Best Spacing Poems
-Dear, Mr & Mrs Poet-
Do you ever question where it comes from?
This poem's about you, sit down and get a load off
Tranquilize your pen, take heed to the ecstatic applause
The things in life we take for granting, in time get worse
From WHICH' our lives transverse, ascends a deep poetic curse
You write almost everything, rehearsing every living verse
Embezzling words, like Martha Stewart, ---NOT YOURS!
Withdrawing from your substance,
--yielding it to others, who aren't devoted lovers
Spacing your lines, ready for reader's digest,
Educating the mind, like Albert Einstein
You paint a different horizon for the color blind,
Drop a note, forecasting the news, that brings, Spring to mind
Your adrenaline, leaves people with a feel good faint.
At this level, Poet you're better than high speed Internet,
Anything that makes you feel this is the real deal,
Today, you write like there's no tomorrow, borrowing yesterday's clay
Inspiring ink, left to right, feeding the need to breed a poetic degree
Your dramatic dialogue, deserve 'The Peoples Choice award."
I love the sweet audio, when you lowercase every word
It's done so well, hell, let's never capitalize another word
Reaching a point across, when capitalizing every letter,
This is your world, take it, manipulate it, with the perfect stanza
Produce it like a poetic film, imagery, action, CUT it like Jerry Bruckheimer
One day Hollywood will incite a roll, looking for the best poetry soup rhymer
Your tears and affection, you pour on partial paper,
Showing every word you want to enunciate
A SHOULDER-- gone cold, drowning, forgetting the normal way
Writing about the pure religion that meets your light,
A beautiful flower under the moonlight
Hear the bells, Poe wrote about, adding sprinkles to the twinkle in your eyes,
A redolent scent not meant to be forgotten, from Eden's garden
Taking nature, by course, granting her a crown, before slamming us down
I will call her out --The evil and the fury of a goddess, a beast
This is my feast, I welcome you to my jungle, and the outer bounds of time.
If you ever question where it comes from?
Sit down and get a load off, listen---Where's the ecstatic applause?
I'm not afraid to say, -----I'm Proud to be A Poet Without A Cause
by;PD
I do it for fun
writers
p u r s u e
verbosity
~
readers
d e s i r e
brevity
[Brevette form]
The Brevette, created by Emily Romano consists of a subject (noun), verb, and object (noun), in this exact order. The verb should show an ongoing action. This is done by spacing out the letters in the verb. There are only three words in the poem, giving it the title Brevette.
Written 30 Oct 2020
Not long ago our destinies aligned
and of all the people it had to be you
your fragrance in the wind is left behind
as you walked by as i held the door for you
we wined and dined and hoped to outshine
the glittering stars of the night
you came at me in the midnight and held my hand
with no constrains you took me away
hand in hand amongst the sleepless souls
Side by side through the half empty streets of mainz
our brilliance playful act of love felt so alive
Sitting down spacing out to thoughts and memories of you
uncertainty overshadows every dream of you
piggyback rides and lingering goodbyes
of the same mind tonight i hope we could be two
mesmerised by the sparks between our eyes
passionately yielding to this sensation you and i shared
with fastened lips and no words to spare
the essence of love was in the air in a surreal like dream
time stood still for you and me
Sitting down spacing out to thoughts and memories of you
uncertainty overshadows every dream of you
an unseen dramatic contraction
of what seemed to be a lasting attraction
Unanswerable questions are left in wander
Unquestionable answers are left to ponder
Words of love and poesy used to quickened you
bittersweet traces is all that I now leave you
Silence is all that remained that only a wonder can break
To enlighten your heart and brighten your smile like a summers day is my aim
I will thank you
For your voice.
It adds a weight to the hem of the veil
That will press down
The curtain of secrecy.
Your words, your octave, your spacing
Will appear before my closed lids,
As an artist painting a self portrait;
Of a man I have never seen
Or touched or tasted.
Each word, each stroke,
Each layer, each contradiction,
Will transform the
Ghosts of imagination
And define your reality.
I pray for this one word:Hello.
"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go . . . )"
By_ E.E. Cummings(1894-1962)
I love the nonconformist approach of E.E. Cummings
his style has such freedom
the intentional grammar mistakes ... delightful
his structure inspiring
I love the lack of capitalization and punctuation
his made up silly words
and erratic spacing and scrunched up words
he threw away rules
I love how E.E. could write silly and also romantic
he always wanted to write
his early notebooks includes prayers of inspiration
E. E. I do that too
I love many of the same things that E.E. loved
like art, and Paris, France
he experienced a lot of heartbreak and grief
E.E. I have too
I love how he never gave up on finding true love
and I am happy he found it
he wrote every single day ... I do too
wish I met him
I love how he had the courage to self publish his work
his poetry, plays and books
this is a poet that I have admired very much
E.E. Cummings ...
