Best Sour Poems
Sour Fantasy…
I saw you there passing by.
Walking graceful, kind of shy.
Body gorgeous angel face,
Hair was so long, dim the sky.
Breasts like lemons marble legs,
Rosy lips with tender thigh.
Looked at me with eyes so blue,
Blue like ocean, my my my.
Words failed me to make a sound,
I called you with yearning sigh.
I was silent, you disgust,
You ignored me, I asked why.
You told me that I am mad,
All I have to do is, try.
I am old or maybe drunk,
I can at least dream to fly.
Let my fingers touch your skin,
Kiss your valleys mountain high.
I am in love with my love,
Even though, she thinks is, lie.
Love that hurts will never pass,
Cross my heart and hope to die.
Haloo, go to sleep, is late.
She is gone, just say goodbye.
8/12/18 Haloo
Note: This poem is a short form in "ghazal" 7 syllables. The rhyming in Ghazal ends with AA bA cA dA eA etc. It comes in two different forms with and without refrain. (Poetrysoup has a great explanation for this form of poetry).
We sat upon the rocks, my love and I
Atop Mount Cadillac, there by the sea
And as a doubloon sun slid down the sky
I asked her, with my ring, to marry me
Now it was not to her, complete surprise
For we had often talked of marriage, soon
Yet 'tween the Tanzanite to match her eyes
A limpid diamond now shone with the moon
And while I'd worked so hard to fill her needs
To tend our bloom of love and help it grow
That ring so cut my heart, (and still it bleeds)
For back it came with one sharp edge of "no"
Then, as I rose in soundless rage to leave ...
I gave our love and that damned ring ... a heave.
Ten syllables/line, counted at HowManySyllables.com
I penned a great poem for a contest
Glowing comments stated it should place high
When winners appeared I became distressed
I'd failed to place and released a sad sigh
I silently seethed, didn’t breathe a word,
I held back tears, eyes started to glisten
The placing by this judge was so absurd
I held my tongue as no one would listen
The sponsor had been blatantly unjust
All the winners ignored one simple rule
'Winning’ poems used words of such disgust
That judge proved to be a dim-witted fool
I’ve now completed my sour grapes sonnet
If I’m on Mark’s list, I’ll eat my bonnet!
Sour grapes Sonnet Contest
* didn't counted as 2 syllables not 1 as per how many syllables
Poem written for sour grapes contest theme and is not aimed at any particular sponsor
8/16/18
Lemons make you pucker
If you bite into their pulp.
Limes produce a juice to make you
Grimace as you gulp.
Other fruits are bitter
But there’s one with no escapes
And you can tell, by someone’s face,
Who’s eaten sour grapes.
Those who have partaken often
Find someone to blame.
Others have it in for them,
Is what they’ll try to claim.
Though their feelings might be hurt,
That’s something they won’t share;
But they’ll spew forth their anger
At the ones they deem unfair.
Maybe even sour grapes
We’d view as more benign
If those who bit them, chose instead
To make them into wine!
Lemonade drips on her cracked freckled lips,
I was studying the way that she speaks,
Her tone got rough, like she's had enough,
she was tired of amusing the freaks.
Her eyes were aged like a sage in deep study,
I was drowning in the wisdom of word,
the moment came, she was shouting my name,
and I knew my infatuation was absurd.
She moved like a model on a runway,
her hips were like heaven to watch.
I thought I could be hers someday,
or at least another bedpost notch.
I went inside where the mysteries hide,
caramel smooth I told her what i would do,
her hands were cold in a barbie doll mold
She says okay I have chosen it to be you.
I followed her home, we would be alone
she undressed me like a nurse in a war.
her silhouette was a sight I won't forget
but her moves I couldn't take anymore.
She moved like a model on a runway
her hips were like heaven to watch.
I thought I could be hers someday,
or a least another bedpost notch.
She lacked the sugar to make her sweet,
a bitter taste in my mouth when I eat
A sour girl from her head to her feet.
The strangest girl I ever did meet.
A sour girl, a sour girl,
a sour girl, a sour girl.....
There was a time when
pleasure came on the tip of a tongue.
When fear fled and the senses
did indulge.
Though visions dim and
sound distorts, dismays…
the tang of sweet and sour stay
abides within the aged form
in figureless grace.
Released are we aged crones and cronies
no longer the baited traps, the pollen
for the laden prongs
of progeny.
Astonished and amazed,
confused and turned
Some will leave a caring comment
and still get burned
I guess vile is vile,
always offended by something good
Some people don’t show their appreciation,
quite like they should
If you don’t want any comments,
then turn that little feature off
It’s rude to just ignore people
and let your ego scoff
You don’t need a blog
to stand and shake your fist
Just follow that trail
you’ll figure out right where you can kiss
I know the words you use to slander me.
Your slurs mar your own virtue, not my hue.
You slam to smear cloud fuzz on your heart’s plea
that once upon a joy, sought my “I do.”
We loved with our best try for many years,
We merged a child whose sweet melts both our hearts,
Plus, we shared life’s high feels and lowdown sears.
