid nightmare.
Cramped for space
placed in a horizontal rectangle -
I can't feel my heart beat.
I'm afraid to close my eyes,
because then, no one will rescue me
maybe it's better if I fall asleep.
It's getting cold,
I can hear raindrops -
or is it my mother's tears.
I try to scream for her,
but the tongue is silent.
Am I hallucinating
or are they my father's hands
help me dad, help me...
Simple Musing
17 October 2020
Wanted to leave this poem open to interpretation.
Categories:
rectangle, analogy, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
In silent hours till nightfall
When shadows grow long before fading
Heart thumps, a deep longing,
a soft knocking on a door still closed
Shy and introverted
As if saying: if I knock too hard
will I knock you over
and send you away forever?
I listen quietly as moon light
creates lonely silhouettes
on the far wall where your picture hung,
a faded rectangle, bleached by evasive desires
wondering who could be knocking
as I have been lost for so long,
to be found again is as frightening,
as it is dream-like
Fear to open the rusty door
to a heart, starving to find you.
Caught in a lullaby of moonlight
louder than fear can sing
Reunite me with you, hammer
your imprint in me, on the
bare walls of my loving soul
where you still live
And I hear the breathing
in a once empty corridor of numbers
random order, tarnished brass digits,
above patterned carpeting
foot worn and tattered,
I have heard them all, never once
stopping at mine, the one without,
unassuming, invisible to most,
slowly opening
Near the defensive rectangled door
I sit fending the creaking,
of the almost lost voice that's mine.
And while I search on the worn wall for
fringed marks of years past, you enter.
I find in your face the wrinkles
of time, wondrous ripples in a soft smile
And I am lost in you.
***
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
May 3, 2017
Categories:
rectangle, love, metaphor, , Lullaby,
Form:
Free verse
I fly on wing of song.
Twenty-three miles out of Atlanta
soaring like an eagle traveling from DC
thirty-six thousand miles high
Fly, fly away
Through the blue hues of morning
white fluffiness lie below towards earth
puffy white and gray cotton-like softness
gently moving on windsong
feeling like a Welsh princess
watching o’er her universe.
I see the world through a rectangle
looking out over the airplane’s wing
reaching outward and upward.
Soaring like hope
Moving like faith
Solid span of charity
Humming motor onward bound joyful sound
A higher plane than I have found;
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground
wind under my winged sails
I’m pressing on the upward way.
Arrows painted on wingspan
pointing left as we travel right
viewing “safety line attach point”
feeling secure way up here
three flapjacks adjusting the wind flow
reminding of Father, Son and Holy Spirit
pouring through keeping my soul.
Upward outward incline
continuous motion held by metal strength
while thin white clouds pass by.
Heaven’s sky still far far away
no matter how far up one gets God is farther still
beyond the blue somewhere higher.
Sitting assured as my mind presses on—
landing soon will come
back to earth world
where I belong.
@2011 – Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
Categories:
rectangle, universe,
Form:
Imagism
A hexagon, a hexagon, you have to be a hexagon.
You say you are a pentagon?
What use have I for pentagon?
You’re too close to the White House lawn!
So you’re a base to stand upon?
This isn’t baseball, Pentagon.
You silly polygon, be gone!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are a nonagon.
A nonagon? What good are YOU?
A coin perhaps, from Timbuktu??
You’re nothing, nonagon. Come on!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are a decagon.
I guess you think you are a star.
I don’t need someone quite so far
up in the heavens where you are.
I need, instead, a hexagon.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are an octagon.
You’ve got some versatility!
A mirror, tiles, candles too.
They all can be the shape of you.
But on the streets I always see
your sign. It makes me have to stop.
I do not think you are for me!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
A triangle you’ve now become?
A simple flag? Three-sided crumb?
I know that as an instrument
you are not much! I find you dumb.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
A rectangle you try to be
and now a square. You don’t fool me!
I find you oh so ordinary.
Crackers or Monopoly,
or crossword puzzles I don’t need
and Sponge Bob – yep – that’s “square” indeed!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
And so you are a circle now?
you’ve got no point, you “walking round in circles” cow.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon.
I want those feathered flakes of snow
with crystals of six sides to show.
I need the shape of many eyes
that see more colors than we know -
the eyes of flitting dragonflies!
I need the carbon chain of DNA
and pretty patterns on the shell
of tortoises. Okay, okay!
You are a hexagon, you say?
Come let me have a taste. Don’t tease!
You are the honeycomb of bees!
So sweet you are; you are my *salve.
I now have got a hexagon;
you're now the thing I had to have!