"-in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms ... "
_______________________
January 15, 2023
Poetry/Free Verse/EE, I Love You
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1517-941-15
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beloved Poets
sponsor, Regina McIntosh, Judged 01/19/2023
Second Place
Submitted to the Standard, Your Choice Again
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 02/21/2023
First Place
words give a lively dance
not staying on the lines of the paper
or in left to right order
or even down the page order
letters are flinging onto the page in every direction
I just saw a crazed T jump onto a Z's back
C stuck out her tongue and two ran off to tattle
the verbs decide to outdazzle the adjectives
racing, chasing, facing, macing, spacing,
These wild wonderful words are excited and joyful
I happily give up the reins
leaning back in my chair
allowing yet another poem to write herself
as every good poem does
You fought as bravely as the others.
When you were wounded, yes you bled.
You loved each other as if brothers
And those who died were truly dead.
It was a quite unpopular war.
Our country's leaders were to blame.
It should not have been you soldiers who
Came home to silence, even shame.
Only your families welcomed you,
You lucky ones who came back home.
Your jobs were gone, your futures too.
Ill health and muddled minds for some.
When I meet you, Viet Nam Veteran,
There are some words I need to say.
I'd like to walk up to you, shake your hand
And welcome you the rightful way.
Thank you. (the spacing goes wild on me. I can't correct it.)
8/23/14
A newborn's but a fertile field most parents would propose
to plant with seeds of servitude lined up in perfect rows.
Tilled with proper spacing and of weeds there is no trace,
but as for me I'd sooner see a field of Queen Anne's Lace.
People will move random rocks; make rows with every tree
finding satisfaction in their want of symmetry.
But facing one direction just neglects a lot of space;
as for me I'd sooner see a field of Queen Anne's Lace.
Scattered willie-nither by a warm and kindly breeze,
seeds should put down random roots where ever they may please.
For neighbors, Blue Stem Prairie Grass or maybe Golden Rod,
A stately Black Eyed Susan or fluffy Milk Weed pod.
I find no pressing reason all need serve the human race,
as for me I'd sooner be a field of Queen Anne's Lace.
Abdullah was a student in my school.
He wanted to learn English very well.
The school had home stay programs. At that time,
I sometimes took in students. I’d had two
before him, and they had not worked out great.
Abdullah, though, was helpful and polite.
I’m sure, like other Muslims at the school,
he practiced his religion but was not
a zealot! He would smoke outside and not
complain about my rules. He fit right in!
How pleasant this young man’s demeanor was!
Alone in this big country, he had set
a goal to get into a college soon.
Though only Level One at English school,
his comprehension of the language grew!
I still recall the sweet way he would ask
to help me wash the dishes or to cook.
I showed him how to make a pizza dough.
We baked some chocolate cookies once and were
like old friends in the kitchen as we laughed!
But mostly I recall the drives to school
and chatting with Abdullah, passing time.
I wish I had him on my Facebook page.
No matter where he ended up, I know
he’s doing well and brightening more lives.
July 3, 2017
(Thanks to my friend James Horn who helped me with problems I had spacing on a different computer)
Used to be a happy go around…later shrouded in frowns…?
For many a birth places…what are the shades of their faces…?
A log of many a cases…where are the words of their paces…
Memories of a ghetto…not in Soweto…
But it is located in Jamaica…some call it ‘Jah Mek Yah’…
Right there in Kingston…where the 70’s ‘kill some’…
With smears of being all poor…what is there to adore…?
Is there any glowing in their growing…or is it a constant lowing that is flowing…?
Incense of some violence…at times very intense…
Why question from whence…the condition of your fence…
Some work for minimum wage…till their children comes of age…
Some may try a ‘hustle’…amid times of a real tussle…
A school is the real tool…not to be classified a fool…
How many took the opportunity…was it there in its entirety…?
Expectations are low…within the underlying glow…
If you noted some highs…many people might accuse you of lies…
But what about some doctors…what are the determinations of their characters…?
What says of the lawyers…any semblance to Tom Sawyers…?
The list of engineers…worthy of professional scares…?
What of other professionals…would you question their rationales…?
What do you expect…outcasts in select…?
To put it in context…a myriad of rejects…?
Like some ‘Shotters’…what are their real matters…?
The diary of their jotters…to splatters…the brain of ‘ratters’…?
What of the common people…any conclusions from their STEEPLE…?
A ‘transfer’ will be good for him; or her survival…are there many a rivals...?
Through Western Union…is this the symbolic source of a reunion…?
Or through Money Gram…is it the lamb within a damn…?
Within the spacing of the land…are there any sightings of bland…?
Good gods of Moses…will their limitations exposes…?
Can they escape the brand…is there any magic in their wand…?
Within the society…what are the flavours of our notoriety…?
You are not from ‘uptown’…will I make you a frown…?
What’s the expectation of your game…any flame; or is it plain lame…?
Like ‘boys in the hood’…can you ever come good…?
Questions to a faction…what’s the typical reaction…?
Will you move beyond the seeming limits of your scope…?
