Get Your Premium Membership

Best Smart Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Smart poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of smart poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Smart poems, articles about Smart poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Smart poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

New Smart Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Smart poems are below this new poems list.

Smart Phones by Moorman, Curtis
PLAY THIS SMART by cooper, jack
Smart US by Flame, Poetic
Even Smart Asses Will Bow by Hunter, Daniel
Smart Cookies by Ellison, Jack
Smart Phone And Sleep Walker by CHUAN SENG, KENG
Stupid smart by Hopper, Anna
Try To Be Smart by Behm, Kurt Philip
Smart As A Crow by Ellison, Jack
I know a smart fella called Tom by Talbot, Mick

View all new Smart Poems

The Best Smart Poems

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Never Surrender

I'm a grit teeth beginner breaking out the cage,
growing stronger and fitter with wit coming of age,
squeezing letters out of lemons got me in a rage,
but this bitter will get better and steal the stage.

I'm out to lay a new way suitable to a renegade,
angrily squashing this yellow fruit into lemonade,
using the skin to pave a golden route in the trade,
writes rooted in the age of this transitional upgrade.

No scourge can submerge the courage I preserve
under the surface, that purrs with an urge
to hand carve words with power and purpose,
this marvellous occurrence repeatedly emerges  
and surges undoubtedly delivering superb verses.

Attempts to pull curtains on my spirit,
only teach knowledge that I inherit,
I react and catch before impact to my merit
and you can't collapse the soul of this poet.

Everyone falls but my core's impenetrable,
and my mental resilience is unbreakable,
they can't remove something unshakeable,
trying is a mistake that'll make you miserable.

I've learnt to benefit from attempted attacks 
aimed to prevent the way that I vent and act,
catching the weaponry and adding to my stack,
I've a determination that I'll never let crack. 

I'll elevate as I stimulate with flow,
and levitate the audience to show,
I'm able to continuously demonstrate
that my work is something to celebrate,
even though my opinion will make them hate.

Coming back is what I do,
don't make me come back for you! 

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.


You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.

I will ruffle trouble 
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base 
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.

When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool, 
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top. 

(Chorus x2)

That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls 
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories 
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger 
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.

(Chorus x2)

You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words 
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.

(Chorus x2)

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Self Doubt

It is a fact that before I wrote True Colours,
I was stuck in a world of black and white bipolar,
encaged in my seat on a non stop rollercoaster,
eating one meal a day cooking bread in a toaster.

Do you know if from here I should.....
Nope wait, if it was you then would....
No I hesitate, before I wasn't sure I could
write so shall I carry on with doubt I'm good.

Should I continue to write?
Stick at it and improve I could?
Would I get better each night?
It's tricky to know if I'm good.

I wish for a talent but it's not apparent,
it's something I want but maybe I haven't.

I'm a thoughtful fighter
with a physical dominance,
who puts pen to paper
with a mental confidence.

The anxiety causes stress
and that makes me a messy mess too,
nonetheless I guess all I can do,
is pursue hopelessness whilst I continue
to harness this writing skill and improve,
while I remain myself and stay true,
or I could give up what do I choose?

It's amazing how the praise can make me lazy,
and all because the bar was raised. 
To think that that's where it remains is crazy,
without the application my skill decayed.

Living off past glories and falsely self assured,
hides the fact the present leaves them bored.
The reward is forgotten without consistency
and the reputation plummets into history.

You need to bounce from test to test like a ball,
contest with the very best and prove you're no fool,
then you must not allow the standards to fall,
you must allow a new hunger to be installed.

I continuously doubt what I am all about,
I'm a drought that sprouts limited amounts,
it's the same bounce of the ball in all my bouts,
my mouth shouts in repetition and I've lost count.

I continuously doubt what I'm all about,
I'm constantly worried and living in doubt,
I'm in a black hole will I ever get out,
I continuously doubt so that's what I'm about.

Why would I refuse to continue after I didn't refuse to begin. 

