Best Unimaginative Poems
Dry Facts Can Perform Juicy Acts
In the EFL community
all around the world
it’s an undeniable
and unpleasant reality that
no matter how well-motivated
you and your students are
no matter how real and acute
the need for learning
a language may be
no matter how well-equipped
the language center is
no matter how well-trained
your instructors might be
still, teaching a language
as a foreign tongue
in a foreign country
in a classroom environment
within four walls
is an artificial endeavor,
pure and simple.
Moreover, the minute the students
step out of the classroom
the little language environment
created in the room
is left behind,
lost and forgotten
until the next class.
Minds boggle at how lively,
how attractive,
how delightful and entertaining,
how effective and powerful
languages can be
at the hands of skillful comedians,
orators, actors, poets and authors
while they all become
utter bores, dry and irrelevant,
with chalk-and-talk-addicted
unimaginative, ordinary instructors
in the language classrooms.
Though language itself is dry
and teaching it mostly boring
the way you introduce it
may engage even the cynical students
if only you yourself believe
that teaching is acting.
Instructors must act
to attract and impact
never mind if students
react without tact
each act will surely get
a few shells cracked
“teaching is the art of changing the brain”
that’s a well-known
neurological fact.
Acting will deliver
student participation
a recipe for motivation
a remedy for alienation.
The target is communication
and retention, not full accuracy
nor perfection, and, please,
leave aside incessant correction,
which definitely leads to
disenchantment and rejection.
Value student participation
and production
encourage interaction
feed vocabulary in collocation
grammar, like medicine,
in the right dosage and proportion
and for God’s sake,
keep your chalk-and-talk
at a minimum fraction.
Remember, an ELT instructor is
a confidence booster
not an error-seeker
or hand-pecking rooster.
Who said ELT was
an educational roller coaster?
Nope. It’s more like a bread toaster,
which takes care of all on the roster.
Idris Esen, February, 2016, Istanbul
I wanted to write something different
Perhaps a little unorthodox
See from a new perspective
Something outside the box
This box is the king of all cliches
Cure for unimaginative thoughts
I'm trying to be more creative
By getting inside the box
What's wrong with thinking inside it?
It's not let me down so far
I happen to thrive in its squareness
It's where my innovation starts
This proverbial box that I think in
With its reliable rigidity
I think that thinking the obvious
Is now vintage creativity.
First name
unique, generous, wondrous, enigmatic, hopeful
Sister of Madonna, Gail, Chris, Diane and Heather
Lover of life, puzzles, people's laughter and language
Who feels loves intensity with hope
Who fears the dark, enclosed spaces, yet feels fearless in the breeze
Who would like to see the masses succeed
Resident of home, a warm embrace, a tender touch
Surname
I found this structure boring and unimaginative and mundane in a world enriched with such flavoursome musings - I unapologetically ruined the form with pride and decided the words below were more entertaining for your reading pleasure... Enjoy me
An ounce of ratbag, a giggle, a bounce and slide,
she puts on her socks and polishes the floor with her moves,
the running dive onto the bed is never a question and she loves to sneak up and tickle.
Frosted grass, and a breaky sunrise eaten from the curb, delights her heart and inspires her mind.
Her one love - a child of impossibility - held on by hope; a chance to live, to laugh.
Intrigued by the landscape of colour, enlightened by touch, cleansed in a breeze.
A smile to light up the dark, delivers a truth profound, generous in love in all its forms.
A dancer in a world of statues, grounded and real, she will lift you up and hold you til your ready.
Musically, she paints the tragic world with grace, sensually depicting each space, raw and defined.
A family of separated ties has carved an independence so fierce she is rarely displaced.
Adopted by the masses, free in spirit she maintains faith, home is all she needs and finds that in many: a comfortable easy smile, a gift of coffee, an open door - embraced.
Loved.
A friendship gift, a unique beautiful ride, buckle up she's arrived...
17/10/2018
*Image of Lovers Night by Pinterest.
Tale of The Night Movers
Hail, a phantom moon
traversing its cloaked
chambered recesses
of her prevalent crown.
