An epitaph
A GRE
Oggie the ogre spent weeks on a GRE
He sent pirates ask mutes in the frothing sea
So while we ate dinner Oggie did see
A willowy woman sent out to sea
She asked of ripe fruit but Oggie remiss
Forgot that true sailors set sail for the lobster bisque
I browsed the encyclopedia,
from "aardvark" on to "algebra",
then to "infinity" and "lobster bisque"...
Hey, this one needs an asterisk:
"* Love - this is what it's all about.
It's easy to fall in, hard to get out."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence thick
smothers midnight’s breath
shapes shift slow, unseen
streetlight hums wordless bisque hymns
bus brakes sigh
bus halts, waits
exhaust fumes taste sharp
wipers thwick-thwack-thwoc
blades clearing what eyes can not
squeak. blink. gone.
Soupers as lovers unite, with spoons and bowls held high,
All soups from broths to chunky chowders, they'll try.
Making steamy affairs in poems that burn and delight,
To fill the world with soup, that's their plight!
With spoons like scepters, ladles toppled full for the fight,
They struggle as wordsmiths with all their might!
Adding chillies, spices and herbs, to en-flame the brew,
They take aim with stakes to drive into apathy's stew.
So here’s to all soupers, lovers of muse, noble and true,
As they dish up their broths, lost souls, to bring to,
With their bouillon and bisque, mulligatawny and minestrone.
Let's say bon aperitif to them all, with a hoot, yippee and whoopee!
On the Eve of St Orwell's Day
The squaw woman brought truth to bare
In scripted pose and statuary dish
A recipe changed from Bollusk to bisque
And the night crept up like Jupiter
A false Eden in the sky way main
To porridge or to bed
The urchin s running unkempt and bold
With prophetic dreams untold
Except in murmuring drag
Their nightly secrets keep
The recipe will in the morning come
Or porridge be damned with my spoon
I'll spoon your sugar until you sweet
Come nether or come neat
A bisque sun on the windowsill, the early light smells of marigolds.
Beyond, the garden is as usual, a haven for cracked clay pots,
after windy nights there are yet more broken terracotta options.
Breakfast and the Broadwood table is salted and buttery.
Blue and white dishes, like fledglings, wait to be fed.
I sense soccer moms hurrying their ducklings along.
Egg sandwiches will spontaneously appear on the hour.
Nearby, bushy shrubs sup on their own green tealeaves.
I like it here, where groundhogs whistle in the cabbage patch.
Spreading blueberry jam, wondering what kind of man I am,
shrugging the thought away.
There you are-
A favored photograph
Framed upon the smooth, bisque-colored door
Of our Kenmore refrigerator
Centered-
Fastened in prominence by
Blue and yellow star-shaped magnets with
"Importance" inscribed upon each corner.
You-
A glossy-coated, eight and one-half inch
By ten and one-half inch
Image,
Created by thousands of colored
Pin-point dots:
Red, blue, white, black, and green-
A brilliant projection of
Loyalty and trust,
Longing and security,
Love and faithfulness.
There you are-
a single moment in the life of a
Small, sad, sleeping boy laying on his dog.
A captured glimpse of true love.
Bouncy bountiful blustery buxom Babs
Brought Bossy Bonnie beautiful blueberries
Bonnie baked Babs’ brother blueberry bisque
Bashful Barry bet Babs that Bossy Bonnie believed
Barry could become her beleaguered boyfriend
Babs bellowed beautifully, because she believed it too.
There you are-
A favored photo
Framed upon the smooth, bisque-colored door
Of our Kenmore refrigerator.
Centered,
Fastened in prominence by
Blue and yellow star-shaped magnets
"Importance" inscribed upon each corner.
There you are-
A glossy-coated, eight and one half inch by ten and one half inch image,
Created by thousands of colored pin-dots,
Magenta, cyan, yellow, black and gray,
Forming
A brilliant projection of
Loyalty and trust,
Longing and security
A captured glimpse of contentment.
There you are-
A single moment in the life of a
Small boy and his dog.
Her gentle features, delicate
A porcelain delight
Approaching bisque perfection
She shimmers in the night
The body of a mythic god
The suppleness of rose
If there be just one little thing
it’s found in sweet repose
She snores, oh yes, she snores
When she is blowin’ Z’s
The thunder of a lumberjack
I would compare to these
The rafter’s will begin to shake,
The bed shifts high and low
She sucks the air enough to move
The curtains to and fro
But when she wakes, a Barbie doll
Arrives to greet the dawn
I never wait around to see
What happens, should she yawn!
Orange is the new Autumn,
and my pumpkin spice candle.
First flicker in the stovebox,
stick match on the mantle.
Warm bisque on the burner
canning jars off the shelf,
crooked stack of split maple,
unstacking itself.
Leaves whistle past the garden
through tomato stake tombs,
now a chicken wired graveyard
of yellow squash bones.
Sun`s backing to the door
holding all the summer days,
dealing out darkness,
8 months until May.
Soon the hills will be Auburn,
the sky sullen gray,
my 70th winter,
life is good
think i`ll stay.
Otter
By Caroline
I am an otter.
I swim in the water
Cactus
By Caroline
the humble cactus
stands tall over the desert
casts a long shadow
Spring Rhymes
By Caroline
the mighty breezes
moves the mighty treeses
Evil Poem
By Caroline
"Tested On Algebra"
This "poem" is really bad
In fact, it is kind of sad
If this poem was a physical object, I would impale it with a spike
This poem's author can't even ride a bike
Soup
By Lucas
A culmination of flavors, combined into one,
Chowder, French onion, chicken noodle galore, just some examples of soup, but wait...
There’s more!
Minestrone, Cream of Mushroom, Split pea, and bisque,
Soup is simply an amazing dish.
See Maddi Zapinski's PoetrySoup Page for her poems, as well.
Brassy Barry’s boastful bumbling Brana Bull
Badgered Billy’s bashful buffoonish Baboon
Into baking a boisterous Blackberry Bisque
Beyond bunking, Barry’s brave babysitter
boldly bellowed brashly.
Bonafide bamboozlement boasted Brana Bull’s bed buddies.
Beyond bothersome boneheads, Billy Baboon’s buzzards bawled
Baboon’s beautiful baked bonne bouch betwixed buddies and beasts
beautifully, bumping boastful Brassy Barry’s beliefs, which bumbled
on beyond the brink of believability boulder.
Hard disk,
My bisque.
Doc files,
Spread miles.
Drum Tunes,
Spiked dunes.
Surf gem,
Turf mem.
Tough chat,
Loved stat.
Pict list,
Deft mist.
Top space,
Set face.
I, a salty scarecrow, roam the shoreline
The moon melts soft like butter on the reach
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
While dropping clams to split upon the beach
The moon melts soft like butter on the reach
Thus drizzling heaven's hem with Hollandaise
While dropping clams to split upon the beach
The giggling gulls high-dive the dawning haze
Thus drizzling heaven's hem with Hollandaise
The bisque horizon christens bright, the morn
The giggling gulls high-dive the dawning haze
Oh such as this, should all good days be born
The bisque horizon christens bright, the morn
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine
Oh such as this, should all good days be born
I, a salty scarecrow ... roam the shoreline.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Seagulls" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
Required line: "Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine"
( Syllables = 10 per line, counted at HowManySyllables.com )
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.