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Stupid smart

What does it look like
From over there
Describe the sights
No details spared 

How does it taste
Is it always delicious
By the look on your face
I’m a bit suspicious

I happen to be
Opposite to you
On the humanity tree
Like yellow and blue

I imagine your half
An enlightened bunch
No need for math
Just an arrogant hunch

It seems quite ironic
To say the least
That, in fact, you’re ignorant
Yet too smart to see

Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Split In The Road

Depression will steal your motivation and desire,
and use it to build a heap and then light it on fire.
You'll start to feel hate much more, but for no reason,
and your behaviour toward close ones nears treason.

The drugs and alcohol you use do not help your mind.
When you're hooked on one or the other you don't unwind.
You don't connect with girls because your head needs a rest,
and before you knew it was depression you weren't reaching to be your best.

The daily drugs and booze cause emotions to supress,
and never being sober with them present causes stress,
and what do you do to take it easy? You get high off your face,
and that buries the unresolved down and harder to trace.

But you are young, healthy and handsome,
avoiding fruit and veg eating burgers in buns.
You get high into the early hours and then pass out,
so you're unbearable at work, with anger you shout.

And you start to ignore little problems, you keep them inside,
your humour turns into tense, and from friends you divide.
You would have talked things through, but now you just hide,
and your mate lives this lifestyle too, so the friendship slowly dies.

Things you don't agree on create stress to just respect.
So you think you're no longer alike and the bond is wrecked.
You end up alone and isolated but, the lifestyle stays true,
you sit there writing poems because you don't know what to do.

But you'll tell your mate to read this because it reaches beneath.
You can forget to say things in conversation and fail to clear grief.
We were both in a bad place and our friendship met a thief,
it became political and about sides but now that's an old leaf.

We never actually fell out, and never exchanged fists,
maybe we were both paranoid and that was the fateful twist.
All the others were starting a plan while our life's fell to bits,
we messed each others life up with our very same bad habits.

We probably had to drift to find our own perspective,
sever the link and walk alone to develop how we live.

It'll never be near to what it was like before, but, we've an unbroken bond, 
we fell out with all the others but from one another we just wondered,
I don't need to wonder I'm sure that there is still more beyond,
what went wrong for so long will prove good and right in yonder.

Sometimes in life we need our space,
but it doesn't mean that all is lost,
things need to move before they fall into place,
and in a few years we will say it was worth the cost.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Mouse

We have a mouse in the house.
Not an average mouse
But rather a mouse with some nous 
That trips traps as it goes traipsing through the house.
A mouse whose downfall I am planning 
Even while I am jotting.

A foolproof trap I will find, 
Before I go out of my mind. 

It will be one of a kind,
That will attest to my state of mind. 
And show beyond doubt that I have more nous
Than a mouse.

It will send a message to all mouse kind
That it is time to leave this city behind
In case I lose my nous 
And sacrifice the house to get rid of a mouse. 

Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.


the shortest road
is the one that you know
the longest road
is the one that you love

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Misjudged by History - NOT

President Barack
Teaches as Mother taught us 
"Speak Respectfully"

contest-Senyru of being misjudged

Copyright © Judy Konos | Year Posted 2015

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Aminus Brain

I am of soft, delicate skinned casing,
Housing an iron, logical facing.

I grant my femininity free reign
To follow dictates of my manlike brain.

My seductive charms can attract a man,
But he may run far once I show my hand.

My quick, mental wit delivered deadpan
Cannot be handled by males with no span.

Only those of equal mental process
Will see my smile and know any access.

Feelings don’t phase my skill to analyze,
Even when I flash my come-hither eyes.

I don’t have masculine strength or muscle,
But in games deductive, I can tussle.

Call me feminine, demure or girly,
Such true adjectives won’t find me surly.

Color my world with sheer lace all pearly,
Just remember my sharp brain is burly.

... CayCay Jennings, a Libra
May 27, 2016

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.


