Best Word Play Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Word Play poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of word play poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Word Play Poems

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Word Play Rhyme Skills by Trim, Nick
Leave two Eat Word Play by Babu, Sathya
Word Play by Jones, Patience
How do i diagnosis this playful word play by Bohto, Holly
Here me write - Word play Homophone by Babu, Sathya
Word Play by Bickerstaffe, Keith
Word Play by DeSpirito, Peter
Word Play by Quick, XNovia
Word Play by Oliver Rotman, Mary
Word Play by Lamoureux, Richard
word play by Williams, Destiny
Week Daze: Not A Poem, but Word Play : ) by Mitchell, Virginia
Word Play II by Mason, Sue
Word Play I by Mason, Sue
Word play ONE by Esquire, HGarvey Daniel

View all new Word Play Poems

The Best Word Play Poems

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POETRY FOR POETS: i own this- edition

Well hopefully you've read the last "Poetry for Poets", now here's the one I wanted to write, enjoy...

(I own this- edition)

more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the shit of life

Some grow wild
seeking their light
through a gnarled thicket
of images
and symbolism.
Ill watered
or sprayed with chemical defoliants
they strangle themselves,
managing to blossom.

Poems thoughtfully precisely planted
to achieve optimum yield

			though occasionally
		poems require		to be forged
	beaten into shape
like a horse shoe
with a few holes
	accurately placed
		ensuring they		will be nailed
			to their purpose

dead words and metaphors 
selectively snipped away
stunning display

There are times when it’s best to live with your poetry
Cover yourself with its words until they stretch and become sloppery
For its comfort increases as the stanzas begin to fray
Patched elbows illuminating what you intend to say
And eventually you’ll have a poem to slip into by the fire
To savour with hot chocolate as it ignites your desire

more organic than fertilizer
flourish when tendered
with love

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2015

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Listen to poem:
YOUR BETTER END To be To stare To contemplate To risk To dare Once and again To trust To leap A Jump of faith To fall To land No one can say To forgive To forget Or try again To breathe To love Feel whole and place The fears The doubts To rest and then To grow To become Your better end *** January 20, 2017

Copyright © Claudia Polydoro | Year Posted 2017

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Trayvon Brown

Walk with me,

cuz I don't wanna die young, 
I wanna grow old and have 
a daughter or a son, or maybe both, 
to live a full life is my hope,
but the bullets in your gun 
are a noose around my throat.

I promise you I wanna LIVE,
I wanna show the world everything I have to give
and it's a lot, and yea I might smoke a little pot,
but so Bill Clinton and HE didn't get shot.

I got plans for my future,
that don't include a cop saying
stop and let me shoot ya

my hands are clearly in the air
I start school next week and I wanna
make it there.

But you..... SHOT,
and let me die in the streets,
now my people want answers 
No justice no peace.

Copyright © Cairo Asikari | Year Posted 2014

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adventure, growing up, hip hop, repetition, word play

Life is but a hopscotch path
Players vying for placement
Rules to follow aground
Tokens used for good luck
Practice runs lead to safe landings
Over ever-changing terrains
Hop skip and jump!

Land on a crack
You break your Mudder’s back
Marbles fill a bag of loot
Once directed into home holes
Missed turns are your takings
Marbled cat eyes forever coveted!
Crayons come in packs
Pick a colour to your taste
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Black is for rain clouds
Gone is a sun yellow

A is for Apple-
B is for Bunny-
C is for caterwauling
Letters up for a draw
Lettered tongues speak
The bad, good and the ugly
Making mountains out of mole hills!
Name-calling never hurts 
Pain hurts from thrown stones
Calling one to take a chance
Towards another hopscotch
With hop skips and jumps
One step, two steps, three steps more!

Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015

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Common Sense

Now I’m thinking, while sitting on a chair,
There is something that I would like to share
I fear my mind is dense
Can’t make out common sense
How come they call it common if it’s rare?

Quote: “Common sense is very uncommon” 
                    (Helen Gurley Brown)
            "Common sense is not so common"
Contest: Dumb and Dumber Personal quotes
Sponsor: John Freeman

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Spoonerism Poetry: She's Too Titty

She’s too titty to be a preacher.
She can’t even bead a rook.
A rental deceptionist?  Maybe.
At my teeth she once look a took.

As a wean clerker, she’ll never do.
I once caught her nicking her pose.
She doesn’t even hash her wands.
And she chews the tails off her nose!