Unspool gently and host
minding eyes immersed
within your ethereal pull
exacting Cupid's pursuit
impresses dependably.
Slay suspicious initiatives
yond hints of their riddled
hearts pausing serenity
and tryst capers a fullness
until dawning climbs to a
whispering.
Anticipatory confidences
secure immature adoration,
gift a sense of a certain fling,
for shared planned proof that
sensorial alliance is immortal.
Abiding hearts, minds, and
souls and that its permanence
lingers in all three entities to
be truly entrusted versus all
hardships that dare.
Any challenge purposeth
distraction swayed to disrupt
sanctioned harmony and
impose their nightly fight and
an easy win over the weak.
Lovers supposed union is but
a temporal existence, and
Cupid's aim slumbered apiece,
held in stasis as hostages host
for thoughts to fester.
A mire of serendipity and wished
upon measures of advice, out
from this unlit pullback of the
unimaginative lost, but hail to
the victorious and glorious.
Righteous grit encountering the
opaque influences of damaging
desires to hoodwink the candid
that wore down night's ethical
battle and fortuitous claim.
Justified inevitableness outlasts
twilight's hold by conquering the
gloaming tripped-upon dawn's
call ends nightmarish corps to
collapse.
Cherubs reward a star's chariot
ascent who condones a handheld
coursing and are hereby blessed
with a kiss of permanence and a
dreamt descent.
2022 July 30
Like Oscar Wilde
I can resist everything except temptation
Love, the sweat the moans the passion
She loves but she knows she is no good
I love but my fear is I am not too
It takes two to love but our wills cant do
With death the only thing that terrifies us two
We can survive everything except that boo
So, on your marks, get set, No rush
But I feel like we are running, running out of time
To have our happily ever after and maybe rhyme
Like Oscar wilde
I have nothing to declare but my genius
Love, the tie ,the suit,this plan of mine smart like the groom
Get married,get babies,get bored ,just us
It may not be for you and you will cheat a few
It will kill me though and I will kiss like two
It is necessarily not right nor true
Just because we die for it boo
So ,on your marks,get set ,No rush
But I know we will run,run out of time
To make good of our happily ever after,and maybe rhyme
Like Oscar Wilde
Consistency is the last refuge for the unimaginative
Love, we will grow ,we will change like the truth
Drink some more, make some love, be bad ,it is good
Do it again and again and again you are bored ,I am all you got
You are old and not gold but its you or alone
Because of the little rod and the honey pot of romance boo
Our youth and our souls inheritance we lost to
So, on your marks ,get set ,no rush
There is no need to run ,run with time
This is our happily ever after and we did rhyme
The following statements
are figments of your imagination,
if it were not so, we would of course
steer you in the correct direction
to correct your lack of invisible
imaginary eye sight.
This message is brought to you
by the imaginary invisible station
I.M.A.G which is broadcast from
the mind of Silly Me…to ….you.
Our motto is: Invisible Imagination
cannot be seen with unimaginative
invisible eyes.”
We pride ourselves on living up
to our motto !!
I.M.A.G is dedicated to the theory
that all imagened things not possible are
always possible when invisible
but can only be seen
in the imagination should there
possibly be one to find and should
you actually be able to see it if
it was actually there.
What you think you are reading
is simply a trick your eyes are playing
on your mind. We pride ourselves
on being able to accomplish this feat
so easily. There is actually no page
with words on it before you at this time.
Your screen is simply a blank blue
field of blue or green or whatever
our broadcast audience has deems
soothing to the invisible eye.
Our station is devoted to remaining
“Green”. Because we use neither
paper, nor ink, we feel we have met
the burden of always remaining
environmentally conscience.
We will of course get a major
tax credit for our imaginary
endeavors.
Should I.M.A.G need to test its
broadcasting station or send out
an early response warning, we will
of course use our environmentally
friendly invisible ink for all to imagine
they are able to see and read.
Thank you for tuning in to this
invisibility statement. If you
have failed to see its unimaginable
invisible possibility message,
we sincerely apologize.
We cannot be held liable for your
lack of invisible imagination.
Dragonflies impossibly maneuver,
defying aerodynamics.