     Intelligence rises from ignorance when elevated by common sense...

     One Liner Contest
     Sponsored By Silent One

Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Thoughts on a Jezebel

Because she was a buxom blonde
and he lacked a sage Adviser, 
(like a naïve fresh off the pond)
he fell for and idealized her.

If he had been but the wiser
and much more careful with his heart
as if he were a mean miser,
he’d have ne’er been fooled right from the start. 

Poems for one of cheap, impure heart
make the Poet look un-clever
and like a fool, which is not smart:
hence his case from her did he sever!

A lesson learned late than never
is much better than to be fooled, 
played, conned, gulled and duped forever—
and so in her cheap wont he is schooled.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Not Afraid Part 1

This cannot repeat or loop around anymore, in my direction,
I've had the wind kicked out of my sails, due to depression.
And everyday 
I hide away 
and I'm not displaying 
the fight that I'm saying.

I'm down inside and sink,
I'm more flipping down than you'd think.
Lost for love and lost for laughter,
facing upto my fears always ends in disaster 
with anxiety,
so I'm always down and doubting me
a desert there's a drought in me
while rain downpours are drowning me
the logic's leaking out of me.
A mist hides the positivity 
you find in creativity.

From an infant up to those last lines thinking I can't do s--t,
so life devoured me. 
I need to shake that habit,
this talent aint transparent and I wont bow out cowardly.

I'm wasting my worth, 
but have a thunderous thirst, 
to rediscover some turf. 
Watch me now and you'll witness, 
as I drift with the surf, 
and wet the earth, 
of this desert, 
as I sweat on the dirt.

You just heard now watch and observe!

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Why Won't You Play With Me

He and I went to the same school,
we were in the same class.

He never studied with me
or played with me.

He was too cool for me
and I didn't know how.

When we each went our separate ways,
back to our homes,
he had help with his studies,
while sometimes I found supper.

He got to sleep with just a blanket,
feeling warm and toasty,
while I slept with just a blanket, too, feeling cold as if I was outside,
perhaps I was.

I never wished I was him,
why would I?
why would I want to be someone,
someone who wouldn't want to play with me?

He never got the higher grade.
Now as he receives his paycheck from me,
he asks me how.
How did I?

I paused and smiled,
you never played with me,
no one did,
so I kept myself busy.

He said thank you for his bonus,
I said, no!
Thank you for not playing with me.

Copyright © Anna A. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Dream

I dream of a world of unique identity,
where we don't group individuals for simplicity.
I dream of a world where you can't accuse systems,
where self reflection and responsibility prevents victims.

I dream that mankind be skin colour blind,
I dream that we respect faith of all kind.
I dream that your gender is valued equal,
I dream of equality for gay, bi, lesbian and transgender people.

They used to discriminate against the left handed.
They used to be powerless to what Kings demanded.
They used to be openly racist and it was normal.
They used to enslave and treat people awful.

Mankind has spent centuries fighting the unfair,
we've come so far now, we are almost there.
We live in groups for our safety and survival,
reaching equality with this generation is vital.

We were all helpless when we were a baby,
and we didn't have knowledge until someone taught us,
but as we grow we learn, so one day soon maybe,
this generation will make that final push toward equal status.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

It's Two Days After Thursday

Enter the Everest that devastates,
he never ever rests and he demonstrates,
how the greatness activates traits
that forever feed hate,
into enemies with envious jealousy
and sad little nul and void abilities.

It's a given that even if you sail the seven seas,
as well as trail the land you will fail,
to topple the unbeatable one,
who is second to none,
mortals don't stand equal,
the others just look feeble,
there are just no better people,
they all fall short and need support,
one by one each face returns to its common space,
with a disappearance of their cocky ways,
disgraced and put in their place.

It's total domination mate,
it sinks you into a submissive state,
I'll take your misses away on a date,
she's blowing me kisses,
she said to say you're finished,
I wish you best wishes,
in the sea there are many fishes.

