Best Spellings Poems
SPELLING TEST (there are over 30 words contained within this poem that are often
misspelt by the common man)
We all do on occasion temporarily misspell.
Amateur or connoisseur of language,who can tell?
Conscientiously piece together,peculiar bits of rhyme.
Manoeuvre letters gorgeously for others to refine.
Discipline and experience,all apparent to you and me.
Pronunciation not enough to spell linguistically.
Skilful realignment of the letters needs addressed.
Paralytic implications quintessentially expressed.
A ricochet of rhythm,sabotaged in a queue of verse.
Cacophony of tone with their spellings unrehearsed.
Is your spelling kamikaze,a haemorrhaging of ink.
A karaoke nightmare,communication on the brink.
So literary geniuses,i am all apologetic.
If my utterance is rabbled and my spelling is pathetic.
You see,many words i utilize in this poem i create.
Have been misspelt for centuries,the most common is
separate
Categories:
spellings, educationwords,
Form:
Rhyme
He leaves his silent signature on every piece of art
Not seeking worldly profit or acclaim,
Yet touches of perfection often set his work apart
And witness to his honourable name.
He moves his painter’s palette from the east unto the west
From north to south he coats the sweeping land.
His artistry is limitless and stunningly expressed
With every brushstroke marvellously planned.
Assorted textures bring to life the panoramic scenes
Resplendent in their richly varied hues,
From pastel pink to persimmon and dazzling emerald greens
Warm russet browns and iridescent blues.
A masterpiece can sometimes be neglected it is true
And counterfeits delude us at first sight,
So let us keep this perfect canvas in our field of view
And in the artist's workmanship delight.
06/10/18
(British spellings)
N/A :‘The paint mover poetry contest’ : Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Categories:
spellings, appreciation, art, beauty, color,
Form:
Rhyme
Here we are in 1650, which is ten minutes to five
swing the wheel to the West, which is left,
put your sun cream away, man the mizzen and the stays
as we set off for some murder and some theft.
You'll find us as your hosts on the sunny Barbary Coast
and from there we venture forth to ply our trade
we've been out leaving them for dead from the Atlantic to the Med
before we skittle off back home our fortunes made
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
As I previously stated we all get inebriated
from our copious imbibing of the grog
our excuse is there's no Cola in the bars of Hispaniola
which is why we need the hair of the dog
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Got a woman in Bermuda and another in Tortuga
and they give me lots of lovin' for some coins
and although they're very foxy they're just both a pair of doxies
which I'm sure explains the rash around me groin
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Now we're really no buffoons when it comes down to doubloons
and our treasure chests are burstin' at the seams
then old Blackbeard started spouting about doing our accounting
so I said (before I shot him) 'in your dreams'
(ye chorus)
As we skirmish the Atlantic I was starting to get frantic
since the one thing on my voyage I've always feared
is the men who've not been coming for a while across some women
have all started wearing lipstick, which is weird
(arr, the chorus again)
Well it's reached that point me hearties where we anchor down and party
so me shipmates here on board I'd like to thank
though the mix of food and beer has now given me diarrhea
which is why I've made our cook just walk the plank
(for thee last time, chorus, arrrr)
September 17th 2015, 'A pirate's life for me' contest, sponsor Kelly Deschler
(Author's note- there are several spellings of diarrhea, but it doesn't matter, they all have 'arr' in 'em, me hearties)
Categories:
spellings, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
My uncle's polka dot bow-tie is markedly symbolic,
For he has been, throughout his life, a fervent spotaholic.
His patient wife, dear Dottie, with whom he is quite besotted
Will only buy him underpants if suitably bespotted!
Punctilious with spellings, it will come as no surprise,
That he delights to cross the T's and gaily dots the I's.
And even as a lad when bad concussion laid him low,
To see those spots before his eyes had minimised the blow!
So when he goes out walking with his pet dalmation,Spot
His coat aburst with polka dots, he doesn't care a jot!
I doubt he'll ever mend his ways for everybody knows
'A leopard cannot change his spots' - or so the saying goes!