Our past lacks sense when you throw verbal darts.
Our kind son does not know that pride-wounds speak,
but well knows ache thus aimed by slams you throw.
In time, our child will view your mind as weak
and prone to fed truth’s seeds to lies you grow.
You spew sour grapes with each ill voiced broadcast.
Please, spread not tart to false mark our joined past.
... CayCay Jennings
August 18, 2018
howmanysyllables.com
A frequent favor is soon a debt:
It makes cupped hands close into fists.
Now that my hands are empty,
I see your breast heave with cold dark clouds—
A sure sign of the storm to come.
A pool of slime gathers in your eyes
That just yesterday were wide and glad
But now both narrow, each to a slit.
The fault, I know, is that a favor has gone missing,
So I the giver must hear the hissing.
Each time my favors to mist dissolve,
Your inner angels and demons to fists come.
Whom you cheer tells me focus:
Whether you dwell on scores or dwell on sores.
I see you cheer the angels
When it's my scores that you recall,
Scores that I gained whilst my favors flowed;
But it's demons that you cheer
When all you see are sores
That now hurt you where lost favors once soothed.
I feel your pain, so this much I’ll say:
In the hands of the clock is a mighty broom:
Of the plumes of angels' wings are its bristles made.
When time beats the past to dust,
It’s all soon wafted to heaven
As the clock each day fields its fabled broom.
Out of that dust, as at the beginning of time,
The Lord ever forms new worlds and fortunes
In which by his grace
Things now lost and missed may yet be reborn—
But only to those that stand with the angels.
First they’re sour then they’re sweet
Watermelon taste
They come in different colors
A chewy mouthful
I can eat them all
By myself
Mmm
_______________________
Inspired by Laura Mckenzie's
-Sweet Treat Contest-
‘Is love not bitter’? I repeat once again,
‘Think with your brain ’it can make you insane.
Rejection pierces my heart like a sharp sword,
Makes me move faster and slower than old ford.
Pain grips my heart with hand of stainless steel ,
Love poisoned my mind which makes me sick still.
Feel flared and foolish for being taken for ride,
My soul rides beside the dead bride with pride.
As my faith in love vanished into deep sea ,
I want to be free and sting like a bee.
Which makes some heads and legs not to comprehend,
This has brought “more joy, less excitement” my friend .
I’ve vowed not to fall in love…anymore,
but some still believe in it and its glamour.
Line/devices :
1.aphorism 2.pleonasm 3. Simile 4. Oxymoron 5. Personification 6.Metaphor 7.Allitration 8.Internal rhyme 9.inversion 10.pun 11.Synecdoche 12.Paradox 13.Ellipsis 14.Enjambment
8-17-2018
Contest: A Litany of poetic devices
Good
generous, sweet
giving, loving, caring
affection, devotion, greed, disdain
hurting,, hating, deceiving
thoughtless, abrupt
bad
Real Title: Words of a Sweet and Sour "Mom"
(the title heading won't take quotation marks
and other special characters, a thing I find most
irritating because a title can really lose its effect
without these things!)
“You MUST call me Mom”
not such a bad thing to ask -
unless demanded
“You’ve been a good wife”
this remark came with a cruise -
best gift of my life
My husband and kids -
all are in her will but me. . . .
“Andrea’s not blood"
By Andrea Dietrich
for Dr. Ram Mehta's Contest: "In-laws"
The teen’s face beamed with pride in his new car,
But Bestie exploded in jealous rage.
His reluctant congrats, a lame sidebar;
“I’d simply rather walk”— framed his outrage.
On Friday she failed the entrance exam,
Going to college, now holds no desire,
Higher education—a real flimflam,
she declared, all she’d felt now a fool’s pyre.
Excuses shirk blame—we can all decry,
Winning is fun, but losing kills yearning;
Life isn’t perfect—things do go awry,
But disparagement isn't good learning!
Be strong and just—suck it up when you lose.
Raisins are just sour grapes—with a bruise.
August 19, 2018
In the beginning,
The flowers blossom
In summers and dance always
In playful gesture at buzzing noises
Of bees that never get wary
Of playing the happy music
To cheer the hospitable host.
The flowers never worried
Of winter their natural spell,
For there will always be
Other summers to welcome the bees.
For all was perfect at inception,
An Eden we had and we gladly
Toil the pastures and later
Gather the plenty harvest.
Man later grew wiser
Then nature gets poorer,
Trees were cut down
To make man a shelter
To make the birds unsheltered,
And make the earth uncovered.
Man’s greedy wants of conquests,
Tussling in the quest for power.
We’ve made shells and cannons
To fall all that stands our way.
Our bombs are nuclear and deadly
To guide the home we live.
The bleeding earth keeps weeping
Of ruins we’ve brought on her.
Her unending raining tears,
Flooding our fields and barns.
For we’ve changed the course of nature,
And made a void in structure,
Then we shout a cry of tensions
Of ozone layer depletions.
Like pains of radioactivity,
After our wars have ended
At the end of nuclear activities.