She said to me
left toe,
right toe,
she turned an twerked her butt whole,
celebrate your birthday,
it's two days after Thursday,
we visited the bar mate 
because dancing makes you thirsty.
Left toe,
right toe,
and party like a hero.

I'm a quick wit picnic with sick tricks mentally,
a fantastic acrobatic doing spins and splits physically,
I'm a limey, a pommie, but it's no problem for me,
because I'm from the greatest rock poking out the sea.

My rhymes are dirty,
immature and over thirty,
insults don't hurt me,
athletic and nerdy,
so punches get returned 
and you wake up all hazy,
I'm a master of all trades,
not a jack I get "A" grades.

I'm the Go-Go God of the rhyme show,
others go, 
way to slow, like a Skoda,
I'm a force beyond NASA,
thrusting rockets out the O-Zone,
you're just a flipping bozo,
spitting rhymes that have no flow,
I'm a spitfire flyer like a yo yo,
you're just a clown falling of a pogo,
rhyming with less motion than a photo. 

I have to switch to the right when I write 'cus I'm a lefty, 
but I have to let it rest you see,
I can use both hands,
if I couldn't I wouldn't 
be able to meet my brains demand,
thoughts are short lived and out the port to sea,
or sieved out the sleeve.
I have to harbour what pours,
it doesn't rain it sores, 
so you're unlikely to upstage my quickly written
lickety split thermonuclear lit quick wit 
with whatever you pick 
to pull out your bag of tricks 
because I'll make it unstick 
quicker than thumbs can click,
and it's Trim not Nick.

I make the rest look comical, 
I rhyme well,
the rest are diabolical 
and rhyme stale,
why bag food up or clean plates,
when we can tag team up and be greats.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Imagine a man in the sky.
Imagine he created you and I.
Imagine he gave the world life.
Imagine he saves you after you die.

Imagine his unlimited magic.
He creates the glory and love,
he creates the evil and tragic.
Imagine his immortality up above.

A majestic man with the ultimate power,
watching over the growth of the flower,
watching man as man builds the tower,
watching over every second and hour.

Imagine Imagine
the man you imagine
may manage to manage mankind one day,
alleviate damage and salvage the savage,
making a peace and uniting our way.
Process the notion that conflict solves nothing,
making the planet a pleasure to inhabit.

This is a magnificent manifestation,
that you store in your creative thought station.

So now think about this,
with openmindedness,
forget what you believe,
and set your whole mind free. 

Imagination has no limits or boundaries,
you have the capability to think what you please,
but for now concentrate on these, 
pick one of the following ideas, I bet you do it with ease....

Believe that, that man must exist without question.

Believe that, that man must be a thing of fiction.

So imagine what you want to imagine,
now, in some way, it exists and it happened.
As once you imagine it, it becomes real,
and can become something that all others feel.


If you can dream that you can achieve,

and be everything that you want to be,

then aim for it and always believe,

don't lose focus or your energy,

you must keep your faith through the difficulties,

some days it may feel like it's out of reach,

it is part of the route to destiny,

be sure to seek more knowledge than they teach,

over time your dreams make reality.

That thing that was once imaginary,

has now become an actuality,

and you.... yes you..... you have the ability

to be one of the few to make history.

If you've followed this all the way through,
and you are not confused, 
then you are someone that I'm talking to.
Just go for it, and stick at it, do not give up whatever you do!

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who Shot 2Pac

Remember that commercial tool,
that fool Ja Rule.
The miniature 2Pac image imitator,
packaged and bought up but in no way similar.

Was Suge or the Illuminati really behind Pac's murder?
Suge, a dangerous man with many enemies,
while east and west were representing territories.

But Ja was a clone of Pac's identity,
now stop and think....
You see off the rival companies,
then you replicate what made them pennies.

It's not that Suge wasn't capable,
it's that someone else had more to gain from it all.

Pac was bigger than the whole of Bad Boy,
even with Biggie Pac was able to destroy.

