Worst verse
The Circular Tyrant Above My Bed
The circular tyrant above my bed,
Ticks from dawn till I wish I was dead.
The clock laughs like a joker on the wall,
I can’t get rid of this clumsy fellow at all.
Hammer of time, smashing my dreams flat,
Pressure cooker tick-tock, imagine that!
Effervescent minutes, transcendental shock,
Turn my pizza dreams to wall clock block.
Chili sauce thoughts drip down the wall,
Why did some genius invent this thing at all?
It runs like a marathon, no rest, no pause,
My sleep is murdered, give applause, applause!
Two circular villas perched on the bony roots
No coat, no paint, only the scent of the bare skin
Restive camera instinctively released its telelens.
From nowhere, a tornado started wreaking havoc.
________________________
7 September 2025
The older
I get
the more
my hunger
for knowledge
grows
The more
my hunger
for knowledge
grows
the younger
— I get
(The New Room: March, 2025)
The round hole rolls on
Cursed by its inability
To accept the square peg
Perhaps it was fear of corners
For he had visited a square hole
And was mocked for his lack of angles
He learned later that the circle is complete
Fully accepting of all angles
Without favoring any
However, he is still unsure
Which slot Tab A should be inserted into
I
I arose with a grateful heart
Disciplined by the Scripture
I lack the smarts or the art
To fake it till I make it, Sister
II
When I have done daily devotions
Talked & prayed with passers by
And still feel sad, no explanations
I stop thinking: say prayers from memory
## I am grateful for any question, Victors today, as we whivstudy theology, ought to have an encouraging words. It follows as a post today: "I don't know how to pray."
Very often I
mess my thoughts up
As at the moment
I believe I am a circular tree
trying to offer shadow
An umbrella the birds
inside me asking for
but to no avail
Whenever I attempt at
the sun dims
I am afraid
if it's dimmer
All my dreams will die
No dreams no coffee cups
for the brown flour sticks
to sink
No further
I am running out of
my turquoise ink
Minds can draw dividing lines
in different natural spaces
sacred special uniting places
for secular powering chases.
Nature makes poles
and power polarity,
holes
and light circularity,
bright yangs
and dualdark yintegrity
Which spirited minds refine
and natural bodies define
but integrity is not image confined
by these cooperatively determined lines
back through universally wealthy loves
uniting healthy interweaving lives.
We make cognitive distinctions
between quiet emotive attractions
and loudly ejaculative extinctions,
where feelings find
finely balanced tipping points
between what whole has been
and who will yet consecutively
consequentially become
spaciously reappointed
As we undivided are
whom we have been
and much
much potentially more
Beyond our favorite
bottom line integrity
privileged score,
healing Earth sacred weal
Wealthing wikitheistic wellness
when we stop drawing only straight
unwavering lines,
monotheistic bipolarities
to addictively adore.
determinedly traveling around and around
traveling in a circular motion
doing the same thing daily
enjoying nothing
spinning her wheels
loudly so others can admire
no one does
Using so much energy
showing it proudly
accomplishing nothing new
stuck in a rut, that cycles like a turntable
no one suggests any more
she is determined
traveling no where
seeing the same results
never jumping off her unproductive cycle.
In the sunshine circular tales in queue
Silence sits on them to seek some pleasure
Sees how flies off from deep green leaves the dew
Running after blue scented looks of her
By the side of cascade I wash my face
With turquoise water from your deep dimples
Your rabbits and my rhymes are in the race
Their love casts shadows so pure and simple
In this red and green whispers where are you
Do you ply the swing where children jingle
Are blended in milky white clouds of blue
Where one evening I'll mingle with your hue
Now as the sun smiles and sips from soft blue
In these hills of mist, I indeed miss you
Our lives are just a circular path, the more we go forward the more we go backward. Sparing love to those who did not deserve, paying attention to things which were not worthy of, these were all we did in our lives.
The more we rush, the more tired we become, in the path which is truly tiresome.
In this circular path, my death will be. Let my shrine be luscious unlike my life. Let the end be better than the game let the good smell hug my name, let the flowers cover this shame.
Let all passers by, all their noses to slow down and smell the roses.
A Circular Affair With Care
Off my feet will eventually have dried,
God had helped me ond on Him relied;
Moisture needed,
So God I heeded;
Wanted feet wet and water He supplied.
Jim Horn
A slice of is figment is not stone carved melon nor mould of moon cake nor is it moaning marbles moving momentously. It is fascinating to note that steam rolling over headlines using big heavy wheels can induce a certain amount of jelly, carbonated drinks, hexagonal fishcakes, and seaweed to jump from the cupboard climb out of packets and sing very loudly in simultaneous song. The voice of a vortex is a visionary visualising vivarium vicariously vibrating vocabulary. And all the while the little letters let linking lemurs laugh. Lemurs laugh lovingly and love is not an itemised bill with googly eyes nor is it a meter reading a tome. So all hail in a pail for a puffing puffin is chewing on a boiled sweet today. Hahaha millionaire millipede moving many mice. Hahaha a pair of eagle faces in skintight shirts prancing. Xxxxx synchronisation z z z z z at seven thirty six a m on a dusty humid track of a bathroom floor with no b side eclipse effect. Z
Life is like a wheel-circular. Take your time and learn.
Time:day to night;
Seasons: autumn, summer, fall and winter;
sleeping to waking up;
working to resting;
living things to decomposition;
sowing to reaping;
buying and selling;
selling and buying;
unlearnind bad habits to learning good habits;
Making mistakes to rectifying mistakes;
giving and taking; loving and being loved;
circular that i despise and trying to avoid- argument with a fool.
life is like a wheel-circular. Take your time and learn.
Spinning icy rinks or cropless circles Does nature's beauty need an answer Ballerinas express as brooks burble Ancient songs to these eloquent dancers spiraling essence of the nonverbal’s Parasols parade question’s reversal
Nothing takes shape quite like a mushroom
Grown wild, formulaic with intricacies, cold
Curved in circularity, in old dark basements
In clarity it parts ways from other forms
Lines up with imagined aliens
Straight and narrow who bend reality
Around parameters reasonably light
A curvature that goes around dancing
Alone in the dark, a party of its own
One might imagine it with no clothes on
Created on 11/23/16 for - 241 any form, any topic max of 10 lines Poetry Contest Sponsored by- Brian Strand
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