18/01/19
'Polka dot poetry contest' : Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
spellings, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
A freak of literature
Designed by those mad poets
But escaped the lab:
the English classroom,
Its me G the hybrid word:
With added punctuation and
bold character so im strong-
Arial be my font family but I paced away,
So I ain't close to them
So sorry paragraphs and stanzas!
I guess the writer knows my verses.
A lonely word, a sentence out cast:
Low self esteem and narrow stem
Serifs sticking out so im teased!
Roaming the lines, in the bottom line
Seeing meaningless words and incorrect spellings;
Paragraphs hanging in the margins ,
Looking out for erasers and ink removers
No word dreams of spending their literature:
Stroked out; erased and torn out;
Threw in a garbage can: that hell!
O please writers answer us!
We just want to be read in harmony,
And spelled correctly.
We words know:
That these are the last Summarized times
so the poem might end
But let me finish up,
The writers know the poetry
The whole story, they created us!
Words of this Chapter
The freak of literature,
How do I know? it's the writer
The prophecy of the chosen word:
The son of poets and the proper nouns
So they all capital letters,
Yeah! They coming for yeah!
The errors, words that have been erased
The undead, the unreadable
Damn the legible,
Think they better than us!
Cause they accepted by the writers,
Writing and prophesizing sentences
Those verses forming stories,
It's war: words stroked
Cold inked so they erased,
Torn out papers!
This is deeper than writing!
We all words destined to be read
So some are reasoning,
Is this a verse or a poem?
Many words are beginning-
to question their literature,
Begging writers to write evenly,
No orphans and widows:
We just want to be spaced out,
Adjustments and justified
In lined sentences-so we spread out
Properly uniting calling paragraphs;
Growing in numbers to stanzas,
So all the readers read us as one story.
Categories:
spellings, deep, image, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Verse
My love do you remember when we met?
At the Rubandikarya corner near the gigantic cypress tree,
An old sport known for romance,
Where lovers used to meet evening hours?
And they would do their romantic chanting?
That was the epitome of our dates.
My Love do you remember the letters we used to send each other?
The letters we could scribble on dirty papers,
Because our parents complained of how books were expensive,
Though the spellings used to confuse our thoughts,
But our hearts would understand the lines and smile,
Then the funny images of us we would draw at the end of the letter,
Though they looked funny but symbolized our true love.
My Love do you remember the crazy games we used to play?
Hide and seek, kalongolongo, baba na mama etc.
They made us look stronger in our love than today,
They made us smile even when tears were forcing their way into our love,
They made us see love not as the world sees it today,
They made us be called love drunkards.
My Love, that love, where has it gone?
That love that every one used to gossip about,
That love that made us be called idiots,
That love that made us nicknamed Romeo and Juliet,
That love that wiped off our tears when pain sprouted,
That love that made even dogs be jealous of us,
It’s that love that I need.
My Love I need the love we had before evolution,
The love that always overlooked the boundaries,
The love that never hid behind shame of nature,
Love that never used to shout in public,
But would whisper into our ears soft music,
That glued our hearts together.
That love that carried us within the harsh whispers of the wind,
Moved us through the claws of the storm,
Shielded us from the terror of darkness,
Sheltered us from the tears of the sky,
Gave us a shade when the sun scorched,
That love my Love, is all I need.
My Love, that love they call old school love,
Is the love that will prosper us,
It’s the love that will crown us amongst mighty Kings,
It’s the Love that will raise us above the turmoil of the world,
Pass us through the devils traps,
And set us on our predestined throne of Eternal Joy.
Old School Love!
Categories:
spellings, love,
Form:
Romanticism
In a moment there was time a child could grasp corporeal and gracious
It stopped and I carefully gave non notice to educasees
that paused me to bleed blend assinine inaccurate aforementioneds
to preprocure a mule measured primrose pathos of interposes to analyze the ex ever jutaposes of irrevelant psuedo spawn spellings intrinsic of piss patterns nego
nero nitro nuego of lunar literant intent grating gravity gunite givings presupposing cannon quantites quotient of add, substract, multiply, divide, die in my seat work consistent of soulservitude a prisoner of seatzenda, a great book read poised to a
selling of elementary sealed solvent sedintary solices sleeveless saints of sanitary sectors sanctioning soulful sensibilities senitent of sailable sanities. Boys will be boys, ADD,ADHD a cool cover up for 80 % legis lay teachers to drugafy, deamplify, villify, castrate, humilitate, propogate the post predisposition of that which is normalcy to a degree of zombie cumulo butt compliance for the powers at be be-gone, biploar bulimec, blandering, blistering, bloging, bifurcating blog bog billows, stress all that is pharmacorelative with respect to the adultoparentive coaxial moneyisms that speaks to a bygone exoera of residio responsibile valiumviscous banailty. Cool calm creepy excel expenditures procede pre positive parental protocals procreating patterened presentials to predictive humo end hiatial hemorroids. In the end we prosperspire in pain pile potentials. Predictable predicates promise postmortem primal preordinates. Enjoy eating educational entrails!