And what gets put to market knowing it would sell,
Ja Rule and his crew, Murder Inc mocking us and well
hidden by the distraction of the stories and conspiracies
but the east coast killed Pac then benefitted financially.

And it says what it says when he went at 50 Cent,
after all Deathrow artists started a new label to be different.
Aftermath, with Dre and Shady became the main event,
once again the east coast was outdone and unable to prevent
being overshadowed and seen as less relevant.

The Game got signed in a shady way,
they made sure that the market would hear him play,
so I don't think it was Suge or the Illuminati,
when MURDER INC. is a name based on mockery.

Business leaders killed 2Pac,
they did it to be the leader of the pack.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Know IT All

I started to read at the age of three
and know all the winners on Jeopardy
have posters of Einstein all over my walls
the theory of relativity my favorite of all,

Since my parents and teachers and I all agreed
I skipped grades and earned an early Doctorate Degree
I'm a walking talking human encyclopedia
my brilliant brain to yours far superior,

Just ask me anything about history, math or science
I love to hear myself talk even about the latest appliance
in detail I'll explain to you how it all works
as I'll never quite understand your cranium quirks,

The few friends I have all belong to the same club
where the MENSA rules mean an IQ of 130 and above
when I get together with my ordinary family at the holidays
I try to explain the cosmos to them and they all walk away,

I've even heard them whisper he's just a know it all
avoiding eye contact with me as they scamper down the hall
but since I'm a rocket scientist genius I can't help but take delight
in having your full attention as I explain Einsteins theory of light,

I guess my family's new nick name for me is really quite fitting
no longer called Einstein but now known as Sheldon.


Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2017

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The English Language

Only read this if you have a good understanding of the English language, because it is all about how word spellings differ but for no particular reason.

This write is quite right in that it highlights the height and weight of the great language of English which is no sandwich and not straight forward mate.

(This right is qite wright in that it highlites the hight and waight of the greight langwich of English witch is no sanduage and not strate forward meight.)

We now know that "K" has special powers but not with knot or knock.

(We now K-now that "k" has special powers but not with not or nock.)

And people say Nike-y but they don't ride a bikey, so it's Nike like Mike.

(and people say Nikey but they don't ride a bikey, so it's NIKe LIKE MIKE, or mic.)

While they're unable to get their head around there,
they sit in a chair and stare like a bear, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where near, but like fare which is also like bare.

(While there unable to get they're head around their,
they sit in a chere and stair like a bere, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where nare, but like fair which is also bere.)

Far away cars on Mars are not said like wars, which for sure is more like bore and I'm assured that board is different to ward.

Warlords have been found to have had people drowned, not dround as it could sound, as the power of their throne has grown to fit their waist and they do not waste their God placed authority or make the mistake that the steak with cheese one grates quakes.

On the whole my soul is on a roll to score a goal with this write, because though words are spelt a different way they are spelt the same when these words we say.

I think I'm done and I've won like the Holy Son, or am shining wholly like the light from the sun.

And to think I had special needs, was labelled dyslexic and had ADHD, oh and as well as that I failed my English exam, twice.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.



hi God:

it's 3:33 in the morning and
I don't know what to do. 
everything is upside down.
there are red eyes sitting 
over the kitchen table and
they are all laughing and
eating and singing.
I haven't slept right in weeks 
and you wake me up in the 
middle of the night to write. 
I just took a pill and I'm 
waiting for it to put me down.
no one is around. 
they're out and silent. 
I have my own out and silent 
and it's in this room. 
they create a heart inside a 
man and let him sink.
I need a knock on my door 
from an old face. 
why is it when a man is soaked 
in love the rain never stops?
why is it after they create 
a heart inside a man they 
leave him to write poetry in 
bed at 3:33 in the morning?

By: Chicano Eddie

Copyright © CHICANO EDDIE | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.


The step from intelligence to wisdom could many decades take! 

