Best Writing Poetry
WRITING
when other souls
are conceiving
in their dreams
my breath
gives birth
at midnight
my soul
only knows
to labour
to push
to birth
alone
~ Eshe Benson
Alas, I shall never be a Shakespeare, that's for sure.
I'm content to plug along and just remain obscure.
Some folks boast about the number of poems they concoct,
But the quality of their writes often leave me shocked!
Rather than quantity I truly strive for quality in my verse,
Hoping to enrich my readers, yet adding nothing to my purse.
If I have any poetic talent at all, I give Him all the thanks,
And am very content to remain in the anonymous ranks.
I write not for glory but to leave a legacy for my kith and kin.
If I can elicit emotions in my verse I'll remain content within.
When my poetical journey is o'er this can be etched upon my stone:
"Here lies a passionate poet who was content to be unknown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
If I but had the basic raw nerve and wit
I would show a few folks how to do it:
“Write a line or two with good rhythm and rhyme”
On Poetry Soup, however, that would be a crime!
We have some folks who write marvelous gibberish
If I may say, but, of course, I’m being somewhat devilish;
On the other hand, I have tried to understand their verse
Reading them frequently, they’ve gotten worse and worse!
Interestingly, they are convinced they write like William Shakespeare,
But truth is, nothing about their poorly-written, so-called, poetry is clear,
Misspellings, poor syntax, and lack of a discernible theme
Well, now, they make me throw up my hands and scream!
May I suggest, if you are remotely caring, get up to speed
Please, take time to read some great master poets, indeed!
This is a poetry site, or so I have been led to believe
And, with effort, writing good lines is easy to achieve.
Tossing random words onto a page willy-nilly
And calling it poetry, is simply plain silly!
Written December 27, 2021
60th on Poetry Soup's BEST NEW POEMS LIST
January 26, 2022
" . . . I experience the ultimate thrill.
When all the noises around me are still."
Quote by _L Milton Hankins (1941-2022)
In memory of Milt who loved the Pantoum form.
___________________
I have been writing stories and poems since a young girl,
writing about my cats, teddy bears, my dolls and flowers;
love making my words fly and swirl, and twirl, whirl and unfurl,
in my cozy attic room- I could write my words for hours.
Writing about my cats, teddy bears, my dolls and flowers,
though, as I got older, I wrote deep poems and stories;
in my cozy attic room- I could write my words for hours,
writing of my grief, my life, thoughts- in all categories.
Though, as I got older, I wrote deep poems and stories,
my poetry is often sad messages to the world;
writing of my grief, my life, thoughts - in all categories,
like lost leaves fluttering wildly in the wind my words have whorled.
My poetry is often sad messages to the world,
and words pour out from my pen as a song or a prayer;
like lost leaves fluttering wildly in the wind my words have whorled,
and often nature poems and funny poems ... I share.
And words pour out from my pen as a song or a prayer,
love making my words fly and swirl, and twirl, whirl and unfurl;
and often nature poems and funny poems ... I share,
I have been writing stories and poems since a young girl.
______________________
November 28, 2022
Poetry/Pantoum/Writing Poetry For Milton
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1505-155-28
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
I dedicate this Pantoum in honor of my poetic friend
Lewis Milton Hankins
1941- 2022
Written for the Premiere contest, Pantoum on Writing
sponsor, L MILTON HANKINS,
This is a contest that will never be judged as
Milton, passed away on December 22, 2022
Submitted to the Premiere contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon, Mile 24
(poems dedicated to the Memory of L Milton Hankins)
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 01/22/2023
Second Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, 2022 Marathon Qualifiers Final Placement
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 03/04/2023
Twelve Place
I am not terribly bright
I simply like a good write
so that's how it goes
no skin off my nose
I hope I don't cause a fright
~
Paper and pen in my hand
Poems begin as I planned
They go their own way
I pound them like clay
With each one I make my stand
~
Rhymes that always have meter
They act a whole lot sweeter
They love being voiced
Each of them I hoist
Inside til I complete her
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
Writing poetry is like a song from your soul,
it is an unspoken message to the world;
a fragment of your heart, a glimpse, a keyhole,
that from your pen words pour and unfurl.
