Best Title Poems
help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leaning against the ropes, eyes swollen half closed
Its been a long fight....
Blood dripping from a dislocated jaw
Body beaten and bruised; taking a few more blows
Crowd screaming; colourful figures; cloudy sight?!
Knocked down a few times but, not counted out yet
Not yet; still standing to catch a second wind.... ~
My foe is fierce and relentless, the best in the world
This worlds, undisputed heavyweight champ
At least over most of Humanity; never lost a fight to the faithless!?
Been the prince of his ring for thousands of years....
Almost had them carry me out; flat upon my back, in the early rounds
Until the undefeated “One,” showed up and volunteered to become
“My Corner ^Man.” ~
Been doing somewhat fair since yet, still, a tad bit fuzzy in my head....
Absorbing blows amid a fight like this but, I Am, still standing
And I get my punches in also; sometimes, I even win a round or two?!
My corner Man said; “The Real Champ.” ~
"Just wait for the right time, he'll open up, and when he does
Then, put him on his back; hit him with a left and a quick right
Another left another right and then, use your cut....
....I promise you, I shall gladly count him out, for you ~
Just hang on, we've got him, right, where, we want him!?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“The Title ^Fight”....
This is my humble tribute to our dear Soup member Constance La France, using some of her poem titles. This is, again, inspired by the "Title Wave" contest that was sponsored by our Soup member Richard Lamoureux last year. Thank you Richard Lamoureux for the inspiration and thank you dear Constance for the wonderful titles in pages and pages of poems you had contributed to Soup and I enjoyed writing this. I wish that I/we find time to read more of the beautiful inspiring poems of Constance, that she has contributed to Soup. (Below, the titles I have used for this tribute for Constance are in quotes. I have not capitalized the words within the titles as they were.)
"In my dreamy spring garden",
I often hear the "melody of dawn".
"The birds call me" as they know
how much I revel in listening to their songs.
When I close my eyes, at times, I hear
"the fluttering feather" of birds and I feel
they wish to chit-chat with me.
"Wandering in nature" in my dreamy garden
"where memories linger"
I see the "sunrise, gold and yellow":
a "breathtaking" view indeed.
"In meadows of sun", I see
a beautiful "hummingbird"
rapidly "fluttering" his translucent wings
"oh! sweet hummer".
As "the beauty of birds" enthrall me,
in a sweet corner of a tree branch,
two "birds in love" were preening each other
"oh! happy spring".
The fine "tapestry of nature"
as seen in my enchanting garden
invites all kinds of birds
with bright colourful "feathers".
My garden is a safe haven for birds
"where the bluebirds sing".
My soul is soothed by the sweet song of "nightingale".
"A bird of green is singing",
Aw! what a melody -
"Oh, the echo of birds chirping" and
the warble of "the bird vireo"
bring harmony here to stay:
"A gang of sparrows"
are seen "flying in the sky"
"oh! how heavenly"
now, "I would like to fly away", along with them!
Date: 01/17/2022
In the middle of my own small world I stand,
Both feet planted firmly on the land.
Gold is the sun in the sky.
Oh, that I could fly!
Then you see -
I
Would be free!
Earth-bound, though, I sigh.
I'll remain so till I die.
Knowing that out there is something grand,
In the middle of my own small world I stand.
Written 2/5/15
Now for Joseph May's 'Andaree - 11 Lines' Poetry Contest
What "do you see"
"What are you looking for"
"Why"
Why "do you do what you want"
You know it causes Me pain
You could be "my everything"
"Are you determined" to go it alone
"Sure" you can rely on your own wisdom
"Each" "moot" point " you" "test"
"What you want you get"
"Just know" it will never satisfy
"Ready or not" the end will come
You have a "see through heart"
Lacking the "gift of eternity"
"See where you are going"
"To you" I say, do not grasp the "final straw"
"Ready or not" "it is you"
"Oh yes" it is your choice
You can "rest in me"
"If you want it you shall have it"
"Your Treasure" is safe in my hands
"Whatever touches you" will never harm you
"You are an essay" I wish to complete
"Wisdom" can be your companion
"I live" beyond simple imaginations
"See with my eyes"
"I will guide you"
"Oh beautiful one"
"Beautiful you"
I am waiting "for you"
"Peace" is but a "breath" away
"Ask and you will receive"
"Love, Lord"
All the words in Quotes are titles from Toquyen Harrell's poems.