For this lad sass, I see joe knob.
No mouse or honey has she.
Her life has not one pun fart!
I’m glow sad I’m shot knee.

Written march 25, 2016 for the Contest of Roy Jerden

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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How do you change a lie into the truth?
Alchemy, dear children ...
this is how it's done, using unverifiable proof
First, you take a sick, dirty lie,
and doctor it up as truth
Whitewash and scrub it clean,
then jet power it with unsubstantiated verbal steam
That should make the lie thoroughly sanitized
Then play a continuous sound byte loop,
uncorroborated and fact-free
Present the fake news with a five-star salute,
then say secrecy is the true path to liberty
This rings eerily like New Age alchemy,
bell-tolling Faustian chemistry
If that ain't a manufactured alternate reality,
then somebody is lying to us obviously
How do you do this, change a lie into the truth?
Alchemy, dear children ...
this is how it's done, using fabricated proof
Next, you take a package,
and deliver it to the people,
with a Trojan horse message inside
But the people don't know it's harmful,
because they labeled it with a lie
See, that's the beauty of deception,
they don't call a lie a lie
Instead they choose another word,
as they place the pirate patch over their eye
Misleading, false claims
Plausible deniability
Choose whichever words you will,
a lie is a lie is a lie still
Changing a word won't make a falsehood real
Taste the propaganda spoiled sauerkraut;
as alternative facts are trotted out,
and disinformation is bandied about
Know that immoral alchemy is being performed
by high wizards of the dark arts
Frankenstein experiments in need of more body parts
Don't be bewitched by lying craft,
don't get (con)fused by this manipulative graft
into a cancerous body politic
Changing a lie into the truth
is the ultimate alchemist trick

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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On The Bottom Shelf

He made me ponder my greatest fear
not ghosts nor goblins grinning ear to ear
The one that I really fear most 
is the one peering back from the mirror
Is he real or will he just disappear 
Will anyone remember he was ever here

That person I present
the one white washed and sanitized 
representing the best of me
So I become a dim copy rationalized
Manicured, self fantasized
Will my true self ever be realized 
Or am I destined to be compartmentalized
packaged pretty, thoughts pasteurized 

Does anyone else worry 
what others might discover
A mother wife sister or brother
The dark thoughts that make us shudder
that choke the brain and threaten to smother
If they could see inside would they run for cover

So we protect them and ourselves
keep bits hidden away on shelves
Screaming for release but afraid 
what might happen if someone tells
We ain't always pretty, stagnant water smells
Instead bang the gong and ring the bells
If it's inside release it with yells

What will happen if we face our thoughts
Is it really us maybe it's not
Are we just scared boys and girls tied in knots
Trying to push it all down deeper 
that stuff we've been taught
Take aim, release those expectations
another life can't be bought
Make the best of the one you've got!

For "What you Fear Most" contest.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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Poetry Thoughts

Poetry Thoughts

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to my vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

Words given by ancient gnarly trees
echoes embraced from tumbling seas
Sounds of silence in forested glen
far away from greed and wiles of men

Cry from distant stars or cold stone
shadows dancing by moonlight shown
Fleeting grabs at moments of serenity
promising future gift of infinity

I am giant tree reaching to the sky
spreading my limbs out and so high
Mirror of Life's fantastic desires
a creature cast from heavenly fires

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to a vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

Imagination brings sweet words to ink
volleys from ship impossible to sink
Heart beaten into indestructible bell
Sounding red rose, eating its smell

I am a river, flooding poetic page
servant of Nature, slave to my sage
Erupting volcano spewing heated ash
darkness that dares to live to smash

The great joy of seeing a newborn son
elation of finishing a marathon run
Memories of dancing in pouring rain
blessing of finding lost love again

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to my vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

April 30, 2016


For the contest, Poetry _________ Fill in the Blank
sponsor, PD

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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Kung Fu Wisdom

"Boards don't hit back"  (Bruce Lee).
"Boards do hit back" (Bruised Knee).

