Best Vogue Poems
Hermetics heirs presumptives of, harum-scarum....
Speculums mist beyond the threshold paints this night
With colours dipped in oils vibrant shadows of avatars
Soothsayers spring tide canvas' framed by
Buteos zenith....
Vantaged splashings from upon, the avant-gardes
Separtist spaces amid such moments tembres these
Belles-lettres', artesians wells of euphemisms eulogies towards this
Hexagons phoenix now vivified from yesteryears
Bittersweet nightshade personified; segues seignior!?
Renaissonic refurbs....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....In vogue ~
Note: Smile ~ A poetic kiss amid the celebrative marking of my
fourth anniversary here today at, Poetry Soup! ~ "Love," John!:) ~
Blue collared of the swindled lot, cannot resent just brace
Credibility so easily slapped for rough hide when pieces put into place
Daybreak compels list of chores into focus
Semblance to rain faberge for owners of circus
Stolid apparell for hauling load, a sanctioned acrostic of strength
Entered by destiny but no exit even if they desire from this labyrinth
Justice a joke in fractal trigonometry
Law a limbered warble for rich but austere for those in poverty
Dusk time in regailing assortment of means to satiate hunger pangs
Overlooking the shoulders, for the voted cult may suck scraps over tax returns
Samiha's serpentine gaze keeps vigil for mendacious ritual by rich perennially every May
Sustainance on others ration will ensnare them in a time warp of condemn and ruin someday
Hermetics heirs presumptives of, harum-scarum....
Speculum's mist beyound the threshold paints this night
With colours dipped in oils vibrant shadows of avatar's
Soothsayers spring tide canvas' framed by
Buteos zenith ~
Vantaged splashings from upon, the avant-garde's
Separtist spaces amid such, moments; tembres these
Belles-lettres', artesians wells of euphemisms eulogies towards this
Hexagon's phoenix now vivified from yesteryears
Bittersweet nightshade personified; segues seignior!? Renaissonic refurbs.
2010 is ringing out
2011 is on the threshold
Joy and cheer enjoyed
may we carry forward and hold
Grief and pain endured
may we carry forward as lessons in bold
Year just a parameter
lets not wish in parts, wish till deaths cold
Many have wished
let your wish be pure to impact many fold
Wishing without feel is in vogue
pain still exists as wishes mailed, Greetings sold
Lets resolve to wish with heart
joy, peace be not extinct as mythical pot of gold
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
To all Soup colleagues ~~~~~
Heartfelt wishes / warm hugs / tons of love
~~~~~~~~~~for Happy 2011
Hitendra Mehta
Vibrant verbs vouch
Orphan our ouch
Give grumpy grudge
Use unseen urge
Echoes emerge
Vet verse visions
Odd opinions
Gift greets gumption
Umpteen union
Etch emissions
Voice votes vibrant
Only old Orion
Glimpse glitch given
Undo urgent
End emergent
Vocal voice verse
Obscure observe
Glowing grace gleams
Unite upstream
Etching esteem
Virtual visuals
Offers obsess
Groom glowing guest
Undo unrest
Endow express
Leon Enriquez
31 Mar 2014
Singapore
A simple aspect
this is, but then I believe
the finest sight seen today!
The application
of old folk shuffling on by
in life’s juncture ‘Holding Hands’.
© Harry J Horsman 2010
There was truly nothing left to do in this place ?
But try and paint since joy as dreams had vanished
Her novelty slipped away ? A pendulum of vague slicing
Through time's wreckage left drifting atop florids sophist sea..
Deciphering her silkworms cocoon; spun amid a glissade of words.
VOGUE
en masse
charms
in equal
measure
so
curiously rare
previously
a pleasure
yet
unaware
with
flashes
of
liveliness
stutters
by
bound by
the diverse
so poignant
interlaced
with affectation
such
enlivening
detail
& experemental
forays
a flurry
of the innovative
now
long
forsaken
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Used to be we'd pay to see freaks on the carnival way.