She remembers the shimmer
of one Sunday morning
The sun had grown dimmer
on the overcast seas
The color of yellow,
spread long amber fingers
And the sycamore trees
cast strange somber shadows.
There was a threat in the sky
and the faint sound of thunder
Then a flash in the hills, in the blink of an eye,
Clouds gathered so quickly on the hillside, nearby
They rudely unlatched all the floodgates within
When a minute had passed light shined once again
and a radiant sun spread like gold end to end
At the old oak table, she sat in the kitchen
Staring at paper, with a pen in her hand
Searching for muse and the words for a poem,
seeking the magic, to paint with a pen
Hoping for gold in the late summer's bend
While hearing the tapping of rain and the plunder
And as quickly as storms, come out of nowhere,
a floodgate of verses resounded like the thunder
and flashes of lightning struck lines here and there.
Pouring on paper, like rivulets on windows
a floodgate unleashed, were the words in a row
Painting a river, a poem she could own
and words that would capture the late summer storm
___________________________________________________________
Contest: "Titles" Required using titles of our first 5 poems.
9/17/15
(Titles of my first five poems:)
The Old Oak Table
Dimmer
Yellow
Sunday Morning
Unlatched
Entered again: 'Second Chance for the Unloved Poem' Contest
Sponsor: Jesse Rowe
My mind is always running like an overflowing faucet
Like a never ending bouncing ball that someone took and tossed it
Paid for with attention that I forgot how much it costed
As my mind will sometimes lose itself and I forget just where I lost it
A mind is that a beautiful place yet it can also be very scary
As those with sight to read the mind all readers be wary
Like the venom of a beautiful plant flaunting poison berries
Poison thoughts can rot the mind and the perspective that it carries
What would it be like to explore another mind
Is it like a whimsical circus from thoughts of different kinds
Or would it be a calming stream to help leave troubles behind
Perhaps reality is an illusion conjured from the thoughts we find
As my mind sits in mental slumber
I sit in a corner and sometimes wonder
How I allowed myself to be pulled under
By my own mental blunders
Still thoughts run like a marathon with no intent of stopping
Time would steal a moment's notice while seconds continue dropping
As time sheds into the past the present continues cropping
For time is neither round nor linear but explodes the moment popping
Times combustion blinds the mind stealing that which it most wants
Memories reflecting the past with the regret that serves to haunt
The present steals the frown from the past wearing a smile that taunts
Reminding thoughts that the confidence it bears comes from the pain it flaunts
In the past, when the present seemed to be facing a downward slope
As if the foot of reality lost its traction slipping on water and soap
When falling to an inverted sky reality extends a rope
Some may call the extension luck while others call it hope
Or maybe faith, hope and luck stem from the same fibers of thought
Like time catching us in the moment thinking it is time we have caught
Reminding us of something we don't know but ought
Control what you can control for time we can not
The sponsor chose words I’ve never heard of before
So if I don’t win the contest I’ll declare he’s a bore
It’s axiomatic that I’ve an altruistic attitude
But I don’t give a fig if folks think that I’m rude!
I’ll sign a declaration of my asseveration
Then bare my teeth like an angry Alsatian!
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words
Is this word some kind of cynical joke aimed at dim witted nerds!
REQUIRED WORDS axiomatic, altruistic, asseveration
Tongue firmly in cheek poem for contest
Triple A Challenge
Sponsored by Robert Haigh
4/15/18
My time on Earth has reached its end.
I’ll always be your poetry friend.
I’ve enjoyed the time we had to share.
Thank you all, I’m glad you care.
My pain is gone, I’m now at rest.
Keep on writing and give your best.
Don’t be sad now that I’m gone.
Just use your words and carry on.
Title
By
Dipankar Chakraborty
Like the sparks of the crystal
water droplet
Which ignite the mighty world
from the chest of the small
leaflets,
The diamond eyes of the mere
child aim the arrow of love,
To tied us in the knot of
sovereignty being bestowed in
love.