Obviously, there is something wrong with our
calculations,
even bumble bees behave like U.F.O’s.
Da Vinci, sketched flying machines
everything is feasible on paper
and we know paper planes can also fly.
A child can imagine a flying peddle bike,
because they can easily ignore
the settled science of gravity.
Peddle power is a real thing.
Children leave room for the impossible,
the way the Wright Brothers did.
Rockets were invented by the unimaginative,
Jules Verne and comic books misled them.
Space travels not about moving through space
as if it were actually a distance.
When we ask what it is - that nothingness
in which objects hang within or fly through,
then we will be close to inventing fire once more.
The sloth and the snail are not moving slow,
the flitting dragonfly, as it sharply veers
and turns in an iota of sky is not moving fast.
They are all equally synchronized,
they just do not consider time as a hurdle
but more of a tunnel.
I can still recall
the taste of that first youthful kiss,
it has not slipped away into a nether place,
it returns when I call to it, that kiss
and many more exclamation marks.
A hummingbirds bewildering feats of aviation,
though explicable, is no less magical,
it should remind us of the origami nature of time,
how it folds to accommodate any space
even a long ago kiss.
Moving on is what they all want to do,
But the victims can't because they are too traumatised,
Or their bodies too damaged,
Maybe even worse, with all contact in this world severed.
The parents of both victim and perpetrator too desensitised,
With too many questions unanswered,
And lack of sleep leaving them broken and demoralised.
The perpetrators may seem pleased,
With no consequences formalised,
But with no help for getting over what materialised,
While taking drugs and alcohol unsupervised,
There is little hope of them being satisfied,
When, if they have not overdosed,
Or spun out while driving disqualified,
They find they have reached an age that makes them terrified,
That jail will be specified.
The police are mortified,
That the rules prohibit any solutions being applied,
Which means no one involved,
Is able to move to a place where sleep is uninterrupted.
Meanwhile those selling the drugs that the waters muddied,
And those who see no harm in shifting the focus to health related,
With no thought being debated,
About the fact that those selling the drugs are not interested,
In their health being bettered,
As they make a killing out of lives being shattered,
Are moving us all to an even darker place, that is more blood splattered.
Are we that unimaginative,
That we cannot find a way to use our initiative,
And find ways more positive,
So, more of us can live,
Without taking drugs more prescriptive,
For our sleep to be less disruptive.
Beauty is said to be skin deep, but
everytime fall comes around, I see
a picture that defies any limitation and
unless one is blind, unfeeling, and unimaginative,
there's just no words to describe such breathtaking colors.
I like all the seasons, but I think the fall is my preference
for reasons extending as far back as my childhood when,
under the leaf-stripped trees could be found a treasury of pecans
left by the mighty winds of a fall storm just in time for the holidays.
Funny sometimes how a storm which harmed others brought goodies to us.
All things are usually relative, but fall's beauty is more than skin deep.
Life is like a fall season defined by alterations, bridges, and rotations.
Living in a fall season also relates to a life, after being chased by the sun, finds a cool reprieve
09062018PoSoupContest, Fall Season, John Hamilton
A void
A vacuum
I am an empty space and unyielding
Barren and dry
A word desert
A vulture lands and picks at
a dead sentence
The clouds of a brainstorm
hover and shrink in the distance
And the air is stale with the unimaginative
I can tell that nothing good
will be written tonight
"I hope for a hereafter, where there would be four rivers,
one of clear water, one of milk, one of honey and one of wine.
a place where there would be high thrones and tall people;
where green silk clothes would be worn, with gold bracelets and crown full of rubies.
Peace will be lingering in the air,
evil will be jealous, its heart blaring as bright as the sun rays.
the sand underneath the feet would be of gems, from emeralds, to sapphire, to topaz and diamonds.
and there would be boys like pearls walking around, their beauty too bashful to perceive, unimaginative to fathom.
a life I want,
a life I dream of.
where every sound is like a soft piano key,
where every heart beat is tranquility.
There would be nothing but what you wish for,
a place filled with possibilites, infinities and everlasting certainties.