Copyright © Ray Gridley | Year Posted 2017

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Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a gun
Low self-esteem wanting popularity,
gather together in small clusters
Grapes of wrath ... attack anybody 
who try to break the bind
Verbal popping every moving target
in the movie theater line 
Estrogen cries when the dust clears,
another reject cherry fell off the vine
Teachers can’t separate the sisterhood bond,
boyfriends ain’t nothing but pretty toys
Cat fights and tussles are only loud noise,
a lot of ugly ducklings swimming in the pond
Clique ... clique
Squeeze off another round
Mile high dreams everybody in the group got,
but somebody is creeping ... talking behind their back
A poser is in the midst,
and the leader is gonna handle it
Put a cheesy lip rumor in the mouse trap,
throw a house party and hire a band
Thieving eyes which covets your man,
catch ‘em in the act, give ‘em a double tap
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a gun
that’s loaded with angst bullets
And everybody’s been shot by one
Lip blasting every moving target
in the stadium ticket line 
Testosterone cries when the dust clears,
another reject berry fell off the vine
Parents can’t separate the brotherhood bond,
girlfriends ain’t nothing but pretty toys
Fistfights and scraps are only loud noise,
a lot of ugly ducklings swimming in the pond
Clique ... clique
Squeeze off another round
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
Give your friend a cigarette,
urge them to try one
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
Give your friends the bottle of hooch,
urge them to try some
Clique ... clique
Peer pressure is a smoking gun
So hit the brakes hard,
you little Bonnie and Clydes
or your life will be in for
a shoot ‘em up, bang bang ride

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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My Poetrysoup Recipe

I write my poems in a brown leather book
Simple and neat like the food that I cook

My ingredients are simple, no words too small
My vocabulary is easy, so I can use it all

I live at the beach and I play in the sand
But inspiration doesn’t come from this sun-soaked land

I was born in the mountains and there I roam free
As my stories will tell, that’s where I long to be

So I add some spice from my hillside past
And a dash from my families impoverished caste

I’ll throw into the mix a good joke or two
A little humor about an old mountain shrew

Maybe a pinch of the Gospel to remind me why I’m here
And a little bit extra for the non-believers to hear

Like any good food, it tastes good raw
But never watered down, you can’t drink it with a straw

It has to be chewed and properly digested
If I’ve done my job right you should be deeply affected.

MY POETRY SOUP RECIPE - Poetry Contest 1/18/17

Copyright © James Andersen | Year Posted 2017

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December 2017

Extremely high winds are forecast due to an influx of sprouts over Christmas . My New Year’s resolution to avoid chocolate is not the only dark cloud on the horizon

January 2018

We have eaten the last of the sprouts so the prevailing winds have subsided! The air pollution warning is now on amber alert.
Many areas of the country will be suffering from deep depression. This is due to a heavy cloud of debt lingering after a cyclone of over spending during the festive period

February 2018

I’m in the doldrums as the period of deep depression continues, for some people it will last for many months. A blizzard of bills are expected and it has dawned on me I need to observe a degree of self control next year

March 2018

Arid conditions are felt in my wallet and I’m under pressure to pay off the monsoon of bills. The pressure is rising and I can feel the chill factor if they don’t get paid

April 2018

I am continuing my diet so there are nor’easter eggs for me

May 2018

My neighbour is expecting her baby so we have advanced warning of flash flooding, which may occur at any time during the month. The baby is to be called Gail. We are hoping she will be a ray of sunshine and not wet and windy.

June 2018

I am going to be child-minding Gail so I expect a lot of damp patches and prevailing wind. I hope Gail is temperate as I don't think I could cope with a howling Gail!

July 2018

We are due to get a visit from the icy mother in law and are predicting a degree of turbulence. She breezes into our house and always gives us such a frosty reception; it takes a long time before she thaws. I can only tolerate her in small doses, I hope she backs off otherwise I could reach boiling point.

August 2018

I’m going on holiday and will be found sunbathing on a beach in Hawaii. I am hoping for sunshine, as I do like a warm front!

September 2018

From past observation there will be a tide of Christmas tat on the shelves. I will promise my hubby that I’ll curb my spending on my current account and not eclipse last year’s hail of debt.

October 2018

Hubby has issued me a severe red warning not to overspend this year!

November 2018 

I have reached saturation point with the tsunami of cards I have to write … I hope the postmen do not have another lightning strike this year.

December 2018

Yippee! Sprouts are back on sale in the shops. More strong winds are predicted which may reach gale force at times!