*In American English: salve uses silent l and rhymes with have.
Sept 15, 2019 For Nina Parmenter's "Welcome to My Random World" Contest
Categories:
rectangle, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Dust settles
Vibrations loosen
the dust on my piano,
releasing tiny particles
into a rectangle sunbeam
dancing about the glass,
as I play compositions
on freeform keys,
fingered imagination
frantically moving
levers in never before
heard melodies
with a locked
sustain pedal
holding each note
to gradually evanesce
into the silence
awaiting your return
as the dust
once again
settles
3/22/17
For the "Dust" poetry contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
Categories:
rectangle, missing you,
Form:
Free verse
Awaking I find with a click of the eyes,
Little rectangles all colors floating,
Floating and waiting suspended in my brain, so I
“Choose morning duties” – there’s an app for that,
A rectangle lights up, “Feed the cat.”
“Put on your shoes,” a link I click,
“Go walking,” my eyes blink “, and I get my coat;
“Arrow down to ‘music,” blink (an app for that)
Scroll to “Vivaldi, Hum and be happy,” click.
Internal am I as I jog by and by,
I see you--the eyes click “Greetings,” “How are you,”
How did I arrive in this awful tech state?
Trying to know all and be bright as you?
If I’m really smart, I’ll return to my heart,
Blink “delete all” and be free, and be true.
Categories:
rectangle, humorous, satire,
Form:
Free verse
catalyse of chalk
circles sooted box, reveals
the vortex inside
stakes open her eyes
pries into her private life
draws blood with madness
insists a deep cut of ties
a vampire’s bite sucks
glistens under moon-lightning
with darkening of iris
the rectangle shut
and discomforting inside
the satin lining
that swaddles her until when
feeds the lack of blood pressure
buried in the earth
instead of mausoleum
means she is fated
until flood rains dredge her up
bitterly famished and ripe
her tormentor’s plot
enjoying her plight of pangs
and her screaming fangs
that engulf her first victim
she begs a silver bullet
…and who will shoot first
the gun, with no reflection,
or the too-white teeth?
does lover want to join her
or distribute her ashes?
the two quick rounds nail
tormentor, his protogé
bloodthirst vanishes
end of bad day, sky’s crimson
and the hungry are looming.
Categories:
rectangle, scary,
Form:
Free verse
I heard a knock-knocking on the door.
It was my childhood self, visiting my adult life.
What had I achieved? it asked,
and where had I been?
Was pay equal yet? it wanted to know,
is heaven still a dream?
Heaven, it pondered, is it here on earth
in butterfly wings and melting snow?
It is spiralling in Dante’s nine circles, loved by Venus,
or simply in the cry of a new-born?
Heaven, it mused, is it above us in the air,
exploding in stardust, travelling like light to an eye?
Is it cradled between fingertips in a Vatican chapel,
or is it felt in pats on the back, any small success?
I looked at my childhood self,
unsure of this placed called Heaven.
Was it aflame inside a Jewish Menorah,
or walking in Jannah, a Muslim-named paradise?
Was it in beads of blood upon a crown of thorns,
or swaddled with first born sons chosen as a sacrifice?
So, with forefingers and thumbs I
made a rectangle with both hands.
“It’s in here”, I told my childhood self, “whatever
you see in this space from where you stand.”
Categories:
rectangle, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
Why there's is a God Proportions divine hand spirals. He's shaping patterns not chaos. Artwork pleasing to the eye the golden rectangle. Clearly seen by His creation check your double helix in every cell. Not theory
Categories:
rectangle, art, creation, education, jesus,
Form:
Fibonacci
I am a very special shape; I have four sides and four lines straight.
Look beyond my words, and see the shape that I am destined to
Be. I'm not just random words drawn out of thin air, I am much
More than that. I am a quadrilateral with four right angles and I
Have two lines of reflectional symmetry and rotational symmetry.
My angles are rectilinear; my sides meet at right angles. You
Learn this at school with your ABC's, practice your studies and
You will see some other fine examples of me.
Categories:
rectangle, children
Form:
Concrete
To tennis
What a cracking sport
To play, to lose all worldly cares.
Returning
To the tennis court –
That small rectangle, out of time;
Win or lose
It doesn’t matter,
I’ll keep my focus on the game,
Satisfy
My ruthless nature
With tuneful thwack of gut on rubber.
One set all,
It’s forty-thirty:
A sizzling ace secures the game.
Up above
In beech tree grandstand,
A crowd of rooks croak their applause.