Sometimes, the theme will pick us out of the blue,
maybe an abandoned house will be our inspiration;
and our words will fall on paper raw and true,
often the poem will be inspired by a lovely quotation.
Perhaps, a past sad experience must be spilled and told,
full of deep emotions and tears that we need to share;
of death, grief, sadness, love that will quietly unfold,
maybe, it will be to God above ... as a prayer.
Sometimes, a landscape, the ocean, a bird, a person,
anything that floats in our mind and wants release really;
maybe the rain, the snow, a flower, an excursion,
maybe, inspired by music or something awful and scary
But, to be honest ... I love sharing in poetry my life,
and if my past sorrows can help a lost soul cope;
a someone ,who has also been stabbed by life's knife,
if my words can help them and be that climbing rope;
Then, I am happy and complete,
for writing is my heartbeat ...
__________________________
November 19, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Oh, Writing Poetry
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1503-412-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Poetry Is A Life-Cherishing Force
sponsor, Sotto Poet, Judged 12/01/2022
First Place
Poet 2 poet
We all have different writing styles, and we
May not all have grace and poise.
But when we do write, it’s all to make some noise.
We want to be recognized by the co-poets
All fair and true.
For writing our poetry is what we all like to do.
So I welcome all my co-poets who take this beautiful ride
And all their dreams and visions, they do find.
We do not only write what comes into our minds
But we write from the heart
And this is where poetry gets its start.
So continue to write all that you see and feel
Because these are human emotions.
That from us, no one can steal.
WELCOME ABOARD THIS TRAIN OF POETRY.
The writer in me, wants you to know that she writes to just be
She seldom writes to please
Or appease
All she writes for is to be
In writing to be
She creates a space within her that allows
her to become a writer that she was meant to be
The writer in me, wants you to know that she barely writes for accreditation
She does not know much about it
Or care for it
She cares about the space in which she wants to be
In writing, she finds joy and peace
And liberation of a special kind that writers perhaps need
Writers are freedom fighters I believe now
They fight for a cause
That have no hope at all
So what is the cause I am fighting for
I still don’t know
Perhaps it will emerge in tiny bits here and there
The writer in me will find one very soon
For now, the writer in me
Just writes to be.
I
will be
creating
a nonet poem
the reverse format
will be my example
in forty-five syllables
this line will have eight syllables
and the final line, nine syllables.
I have hushed voices in my head
they say the things I’ve always said
they echo loudly thus keeping me
from finding my own calm poetry.
I need respite from all of this
can’t even find my happiness
I know he’s crying hiding pain
haunting me again and again.
Torturing me they suffocate
my joy I’ve lost and subjugate
a thousand voices so unclear
escaping reality and their fear.
A few sweet things keep me sane
I return to them again and again
to drink their joy and to taste
the essence of them but in haste.
Fearing majesty just might go
and back to hell my soul to sow
the thoughts that fuel my misery
swallow me whole indiscriminately.
I have these voices in my head
from all the things I’ve ever said
funny though there does still reign
joyous feelings in my heart remain.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
Your heart has a yearning
And a burning desire
To share what you’re learning
Like voices of a choir
Small pieces of paper
With the things you have thought
A con or a caper
How the villain was caught
No time is a wrong time
If you wake up at night
With a thought of a rhyme
Then you know you must write
Watching movies with you
Your friends do not enjoy
For you catch every clue
And discern every ploy
And time seems to fly by
When you sit down to write
With that glint in your eye
There is no end in sight
You longed for the teacher
To ask each for a story
You wrote down your feature
Of our flag called, “Old Glory”
Friends with the dictionary
Filled with word after word
To some it seemed scary
When the big words they heard
But not to the writer
You knew you’d become
A reader delighter
You knew you’d please some
So write on forever
As your stories you tell
A writer so clever
Right inside you doth dwell
I sat under a tree somewhere in Nebraska
after a late-night drive in a storm to here
my assignment. Nestled in the sandhills
the morning whispered. In silence I stayed
by a lake where a drive ended. The sun
reflected off a pond, my reflections
to begin the day. Trees and grasses sprouted
from sand fed by underground streams.