Weather Forecast 2018 contest
Sponsored by Viv Wigley


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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Knock Knock

Knock, knock who's there in my bathroom?
Jan the princess of posterior interior transfer

Knock, knock who's there not in my hot tub?
Cheryl the magnificent moonlight moon pie muncher

Knock, knock who's there in the pickle barrel?
Dale the satisfied stickler for the wife of the pickler

Knock, knock who's there flushing eyes for 15 minutes?
John the Master of Disastrous WD-40 tears

Knock, Knock who's there walking around all comfortable?
Maureen the anxious advocate of flat, wide, comfy, shoes

Knock, Knock. Who's there out in the forest?
Kevin the observer of the great grizzly wet haired bear!

Knock, Knock Who's there on the highway
Julie the crazy copper hating motorcycle driving lizard lover!

Just who dares to talk about normal poets names
Pat the shameless poet names dropper is to blame!

Copyright © PAT Adams | Year Posted 2017

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A Plate of Disorder

A Plate of Disorder

Are you ready to Disorder Sir?
What can I tempt you for a starter,
May I recommend the Turmoil Soup?
Garnished with Havoc Green Tartar.

For the main, perhaps our house speciality,
Goujons of Chaos and Sweet Bedlam.
With a Medley of Confusion and Mess,
Served on a bed of Smoked Mayhem.

On the Dessert Trolley tonight,
We have a Disarray of Cheese Cake,
A delicious Rhubarb Anarchy,
Or Sticky Turbulent Plum Bake.

Please enjoy your hearty and Riotous feast,
May it temper and fulfil the agitated beast.

Copyright © Kevin Shaw | Year Posted 2017

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A Man from Duluth

There once was a man from Duluth
whose habit was spinning the truth.
He had told the same tale
(every day without fail;
'twas getting quite long in the tooth).

He sat down to drink in a booth
then ordered a double vermouth.
He said a tornado
shaped like a potato
had taken his poor wife named, Ruth!

The men in the bar yelled, “Forsooth!”
But one woman thought it was truth
(the gal was a newbie
who'd just smoked a doobie)
and sent more vermouth to the booth.

“The first time I ever saw Ruth,”
he said, toasting her with vermouth,
(Though usually crisp
when he drank he'd a lisp),
“wath back in my youth in Duluth.

“She'd one perpendicular tooth.
When she withled came her pet gooth.
It wath love at firth thight
and we wedded that night
with her gooth on top of a mooth!”

“We honeymooned outthide Duluth
in a cabooth, just me and Ruth.”
He then heaved a big sigh
(he was getting quite high)
“And of courthe the mooth and her gooth.”

He took a big swig of vermouth
and said that they never found Ruth.
“Just an arm at the mall
and her foot on a wall,
pluth one thingle tooth in Duluth.”

He wept as he pined for his youth,
so the gal ordered up more vermouth.
Then the telephone rang
and the bartender sang,
“It's Ruth, your ex-wife in Duluth.

It's I telling you the sad truth
about her and 'who goothed the mooth'!
Now she wants a good check
that won't bounce, you old wreck,
like the last at Bank of Duluth!”

The new gal cried, “Cad, You're uncouth!
You gave your eyetooth it was truth
of poor Ruth and her gooth,
the cabooth and the mooth
in Duluth, and all for vermouth!”

The man said, “The truth in Duluth
and why I keep hitting the juithe
ith that Ruth and the mooth,
the cabooth and her gooth
were a nooth I had to cut looth!”

The new gal cried, “There weren't no gooth,
nor mooth or cabooth in Duluth!
There was just poor old Ruth
and some nooth that was looth,
plus a drunk who soaked up the juithe!”

The man from Duluth knew the truth,
“Thereth no more vermouth. Whath the uthe?”
So he crept out the back,
but the rest knew the tack:
he'd be back next day for vermouth!

Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2018

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The Writer In Me

Is a soldier
He uses original paint to avoid crises during his war paintings
To avoid worries he frames experience in simple pictures
He knows tears can erase many water painting on written walls
The writer in me is so mean he never falls

He dribbles my own calculated footsteps
Like mistakes and lessons when you walk pass six plus six plus six
Everything stay fixed
He staples his lips in smiles
Equalizers are irritating to adjust during rush hour gossips

Mini enemies minimizes energy to maximize external intentions
In real time the writer in me anticipates to test drive defenseless expressions
He smiles in mirrors defining his images of a convincing writer
The writer in me intends to testify less physical intentions
Like expressions written in useless reactions chasing perfection in tender loving courage