With topspin,
Drop-shot, forehand smash,
Exhausting rally,……. gasp for breath,
All too soon,
Game, set and match, then
It’s back to work, my lunchtime spent.
Categories:
rectangle, sports,
Form:
Fibonacci
Love In The Library
by Edmund Siejka
( East Of Seventh, poems by Edmund Siejka available on Amazon)
He was a scrawny kid
In 1st grade his lunch money
Often disappeared
By the 5th he was street wise.
Mother worked in an office
And Dad assembled radios in a factory on the West Side
On his own most of the day
He had a choice
Of going to the Boy’s Club
Or the library
For some reason
The library became his favorite place
A place of books and knowledge
A place of hushed voices
Bespectacled librarians
Hard wooden chairs
Light maple rectangle wooden desks
Marred by carved initials
Grownups
Reading
Sleeping
Or glancing at their watches
That’s where he met Susan.
She was twelve years old
A year older
A little taller
Red hair and freckled face
Aggressive
Attractive
And smart
She asked if he would walk her home
To a tall apartment house
On 12th Street
Bricks the color of pale mustard
Leaving her by the lobby elevator
He listened to its muffled sound
Gliding effortlessly
To a place he was never invited.
In the privacy of his room
He dreamed of her
Incessantly
Clutching his pillow tightly
Making believe it was her
Blood flowing
Roaring sounds in his ears
Dreaming that they were always together
Holding hands.
She, wearing a starched white shirt
Carelessly unbuttoned
Looking deeply into his eyes
As he leaned forward to kiss
Her with every passion he could muster
That Spring
His days were inspired
With dreams of her.
One rainy morning
Awakened by familiar kitchen sounds
He wandered in
Yawning
Arms folded
Fighting the morning chill
As a feeble day
Silhouetted the rims of the fire escapes
And the sea of blacktopped tenements.
In the misty light
Among the empty rooftops
She danced in the air
Her body turning
Twisting
Spiraling away from him
A fixed smile on her face
Mocking,
Mocking,
Mocking him.
Categories:
rectangle, life, , 1st grade,
Form:
Narrative
WOMEN SECRETS
Someone stretches his neck
Whenever she passes
Someone makes a nodding chuckle
Whenever she was heard talking
At times we brawled in pepper arguments
And she never suspects one thing
Theres nothing seen so better
What is seen is geometric triumphs
What is heard is hypnotic octaves
A walking triangle talking Ewe, Ga and Twi
A walking rectangle eating Akple, Komi and Fufu
A walking hour-glass dancing Atsiagbekor, Kpanlogo and Adowa
Yes ! a miracle of a woman
What set us yowling
Never seen from the side
But always from the her back and her face
That beauty of a woman
That buttocks of a woman
That breast of a woman
Her worth that scaled down Bank of Ghana
her voice that down-pitched the Beethoven
A babies thrown where they are nurtured
Fathers heaven where virility trives
Woman Ayekoo !
Categories:
rectangle,
Form:
Free verse
How did America declare its independence day,
A successful war which gained America's freedom against England.
A war fought with sacrifice. It conquered it's freedom July Four Seventeen seventy-six.
It has been celebrated for two hundred forty-one years
A long battle fought against England after the Revolutionary War.
A feud amongst two countries to secure our homeland.
The no taxation which began to cause tension and chaos amongst settlers and British.
Over laws which many disagreed upon.
Upon many riots, many tossed tea over the sea.
Later became known as the Boston Tea Party.
During seventeen seventy-three.
In honor of fourteen colonies
America shot its ammunition fourteen times loudly.
Every American knew it was in honor of our fourteen established Colonies.
Even then Americas flag only had fourteen stars
Which represented each state in America.
Two hundred forty-one years later.
Americas flag now has fifty-one stars
Americas flag is red, white and blue.
It has fifty-one small stars on the top left corner
All in a roll inside a small rectangle
The background behind the fifty-one stars is blue
On the right side of the fifty-one stars, the flag has medium size stripes
The color of the stripes are white and red
They play a pattern which follows red white red white horizontally
A flag is placed on a pole so it doesn't touch the floor
Every star represents each country.
The white house even has a memorial place for every fallen hero
Many do not know Americas Declaration of Independence wasn't signed
On July four Seventeen Seventy-Six.
The declaration was signed after each voted in favor of Richard Henry Lee
The actual date it was truly signed was on August two seventeen seventy-six
Two months after it conquered its freedom from Great Britain.
America celebrates its independence day annually to celebrate its victory against Great Britain.
Categories:
rectangle, dedication, firework, freedom, ,
Form:
Free verse