Echoes of Spanish lullabies and magic chants
Resound in the tree tops of my head
That poetry you spoke with your eyes
When healing was miles and miles away
I awoke from a dream swirling on top
Of a lake
There was nothing to do but to drown
Into the fishes of thoughts reminiscent
Of your voice
The warmth of your skin tone
Tempting warmth of your mouth
Kissed with the sunlight I blushed as
I drowned deeper and deeper into
The lakes of my thoughts
Labyrinths undiscovered by the light
Of my Self
Where I buried you dead, where I
Buried you dead
Your body lied at the bottom of
Waters
The warmth of your eyes was gone
Your yellow skin rotted like life does
When Love leaves it behind.
They still want us to suffer as if we have left
The residue at the bottom
Maybe doubting we finished that cup yet
The drink wasn’t supposed to taste awesome
They keep treating us rather sternly
Even though we are still miles apart
Maybe happier than it was meant to be
Taking suffering as the high art
Of those who remember better than us
The garden with apple tree
But living each day as if it were our last
We’ve done all the drinks, haven’t we?
A culture is sustained by its traditions
And its quality is known by the fruits
Of those traditions.
We live in a time of change
When tradition is challenged and discarded
Simply for being traditional.
We don’t know what will replace it
We just want “hope and change”
With blind faith it’ll be better.
But that’s not the way civilizations are built
That is how they are destroyed.
When the bottom falls out
Morals are abandoned
Values are reversed
The baby is thrown out
And the old dirty bathwater consumed
As if nectar.
Then drunk on delusion
The revelers cry
When in the morning
The large, shiny Trojan Horse is empty
And it’s clear their life will never be the same.
(8/30/26)
I just wanna fly away
From the places
Things and people
That breaks me
Slow me down
Or give me a setback.
I believe one day
I'll get out of the dark
Back on my feet
Picking myself
From the bottom
Straight to the top.
I believe I'll get there
Where I want to be
If I keep moving towards
My direction relentlessly
With a solid mindset
Steadily focusing on my goals.
The ghastly gum
on the bottom
of my size nine shoes
Was put there by you~
A spit of spite;
A malicious verse,
A romantic curse~
Your love is slightly underwhelming
Like a supernova imploding!
Beware
The dogs of war,
I swore ~
Dreaded double-bubble
is my sword,
I will stick you to the freeway fast-lane
(You rundown Gandy Dancer),
And like Marvelous Medusa,
Turn you into languid stone
for eternity…
Or for ten enchanting days,
Whichever comes first!
Some penalty comes with calamity
Making you panic
Nemesis comes like crisis
Making you uncomfortable
You can't run from it
Because it's like shadow
That follows you everywhere.
It's like a fever, it makes you shiver
Making you want to run away
But you can never escape reality
The only antidote or antibiotics
Is facing it until you eliminate it
So you can regain your sanity and serenity.
All games have their rules and guidance
When you break those rules
You gonna face the penalty
Every act or action has a repercussion
You gonna face the nemesis when it's time
Be careful of the choices you make
Because you can't make them twice.
It’s when out the bottom drops
that life falters, halts and stops.
All before is now lesser,
dreams slip into the never.
It’s opening day (that’s for baseball);
The season’s officially here,
With fans set to flock to the ball fields
To watch, buying hot dogs and beer.
If life were compared to a ball game,
Each inning a decade or so,
We’d root for our home team, while knowing
The game’s sometimes boring and slow.
Yet other times, there is excitement
And we take the lead in the score,
Without any way of predicting
What action is waiting in store.
There’s a break in the 7th for stretching,
When the game’s cut as if by a knife,
Which is like when it’s time to retire
And confront what is left of your life.
Then the players get back in position,
The outcome still up in the air,
But there isn’t much time to the finish
And perhaps not much power to spare.
Now my husband’s a bit of a joker;
This baseball/life theme’s his, not mine,
Yet when he said we’re in the 9th inning*,
I knew I would pilfer that line.
*The title is what he actually said about
where we’re at, which cracked me up…
He
Who has
Feasted on
Free-flowing life
Knows no jealousy,
Unladen by guilt that
His intent is less than pure,
For his winnings are sufficient.
He has forged a life without questions,
Without a decade's hesitation
To consider whether his own
Paradise might justify
What he won't leave behind
When he is not spared
From the demise
His toiling
Will have
Earned.
a crowded glass bottom
sobbed empty on a vine
flowered look is stopping
pain's time for telling time
Lambrusco's weight mopping
a crowded glass bottom
circles make more circles
another one tastes you
metaphor lies shingled
its pass with my sinew
a crowded glass bottom
part they, my countenance
ruby shadow filling
falling through the chalice
it spills like heart would freak
a crowded glass bottom
when empty your bouquet
the dehydrating drink
in my dripping grape play,
the pressure of seeing
It’s a crooked slope
that leads to hell
and I’m riding it
Stance Goofy
Those Regulars
that believe they aren’t,
are way out in front
tripping over themselves
polishing and buffering the way
So I must be putting
the right foot forward
Besides, I also carry a mascot
and fail safe
It’s a goldfish in a bag
who never moves his left fin
He’s showing more zip
in his tail of recent
since I started feeding him
those highly energised
copper and black batteries
He won’t be going down
anytime soon
except maybe with
lead poisoning
I prefer lithium myself
it’s much lighter
and makes my collapse
easier to stomach
* * *
life wearing braces
whilst holding a bag of fish
be happy with me
By
David Kavanagh
As people
buy willingly
into
new ‘comforts’
The few
and empowered
will dish out
the crumbs
A new wizard
lies hidden
his curtain
a hard drive
Entrapped
in their keyboards
young minds
unbecome
The facts
merely factoids
of digital
suasion
In fated
consensus
their Google search
lies
While deep in
their consciousness
a legacy’s
waiting
A meltdown
away
when the internet
— dies
(Villanova Student Chat: February, 2026)
When at the bottom of the garden
pottering in the potting shed
plying those in need of weeding or reseeding
then putting all the plants to bed
she spotted and picked up a flower pot
which seemed to say 'Forget-me-not'
but as it looked somewhat more forlorn
she promptly unearthed filled and began
to sprinkle a little H2O here and there
with her trusty old watering can
altho' some clearly may have been seen to droop
and a few of the flora nearly fade away
it did the trick and in the nick of time
she brought them back and bravely saved the day
Can I reach the bottom of the ocean?
Do I try and dive,
Or is it too deep?
Will fear rise me back to the surface?
Do I plunge back to the unknown,
Listening to the waves above me,
Seeing the stars shimmer beneath.
Where is the bottom of the ocean?
Can I reach it? Do I dare to try?
Do I cry for help through the storm?
Do I call a friend amidst the chaos?
Where is the bottom of my ocean?
Once I find it, I will let you know…
Will you please be so kind as to explain why,
gentlemen of your ilk or, much as you,
on first meeting, soon after greeting,
or within a conversation or two,
to those like me, or such as I,
feel the need, to bring up to speed,
and are compelled to dwell on and extol,
their personal proclivities, propensities,
predilections, predispositions,
inclinations and tendencies?
Come what may, we are who we are, it is what it is,
whereby, we have no say and, by all means,
it's preordained, hereditary, chance or happenstance,
and, as does diarrhoea, runs in the genes.
For, as to the preferences of others,
I must admit, be aware, I don't care one little bit,
and for their penchants, not a lot, in fact, nary a single jot,
altho', I wish they wouldn't swish, as they look silly doing it.
But, in the end, they may tend to extend,
or rise to the occasion,
and participate in the bringing of
brotherly love to those of their persuasion.
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.