The writer in me is so dodgy
Dishonest but real in realistic dialogues diluted by real facts
An idiot so like a student translating Sepulana into meaningful alphabets
He paints images upside down so readers can read what’s not written
He escaped judgement day buy judging his days
The writer in others like those other writers who read and walk their readings re-think history's footsteps

They speak statements under shadows of their own pavements
Writing is the stupidest weapon 
It does shoot at bees spreading in million ways to play hide and sick
Love sick no approval from eggs to donate farts
Rotten farts from realities long boiled eggs

Hide and sick is the hardest champion ship driven by waves between chewing gums
Some dirty behaviors are thirsty for improvisational gums
The writer in me whispers a lie in a group of nothing
And receive awards for hearing nothing 
Painters can paint you pushing a wrong truck of your own hustle 

I wonder how it feels seeing the seconds between a picture snapped from a 1994 digital camera energy
Those expensive nothings that will always be something
The writer in me knows the answer to all combined maths and history's favorite soundtracks
Freedom is a prison located in your mind

© Raymond Ngomane 

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2015

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  Renegades Foreva!

Renegade teenage rage babes 
thinkin’ they all grown, all knowin’ 
when they seedlin’s barely sown
bleedin’ teenage angst with teenage crankst
always rhymin’ and mis-timin’ some poetry-crimin’  
mis-mashin', diss-bashin' 
word-clashin' song 
heard on some half-sappy, sex-happy, 
yap-rap, smack-attack vid 
made by some brotha who’s just anotha 
angry angst-ridden 
wannabe gangsta kid

With a street beat
they be hummin’ or singin’ along
repeatin’ the deceit 
not knowin’ curse verses 
are just plain wrong and mostly maligin’   
while grownups in earshot 
takin’ all them swearshots
wishin’ them words had sweeter rhymin’ 
or that kids be more discreet 
would take their claptrap, 
no-class, crass-crack lyrics 
and just tweet ‘em or mime ‘em

But if ‘dults could go back, meet themselves
when they was punk teens 
fittin’ into pre-shrunk his or her hunk jeans
listenin’, partyin’ to poppin’ rockin’ 
unusual musical junk boy band scenes
and lettin’ out star-struck 
groanal hormonal 
no-one-could-understand gland screams    
then they’d be amused ya know, 
might change their views ya know 
cause remind ‘em not so pristine 
when child and ‘dult they was in-between

Kids always lookin’ to find 
who they are and who they be 
imprisoned involuntarily 
in their youthful penitentiary 
no matter what century they be from you see            

So if  thinkin’ rap sucks cause 
it’s just no-class hurls and low-class slurs 
then fire-up that flux capacitor of yours, 
head back to yo’ past and meet yo’ younger him or hers
see your own rebelling mis-teen-stakes 
then rapping notions you might reshape
or rapping judgments remake
or least maybe now tolerate new-age teenage
rapping outbreaks and in-yo-face ear-quakes 
realizin’ that come whateva or wheneva
that all teens now, before an’ where-eva 
will evamore and eva be 
natural renegades foreva! 

© 2014 all rights reserved

Copyright © Andy Richards | Year Posted 2014

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*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description. 
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****


Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink asshole.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.


Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.





We OTTO-matically 
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)

So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?

*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014

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The Call of the Alpha Male

Robin Hood, man in tights Julius Caesar, might makes right Alexander, called "the Great" Sitting Bull, righteous hate Robert the Bruce, Attila the Hun Charlemagne, Napoleon Hear the call of the alpha male! Warriors leave a bloody trail. George Washington, man on the spot JFK and Camelot Thomas Jefferson, renaissance man Abe Lincoln took a stand Ronald Reagan, Richard III Henry VIII, Harry Byrd Hear the call of the alpha male! In politics it's all for sale. Hemingway, Shakespeare, Kant, and Plato Chaucer, Shelley, Cicero, Cato Voltaire, Dickens, Rene Descartes Byron, Lawrence, Jean-Paul Sartre Hear the call of the alpha male! Some prefer to write the tale. Wolfgang Mozart, dead so young Leonard Bernstein's song is sung Picasso, art you love to hate Ludwig Beethoven, voice of Fate Bach, Lennon, and Shostakovich Monet, Manet, Buddy Rich Hear the call of the alpha male! Art and music fill some sails. Joe Montana, football star Michael Jordan raised the bar Wayne Gretzsky, Hall of Fame Jesse Owens changed the game Rockne, Ruth, Gehrig, Orr Chamberlain, Beckham, Man O' War Hear the call of the alpha male! Athletic prowess up for sale. Tyrone Power, Harrison Ford John Glenn, Sir Thomas More Edmund Hillary, John Donne Albert Einstein, Brigham Young James Dean, Alvin York Margaret Thatcher, Robert Bork Audie Murphy, Mohandas Gandhi Chris Columbus, Walter Ralegh Hear the call of the alpha male! Now it's time to end this tale. Woe to she who hears his cry, Destined, like as not, to die; For alpha males blaze bright and sweet, But she-moths burn inside their heat.