A soft breeze whispered, too. I closed
my eyes. Serenity. Pioneers had given their lives
to discover this land. It was mine for now.
I discovered the land for myself. A white cabin
near me was quiet, whether abandoned or not
it didn’t matter. I embraced the silence. Lost
in time. I felt in my mind a new poem form
the words I longed to share when I’d get
back home. Lines broke and found new lines.
Stanzas white spaces moments of silence
always said more than I could say as I gazed
at clouds drifting through open skies. A poem
or two I could take home with me on the long drive.
I had to admit I never knew what I would find.
Lifted from somewhere, reference for attribution lost:
"If there is any characteristic which separates poets
from writers of fiction, it is their particular fascination
with words in themselves. Poetry is normally written
more slowly, more painstakingly than fiction and the
finished work is intended for careful, repeated reading.
It is natural for the poet to place a special emphasis
on the overtones, the rhythmical effect, and the sound
of words."
I shuffle papers, reread
what I have written long ago --
impelled now by the urge to say
something, not necessarily new,
but perhaps of minimal importance
and imbued with some logical meaning --
structured and stated in an "artistic"
and pleasing style.
Those thoughts, though, must convey
some meaning, cannot be
(or should not be) empty babble.
And ponderous subjects
are of little interest.
So, what makes poetic
expression pleasing,
or illuminating?
It begins with clarity of thought
with precision of expression;
it depends upon
having something to say
that is worth saying.
~Writing Poetry~
(Alliance Acrostic)
W-hen I write just let my imagination soar n' sometimes to places unknown this way I go
R-emembering that the sky is the limit and that writing is wonderful
I-ndeed, I just love it when I get inspired
T-ensions and problems seem just disappear when I am writing all my poetry
I-t gives me joy to write in many styles
N-aturally for me writing is fun, keeps me alive
G-od is great! Gave it to me.
P-oetry is like a song, enlivens and unburdens my soul
O-ver anything I can write. Poetry is a wonderful gift
E-njoy poetry
T-ry to write in different styles and forms.You'll see how much fun you can have too
R-ead poetry and as many books you can and just write a lot everyday too
Y-ou can have lots of fun n' be happy you can write better,the more that you practice it everyday.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
January.20.2017
The "Alliance Acrostic" is a poetry form or style, that was created by Patricia Ann Farnsworth - Simpson, on 20.7.2010.
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
WRITING POETRY WITHOUT RULES*
I thought I'd write some poetry
Just for the fun that it would be.
So I went to the web to see
what it said
about how to write poems just for me.
I ran into words like iambic and tercet
and other ones that I had never met.
There was even a thing called a quatrain
that confused and corrupted my brain.
Stanzas are neat if they get the right beat
with the meter which I'd no doubt delete.
You also have tetrameter and pentameter
which are terms I don't think are neat.
Long ago I did write in rhyme
but just to friends who didn't mind.
I'd write some limericks or lyrics to sing
that were not important
and didn't mean a thing.
But as I write now and look into how
I find myself stymied by words to allow.
I read such things as trochee
and anapest and even dactyl.
They are words I just read
and don't really feel.
Those words belong to meter,
a measure in feet.
With stresses on heavy or light
and then they repeat.
They do form the meter
which makes the poem complete.
I may just give up and write more in prose
My friends will give thanks and I'd smell like a rose.
But I do get such joy with the lines in a verse
So I'll just continue, and the poems I'll disperse.
I could go further and write in free verse,
which doesn't make sense
and just makes it worse.
Free verse would just boggle my mind.
It really won't matter
what rules I would shatter
as long as I make the words rhyme.
* I actually learned all the technical poetry terms as an English major in college. This is just a satire on their usage and the way I enjoy poetry.