Categories:
spellings, character, children, conflict, corruption,
Form:
Free verse
I sit, chewing on my pen tip,
Trying to look as if I am deep in serious thoughts,
Tapping my foot with an air of restless efficiency,
Fussing over my spellings and ink blots.
I glance at the somber calculator,
It seems to glare at me in quiet reprimand.
I make myself type in a few numbers and symbols,
And the answer comes up sooner than I demand.
The numbers, the symbols, the words of wisdom,
Swirl around me in incoherent randomness,
As I sit, and ponder, trying to hold my senses in my slippery grasp,
The immaculate rungs of logical thought swiftly become meaningless.
So I give up, or rather, give in
To escape to that secret land of foolish fantasies,
Which had been tempting the edge of my consciousness for so long,
Causing my homework to be a series of blunders and idiocies.
I dream of happy endings, of forget-me-nots;
Of stormy emotions, the sweet pain that accompanies love,
The sparks that fly between you and I, the carelessly concealed attraction
Of star-crossed lovers, the suns, the moons, the heavens above.
I dream of rain, and sensuous nights,
Of raptures, and laughter, and mischievous delights.
I carve out a perfect picture in my mind, with my imagination as the frame,
I have gone too deep-long forgotten that this is just a game.
The sound of my own joyful laughter brings me crashing down to earth,
The tick of the clock, the sweat on my brow,
And other subtle reminders of reality registers on my fuzzy mind;
I sigh, and go back to doing my homework for tomorrow.
Categories:
spellings, fantasy, imagination, loveme, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Colourblind Slim
Colourblind Slim was orn'ry an' mean
Today he said the stop lite was green
Here lies Colourblind Slim
©4/01/2012
Form:Epitaph
*spellings are intentional for dialect
For Broken Wings contest: Form E
Categories:
spellings, death, funny,
Form:
Epitaph
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.
Categories:
spellings, smart, words,
Form:
Please read it how you see it.lol.
Spellings not mi 4 tee tude,
I dunt no rite from rong.
I only borud that mistas car,
An a fortneet dint seem 2 long.
The coppas cum an tuck me,
Thay put me in a sell.
I put sum fewel in his car,
So y did he av to tell.
Thay tuk me to see the mista gudg,
That man with funny hare.
He sed that I am goin away,
Al av to tek anotha car
Or how will I get ther.
I dint no wat he ment,
He wos lokkin me away,
I just cum to re a lize
That crime just dusnt pay.
23/9/2021
Categories:
spellings, fun, funny, humor, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
People with all the bad things happening
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come
Again nuclear warnings, global warming
North Korea here to free us
Alktha accusations apolitical, What
And is President Trump imitating Nixon
What?
People with all the bad things happening
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come
Radon, Rayon Cong What
These spellings are off, huh!
What about a dump truck, huh!
Clouded minds altimeters
God is the solution, there is no substitution
People with all the bad things happening
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come
Police shootings, black on black crimes
Reverences 1970's bro do ya have a dime
None of this reterick makes any cents
Why must least that have pay the most to the government
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come
Like mindedness can't tell the differents
Between Christians or sinners
New tax laws a break for the wealthy
And the middle class Oh,
Only if you make more than ninety thousand dollars
And what is the poverty level eighteen thousand
Don't know?