Or will you condemn yourself to the notion of no hope…?
Jones Town…it once was my playground…
babies
b o l s t e r
biographies
7-13-2021
In Just A Few Words 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
The Brevette, created by Emily Romano consists of a subject (noun), verb, and object (noun), in this exact order. The verb should show an ongoing action. This is done by spacing out the letters in the verb. There are only three words in the poem.
For this contest all 3 words must start with the same letter.
. 3 words only
Within cries decreed with shadows mourning
Mortal sin translucent through eyes scorning
Brewing storms amidst silent atramental abyss
Accruing waves breathed loves lingering kiss
Minds melting transfixed thru ravaging ruins
Blinds building walls amongst cerebral fluids
Demonic seeds with remorseful ruling hands
Chronic dementia within bloodstained sands
Temptations afloat amidst sinking verbal voids
Frustrations colliding of inner spacing asteroids
Ignorance blissful with hemispheres declining
Innocence destroying within minds confining
Illusions manifesting with tribal ritual intentions
Extrusions of thoughts entwined with abstentions
Tumultuous seas of marauding cores deepening
Tempestuous squalls landing ashore secreting.
...a BDHR-[backward double helix reversible]
Mourning shadows with decreed cries within
Scorning eyes through translucent mortal sin
Abyss atramental silent amidst storms brewing
Kiss lingering loves breathed waves accruing
Ruins ravaging thru transfixed melting minds
Fluids cerebral amongst walls building blinds
Hands ruling remorseful with seeds demonic
Sands stained blood within dementia chronic
Voids verbal sinking amidst afloat temptations
Asteroids spacing inner of colliding frustrations
Declining hemispheres with blissful ignorance
Confining minds within destroying innocence
Intentions ritual tribal with manifesting illusions
Abstentions with entwined thoughts of extrusions
Deepening cores marauding of seas tumultuous
Secreting ashore landing squalls tempestuous.
Oct.09.2018
Soap Opera Titles Poetry..."The Secret Storm"
Sponsored by: Sian St. John
N/A for contest
Time of the times
Tiling for the time, building on the line
Edifying road, path intersection of your life
Minimizing for the fight, pacifying on the ground
Exploring rope, mild intervention in the sound
Time of the time, learning from your past
Time of the future, presenting your lust
Time of the moment, coloring your trust
Time of the unknown, understanding your vice
Playing on the path, regulating to the sight
Safe game, temple flesh, collecting your breath
Mockery of the blessing, bush burning cracking
Slaughters of the lamb, bomb-exploding facing
Time of the time, gaming with the mice
Time of the future, spacing for the lost
Time of the moment, talking of the wise
Time of the unknown, watering from the rock
Timing of the till, designing through the gap
Speaking on the hope, judging from the place
Walking all day long, thinking on the step
Dreaming on the floor, meditating on the grace
Writing for the soul, singing to the land
Time of the time, on the melody of your life
Time of the future, on the soliloquy of your mind
Time of the moment, on the symphony of your art
Time of the unknown, on the cacophony of your march
isaac-
Watching the Debaters
Addendum 2 – The Varsity
By Franklin Price
8/7/2015
This round a media fiasco
For me to write in verse
Presentation of the top ten
Was much different than the first
As always the moderators
Slanted the show their way
Immediately quite evident
That they had come to play
The stating of the questions
And to whom they were addressed
A water boarding process
But only few confessed
Candidates mostly held their own
Whether liking it or not
I think they showed us who they were
And what it is they've got
If they got together
Yes that's all the seventeen
Without the help of media
To see which way to lean
And honestly discussed
What this country really needs
Without all of the TV talk
And the hyber spacing feeds
Would find it's not about them
Mirrored fairest in the land
It's about this country's people
The real players in the band
So this is my opinion
There was not a victor's fist to pump
Only one who looked quite foolish
And that was Mister Trump
We look up at the sky at night
There is so much to see
Planets, stars, and meteors
Then, past vision, what can be
The further back the light comes from
See deeper in the past
Worlds like ours have come and gone
Unlikely that they last
Our Earth is just a blink in time
Say just a speck of dust
Revolving with its molten core
We live here on the crust
The comets cruise our system
Held here by our sun
Some orbits go so far in space
We may not see that one
Our planets may be hot or cold
Gas or solid rock
It makes no difference in the end
As in their orbits lock
Mars there for the God of war
Venus there for love
Mercury for heat and speed
They wander up above
They take a spacing from the sun
Mercury, Venus, Earth
Mars, Jupiter and Saturn
All have different orbit girth
Uranus there, and Neptune
And with far too many jeers
Tiny Pluto scorches round
In just two fifty years
The constellations guide us
As we travel in the night
Guided to our destination
As an early caveman might
The supernova of the stars
When their life is done
Collapsing to a small white dwarf
Or huge red giant one
And so when we are dead and gone
Earth swallowed by the sun
Will those that follow wonder
If they follow anyone