Smiles will be on each and every face,
a joyous moment that will never perish.
a place that will never end.
an irresistible beginning that will last forever.
Oh, how I would give anything to stain myself with a piece of heaven,
Oh, I would rather get martyred than die in vain.
everyone asks if there is a life other than this, other than today.
I will say Yes, there is.
A Nirvana that will be a thousand times better than your lousy Saturdays.
You wont be sad,
you wont be hurt,
you'll only feel glad,
you'll be overflowing with mirth."
We are meant to break the ice of hibernation.
Each year as spring begins.
All winter was a trance.
Which kept me warm, but also unimaginative.
Now, I am uninhibited.
Spring is, at first, an interruption.
But eventually it becomes all encompassing.
Leaves that are elegant.
That flatter the stoic branches.
Hope that was once obscure.
During that winter that used to protect us all.
She is a teen
No idea she is gorgeous
Trying to be like other teens
Not recognizing her own talents and uniqueness
They wear a streak of blue in their hair, so she does too
The “popular” teens, the ones she emulates
Not recognizing her own talents or strengths
I watch her try to fit into their unimaginative boxes, and I cringe.
She is all that and more.
She has no idea yet
She will one day, but for now
It is enough to wear the blue streak and feel popular
She will not remember this when she has her own teen
Wondering why they are trying so hard
To be something less than themselves
I watch and say nothing
She lived to be the oldest of a staid,
unremarkable bourgeois family.
Lavender and off-white lace,
complemented her black ruffled attire.
She played the Granddame with much aplomb,
the matriarch of her passionless clan.
Occasionally her offspring
and her offspring’s offspring came to her for money,
a few with questions, appeals, unctuous compliments
She offered only sneers, curled and haughty lips.
In her days there were giants on earth,
they did not reach just for the middle shelves.
Their thoughts were painted hot-air balloons,
they imagined rocket ships made out of
bicycle parts.
Was it her fault that humanity had shrunk?
Day after day she gave audience
to unimaginative midgets, the small minded
affronted by her regal demeanor.
When she died they gathered
to pick the spoils, unfortunately for them
she had long disinherited her fortune
considering her kindred all just cheap satin
stitched over bovine buttocks.
The tears line down my face
While looking for human life I find not a trace
The creepy howls of wolves in the distance
Never have I been in something like this instance
The world got overrun by fools
With unimaginative different tools
They destroyed life's story
Before God's glory
And made us slaves of them all
While distant eyes dance along redwood trees so tall
What do we do when the world is lost?
How will we fix this expensive cost?
Who do we turn to when all faith fails?
Where do we go now when all else prevails?
Smiles of children slowly fade
We left our sweet world --- hardly anyone stayed
Secured insecurities killed us to death
Because world's support just suddenly left
Apolocaylpse comes when you least expect it
And comfort-zones uninvited begin to shift
They wiped out our world like a dead bug on the glass
As if everyone just suddenly lost their unique class
No more churches or temples, religion or law
Still no one more powerful than God --- so it's a draw
Now we work hard to restore our genuine Earth
And still celebrate The Christ Jesus' birth
Nothing will stop this sweet world from growing
No one will stop us from constantly knowing
Nothing will take from us what we earned
Nothing can wipe out what we've already learned
See faith is a strong weapon, the strongest of them all
Even when all else begins to just fall
You have to have it regardless of what you do
But nowadays, there seems very few
Study your religion and growth to the max
And analyze closely at your wonderful facts
Because life is not lost unless you take it yourself
Never be scared of any faith you have --- don't hide it on a shelf
There is more support here then you'd ever know
Listen and watch as our young generations begin to grow
So please take my advice for my advice is true
And stop everyday, kneel, and say to Him, "thank you"
Thank Him for giving you life
Thank Him for saving you from world's little strife
Thank Him for walking beside you everyday
Thank Him for everything in any possible way
Thank Him for dying on that cross
Thank Him for creating Earth --- the trees, oceans, wildlife --- even moss
And you will find yourself in front of a gold gate
Because throughout your life you stuck to your faith
Dedicated to: Anyone who has a Religion