© Demetrios Trifiatis
      01 August 2018

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2018

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Drunk on my Tractor

I get up early, a rancher with chores
Hay grows in fields, animals shuffle, roars
Dawn breaks its steel grey grip on my land
And I, well, I have a clear bottle clutched in hand
The first swipe, the one that burns the most
Clears the head, lifts the fog, begins my dose
Work ahead, hours on the grind
A key in my hand, the tractor is mine
Muddy boots climb my *** to my seat
Prepared I am, for this summer heat
A seperate, full bottle in pocket, the engine is turned
Key to the right, another throat tickle burned
Through the gate on into field I find my day anew
View as of now, not quite so askew
The rows start straight, a farmers simple task
They soon grow crooked, I can't find my flask
Fuel runs low, a hassle to refill
Inebriated I find it easy to spill
Unwiser still, I light up a smoke
Finding my way, to field with a toke
Stoned and drunk I arrive at my field
I'll try it again, a little more even keeled
A drunken chuckle to nobody in sight
What a great poem, another forgotten to write
A vision of an old boss, his hatred of me
I laugh, again, to no person I see
He works all day at his nine to five
And I'm drunk on my tractor, happy alive

Copyright © Bic Gi-Sa | Year Posted 2017

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Look Spoken And Served

                                     Look, Spoken & Served

            I myself with Oneness, sorting through this mess and disaster, 
              With truthfulness, bringing faster, craftier, eternal factors,
                    Smells like hell departing with ignorant laughter, 
                             Through the storms of days after,
        Into the good news, from the one who knew darkness to outlast ya,
                          With a staunch persona, don’t compare,
                    To any man’s power, its conscious power shared,
                 The brains awake, causing good and evil to circulate,
            Like internal relations, neglect their sight in this earthquake,
                   Swords of wisdom to the hater, in another verse,
            Seeking wise knowledge through this hell for what it’s worth,
                                   Look, spoken and served,
                Clutch another word fighter putting steps to the word, 
                     These are the seeds, Skater styled proverbs,
              The unrighteous pay a ransom to get what they deserve,
                        Bang on about a lord, confined to a cell,
            Subatomic waves sell by wearing a pleasant array real well,
              The exterior can be the teacher, but distortion can spray,
                Like featured deep riddles badly retreat and reach ya,
                  Indestructible feature, I’m the narrator you select, 
           In company with the Upper Deck, I don’t neglect or disrespect,
              The heavens and earth combined, the ultimate divine line,
           The one percenters, promotions of evil grandeur in the airtime,
                     Bear in mind my rhymes, the tools of my trade,
                Aid my veins, insane in this game I came, this is a raid,
          Played out conscious praise in the day, when dues will all be paid.

                                                 Quincy Mac
date written: 4.12.2015

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Numbers don't lie

This is probably the first second time
On a third bases I have had a fourth thought
On my fifth victorious experience.
My victory proves that numbers don't lie.

Since the sixth sense 
Is not found on Seventh Heaven.
As we wish for an eighth day 
As part of the weekend
For we are doomed on Mondays
Like 9th/11
Deja vu is the tenth occurrence of victory

Utter wonderful words on Twelfth night
With no fear shake your spear on Friday the 13th
No Jason about it
Don't be sad about it, be gay.
No February 14th in my life
Hopefully in 2015
Then my life will be sweet sixteen
Or super seventeen
Then am legally 18 
Get married at nineteenth
Then its goodbye to the teens
But I am still stuck in the 20th century
Cos that's where the true meaning of life is left 
And on right my 21st Birthday I got the perfect key 
The key to open up my door to the 21st Century.
Its all in the numbers of life.

Copyright © Vuyolethu Sithatu | Year Posted 2016

Details | Smart Poem | Create an image from this poem.



A superb virtue—
Use for good, and not evil!
Smart is always good . . . 
           Man’s differentiation . . . 
To be nurtured at all times!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
May 15, 2015 (Tanka)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015