Now, for free at the mall we can see some most every day!
Kids (and adults) with tattoos, purple hair, nose and eyebrow rings,
Navel rings, tongue studs and other self-mutilating things!
Now, of course, we didn't do such things six decades ago!
Our parents would have disowned us - besides we had no dough!
Sure, guys wore zoot suits with baggy pants and chain.
I just can't comprehend today's modes, they seem so arcane!
Gals wore battered saddle shoes and one of Dad's old shirts,
With tails flapping in the breeze over their poodle skirts!
They wore bras (or so I'm told), hair coiffured with bangs,
They didn't bare their navels and hang out with rowdy gangs!
It's hard to discern who is who when viewing them from the aft.
Two long-haired kids, holding hands, and acting rather daft!
Is it the "he" on the right or is "he" the one on the left?
It's none of my concern, tho' it does leave my curiosity bereft!
I suppose it's all the rage to let the kids do their thing,
While they're young and carefree, let them have their fling.
I'll roll my eyes and shake my head, looking on aghast,
Wondering what's next after these current fads have passed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
i like and love vogue and one life too live. my favorite is young and the restless. my name
is Jennifer Michelle. I love starbucks. the milky way is cool
I intend touring around the globe
For something I just wish to now probe:
Not how many guys wear clothes like robe
Nor how many would build with adobe;
Rather, whether it is now in vogue
To put to death a suspected rogue,
Standing on reasons strong but still vague;
Mock trial: The abhorrence of Hague,
Unleashed upon some soul Egypt’s Plague;
By God first arranged for the Non-Vague
But I’ve been advised: face Africa!
For your tours you leave Costa Rica
And don’t even near America;
All through guided by Britannica…
one need not be cosmopolitan nor urbane
but like me just a common and simple fellow
whom this bumpkin t'would never be called vain
doing his level best to ride the gravy train
voicing sentiments in league like an ordinary swain
recounting how those forebears occupied a royal reign
composing this, that or the other anonymous quatrain
perhaps even adorning an irish pen name like o'shane
just one humble poet whose verse one might call plain
reaching to win the heart of this paramour in the main
taking an idyllic stroll along lover's lane
taking in silent subtle musings like some citizen kane
this common joe holding hands with his ordinary jane.
one need not be cosmopolitan nor urbane
but like me just a common and simple fellow
whom this bumpkin t'would never be called vain
doing his level best to ride the gravy train
voicing sentiments in league like an ordinary swain
recounting how those forebears occupied a royal reign
composing this, that or the other anonymous quatrain
perhaps even adorning an irish pen name like o'shane
just one humble poet whose verse one might call plain
reaching to win the heart of this paramour in the main
taking an idyllic stroll along lover's lane
taking in silent subtle musings like some citizen kane
this common joe holding hands with his ordinary jane.
The girls in the Vogue magazines
Their hair’s lucious, healthy,
Thicker than I could ever imagine
Their smiles don’t seem fake
Their clothes sit on their body
Their dream body
The type that every girl on the internet is looking for
Working out for
Fasting for
So they could achieve such body goals
I stand in the mirror, brushing my hair
It’s thin and damaged
Flat like I could never imagine
My smile seems far too fake
My clothes don’t sit on my body as they should
I don’t have the dream body
That every girl on the internet is looking for
Working out for
Fasting for
So they could achieve such body goals
While the Vogue cover girls
Like as if they’re full of life
I look as if I’m dead inside
Which I truly, truly am
And I’ve grown tired of hiding it
Diamond-bright-eyes,
Like king Solomon wise,
But like those of a rogue,
Lusting for valuables in vogue;
From parcel shifting to parcel,
The unlikeliest to indulge any counsel,
Of money, commanded ears listen to its rustle,
Not to its owners hustle and bustle,
Nor to his heaves of his muscle...
These are not what Christ wants,
Nor the baptisms in his fonts.