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015

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Dialogue of Place

Dialogue of  {Place}

Should I whisper words
that hang on memory’s peaks,
cumulous across my forehead?

A world of words - connected
like tides to the moon.

Words that mingle and rise,
as mist from a valley 
or, dwell in half forgotten dreams;
endless as ocean waves,
or vistas of flowering fields.

Beautiful words
that tell me of my place.

Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2015

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Nail Art

Nails grow long and shapely
Standing out against the 
Finger where it is filed
Down to a silhouette
That forms an erotic
Design against
The backdrop
Of fleshy
Colored with
Reds, pinks, auburns,
All the colors of polishes
Meant to reflect the glowing
Profiles of these well-rounded
Voluptuous digits that correspond
To the beautiful hand they are attached
To and are used to do the their daily tasks

Double reverse Etheree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
Written on September 24, 2014

Copyright © Regina Riddle | Year Posted 2014

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I don't know and what if

I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
Let it sink in
I don't know the answer
I don't know who you are
I don't know myself
I don't know how to get there
I don't know her
I don't know you that well
I don't know the next step

I don't know the answer
Or maybe I do
What if I am pretending
What if not knowing is my way of controlling you
Not having to take responsibility
What if I just want to see what you know
What if I am practicing to become a politician
Or maybe it's true 
I don't know

I don't know who you are
I would like to
Really I would
What if we spent more time together
I think that would help
What if you opened up a bit more
What if I listened more
That's not always easy
I'm still trying to figure out myself
That's right
I don't know myself

There are times I think I do
When I think I have figured me out
What if I'm deluding myself
What if I can't handle the truth
What if I need some time alone, to figure it out
What if I don't know, how to get there from here

I could ask for directions
Then what kind of man would I be
What if it would be okay, to question myself
To be able to say 
I don't know
I don't have the answers
What if like you, I'm just trying to figure it out
What if, I know myself better than I think
What if it's my way, of protecting myself

When I was young
A girl said "I don't know you that well"
Still she wanted to be with me
Not because she wanted to know me better
It was a hunger we both felt
I don't know her anymore
I didn't know her then
What if I had said no
Had not gone down that road to losing myself
What if I had waited
Waited, till I knew myself
Just a little better
I don't know
And yes sometimes I do
What if "I don't know" is the excuse I used
To do the things
I wanted to do
What if by saying, "I don't know the next step"
I wasn't responsible
I didn't have to take the blame
I could have waited
But I didn't want to

I don't know
I don't know
What if
I did
What if I do
I don't know
What if 
What if it's all nothing but a game
I don't know
Still round and round I go
What if
I stopped
I don't know
I just don't know!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Cereal Killer

Cereal Killer

The story of his life
a made for TV thriller.
Title in blood red
life of a cereal killer.

He don’t want no fried eggs
or peanut butter toast.
He killed a box of grape nuts once
but he don’t like to boast.

He has Wheaties for his breakfast
Cheerios for his lunch.
For a mid day snack
he likes Captain Crunch.

He don’t want a T-bone
he don’t want French silk.
Corn flakes and some sugar
in a great big bowl of milk.

Along about suppertime
as he hides from the cops.
Sitting in the shadows
munching sugar pops.

He don’t mean to scare you
sometimes he behaves.
Even when it’s boo berry
or Count Chocula he craves.

He’s no threat to society
at a table or a booth.
He’s just a cereal killer
with a really bad sweet tooth.

From early dawn til after dusk
he’s never gonna stop.
You hear him in his kitchen
going snap crackle and pop!

Edwin C Hofert

Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

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I Have a Love Affair With Parenthesis

(don't tell anyone)

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016