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come
What you just don't understand
You either lie, steal or cheat the system
Everything you own you just borrow, before you get assistants
I worship God no longer do I worship religion
For only God has the perfect vision
I worship God no longer do I worship religion
Doom is on its way
With all the people on the run
Is heaven gonna come for if you believe it or not
Jesus is heaven and He's gonna come
12/03/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
spellings, adventure, allegory, anxiety, community,
Form:
Lyric
English prides itself on being a well-spring of today’s language
like a magpie that freely picks up foreign words elsewhere
with an attempt to incorporate them into its richness of vocabulary;
a great endeavor that makes sense to be a global lexicon these days.
It’s a continuing effort that knows no barrier with other nations,
to the world of cultures with an attitude of openness and expansion;
widens one’s horizon and enables one to get a habit of insertion,
recognized as an inspiration that becomes a treasure trove of information.
Interesting it may be to find one’s word from a particular culture
that insertion in the dictionary which is a constant guide to everyone;
a close study, a reference to certain thoughts, backgrounds, and origins,
these words provide their meanings and usages in sentence constructions.
Yet their phonetic spellings are great indications to pronounce them well
according to history or origin that supply right definitions and implications,
their etymological meanings, derivations or other shades of meanings;
in their contextual variations or figurative implications thus far.
As they possess the power of meanings or as an identity of every word,
their roles make substance and clarity to what is necessary to understand;
they make a difference; they serve like guardian angels in every way,
whose central tenet and mission explore guidance and comprehension.
Webster’s, Oxford, McQuarie or Thesaurus as dictionaries used these days,
with idiomatic expressions provided in different contexts and origins;
however, profound or different as applied in many human situations,
they convey wisdom; so rich that many times they’re used in today’s parlance.
Words, words, words, as Hamlet famously moaned when Polonius asked him;
what he reads and wrestles with words and meanings generate an answer,
it’s the same thing with one’s attitude to consult or refer to a lexicon,
a dictionary, a thesaurus, or any similar print that provides meanings –
words that draw the link between history and experiences of humanity.
Categories:
spellings, dedication, faith, on writing
Form:
Concrete
In a sleepy old hamlet in Northeastern Maine
on old Knob Hill Road, there is a house,
a very old house,Victorian I think with
with what looks like old bell towers on either end
But they aren't really bell towers at all, I guess
you could say they look like spooky old watch
towers, or if your imagination were to run away
old dungeon towers, none the less spooky.
It's been said that strange things have happened
in that old house over many years, many, many years
Sightings of ghosts and apparitions, paranormal things
that of owners past perhaps, screams in the night
There are those who say, they saw lights on
over those many years, but really that would mean man made
There has been no electricity there in two decades
or has it? No one can really say for sure, alive that is!
All these sightings have only been seen from the front gate
and some from the back gate as well, no-one has ever entered
there has been no-one alive past the front gates in a long time
Not in the house on old Knob Hill Road.
So, when I arrived in that sleepy little hamlet my first
stop was the Police station, well they call it constables office
I didn't know any of those still existed anymore, I guess it
shows that old practices still do exist, I guess!
I wanted permission to enter that old house, on Old Knob Hill Road
I was really looking for the owner and figured this was a start
what I was met with was bewilderment and laughter
all of which was at my expense, They all thought I was nuts I guess
I met up with Constable Danforth, Chief Constable, actually the only
one. He said in his quaint New England accent, Thar hasn't been a
soul on that property in nearly eighty yaars now. The town owns the
property and the house, we wanted to tear it down, but couldn't.
I asked why of course, Well no-one will go near the old place
say it's haunted and evil, things like that. Well I said that is
exactly what I am here to find out, that's what I do.
Search for hauntings and evil places to prove reality or fiction.
Please don't mind the mis-spellings they are for accent purposes only, such as
yaars is actually years...Maine style..Continued in Pt. 2
Categories:
spellings, adventure, fantasy, imaginationhouse, old,
Form:
Narrative
He and she wear similar names
Altered spellings
Brown sugar and black salt
Are meant to serve different purpose.
An offensive outfit
Hard earned money worth a semen
Mucus and milk must be siblings
Soul & tarot card reading is an unrecognised hobby.
Nine balls are snooked on an English table
The cue lies on her court.
Categories:
spellings, anti bullying, dark, drug,
Form:
Political Verse