That mere child don’t know the
darkness of this earth,
Its tranquil cry makes them to
talk mirth.
But the parents of the spouse
seal a mark on its head,
The title, which isolates one
from other, they accept it with
glad.
The title makes one royal and
makes other minority,
Gives one a life of silver spoon
and gives other inferiority.
Only this separate one from
other and bring forth distinction,
This only brings riot or the
matter of perception.
What is this which bounds
people to forget their humanity?
What is this for which mass
killing don’t caste any
impression in their mentality.
This also makes the mere child
to think like rival,
It will also praise the theory of
blood for blood, which is trivial.
Thus it is the original face of
this era,
Murder, in place of hand to
hand, is the power of the era,
The call of hold my hand when
turns in to blood hunger hooting,
When the spring music turns in
to blast or shooting.
Hai the small king, you are the
gift of our civilization,
Don’t follow the path of our
ancestor, please realize your
humiliation,
The path of rusticity is the boon
of that mighty soul,
Please make it soul spirit, than
you can achieve treasury in the
sac of coal.
I don't have a title for this
But I promise that fear won't become my rival from this
I won't let a horrible moment make me suicidal from this
I have a lot to get off my chest but I don't have a title for this
I refuse to be broken so I'm trying to stay strong
but the flashbacks of what happened, are making every day long
I need to use this anger for something productive and not destructive
I need to find my own closure and allow peace of mind to be my justice
a night out with friends turned bad on my way home
2 guys approached me while I was on my own
They asked if I had a lighter, I told them I don't smoke, then one grabbed me while the other searched my pockets
He didn't take anything, but he touched me inappropriately and there was nothing I could do to stop it
I've never felt less of a man because I froze when he put his hand down my jeans
I felt too embarrassed and humiliated to try and scream
It only lasted about 30 seconds to a minute but it replays a lot in my mind
I'm taking it one day at a time, but I promise that I will be fine
I'm letting this be known because I don't want to bottle it up and have it affect me at a later date
I'm trying to not think about it too much, because my mind won't allow me to remember the guys face
I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing
Even though I was broken that night, I won't allow it to cause me continuous heartbreak
I don't know if I'll talk about this again because it makes me uncomfortable
Never again will I allow myself to be this vulnerable
I'll smile again and fear won't be my rival from this
This was difficult for me to write, I'm sorry that I don't have a title for this
Ladies say, I’m an everyday gentleman
Haters say, I’m a dark knight
I was born on poor ground fit for a pauper,
never lived a prince Waldo life
Honorific titles, I had none —
no sir,
no officer ...
no mister
Just a simple birth name
Later in life,
my surname got added a nickname
Titles tell others who society say you are,
self given self-esteem
It elevates the ego ... pumps up the pride
Still, everybody ain’t treated equal,
or placed on the same level in life
Some get more respect through their title designation,
others get tossed aside, kicked to the curb
In some places where they don’t pick up the trash,
when the wind of change passes through,
crumpled hope gets blown away
Inherit the wind
means a heritage of nothing
Passing the cemetery,
I saw a lot of names that were treated
better than me
Engraved titles in stone
Mottled moss memory of what their title achieved
fades after they’re gone
In life, everybody’s headed for the same destination ...
it doesn’t matter what be your title designation
So call me Freddie ...
say Mister Robinson, if you want to
But honestly, Rico is just fine by me
No one needs a title to receive a kind friendly hello,
and any designation of distinction
is waved goodbye, withersoever the Spirit whirlwind blow
I'd rather see you joyful
than shedding many tears
I'd rather see you confident
than weighted down with fears
If I am feeling happy
then happiness I'll sow
If I am feeling sadness
then you will never know
Mike Wise
3-21-18
sunshine pours in
lemonade fills the glass
Here we are again more negative gossip.
Don’t throw rocks, just look in your closet.
No one is perfect, you shouldn’t point out.
You’re not that special, stay home and pout.
Go back down under and stroll your own lot.
Hateful comments appreciated are not.
The big man on campus, a big mouth indeed.
Why put others down? Is there really a need?
You don’t sound special your words are for not.
You sound more like a hypocritical snot.
Do we talk about your mother and the kids that she raised?
Your arrogant disrespect really leaves me amazed.