Neon and noise.
Night-world horrors.
Whose reflections, whose echoes
Showed not, nor shook
Its panes and doors.
Conscience-singeing.
Waywardly flapped.
Strange appeal! Once sought but through
A moonlight kiss.
A round dance. Clapped.
The sky was a bruised and swollen purple,
bursting open above the slick asphalt.
While all behind me breathed its sour, familiar violence,
I bolted out into the sudden, roaring flood.
The rain was the only thing that ever touched my bare skin
without wanting to leave a mark.
It struck my shoulders like a thousand cold, pin-prick needles,
washing off the stale terror,
drowning out the sudden screams that lived in and around me.
I slammed my canvas boots into the black mirrors of the street,
a wild, breathless grin ripping open my face.
Murky, engine-slicked water exploded upward,
slapping my knees, soaking through my thin denim.
Every heavy splash was a deliberate riot -
I spun in chaotic circles, throwing my head back,
tasting the storm, a creature pure and unpunished.
It was a rare, ecstatic madness to just be small and playing.
And no one came out to seize my wrists.
No voice rose to call me filthy, or foolish, or loud.
The thunder clapped, but it asked for no apology.
For ten exquisite minutes, my laughter outran the noise,
the storm let me exist at my full, unsoftened volume,
and the water held me without demanding I break.
It was nearly without sound,
Save a pine-brushed mountain breeze
When I rose beneath fog's blanket
And stepped lightly through the trees.
In reverence of the aura there
Subdued in temperance;
Without a word, just in tears
I offered holy reverence.
Before me in this quiet place
A lake, in still perfection,
Lay without the slightest wave;
Heaven's mirror gave reflection.
As I gazed into the glassy lake
My soul and spirit swooned
With God's creation holding me
He healed my hidden wounds.
No greater ambiance nor scene
Has since renewed my core.
I found the Prince of Peace that morn
On a pristine mountain shore.
Next, the sun began to rise
And the Quakies clapped their hands
Creation birthed a brand-new day
And I began to understand:
God is a God of perfect peace
Who in countless ways can bless
Whether heaven sent or by a stream
He gives the seeker rest.
If your world has left you wounded,
"Come unto Me, sons and daughters"
God offers early morning grace
To bless beside still waters.
Psalms 23: 2 (KJV) “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside still waters.”
In Arabian singsong, the dancer began
Searching for tempo in desert sands
Torso twisting and turning to the rhythm of time
With a toss of her head and a shake of her mane
Tambourines rang, spectators clapped
the dancer transformed, shot into his lap
Wriggling her belly and lighting his fire
she struggled to control her desire…
… At the end of the night, slumped over, frail, spent
too many years barely paying the rent
as Chairman Fauch Xi smugly took the stand
the giant red panda nervously clapped
his responses were briefer
than was Adam's tiny fig leaf
a 5th of silence can be a snake in the grass.
Notorious Ned, a fluffy Santa bird was in a mood
not jovial or joyful, more depressed, dour and crude
He had gotten up on the wrong side of the nest
his science teacher gave him a surprise test
his day was going downhill, he wanted a nap
he had a solo at school and not a single bird clapped
but they can’t clap, they have feathers, his mother said
He was irritated with her too, in a bad mood this Ned.
Darkness whisks the egg white strands
into the yellow yolk glob.
Time claws its way
wallowing through a quagmire
of booze, ooze and bog-breath delays.
"I'm Late, I'm Late!"
"Who Spake?"
"Who's seen better Ways?"
Feet spread strangely,
disengage and untangle.
Interlocking with toe taps
pin-pointed to barre-
laughing at those old elbows and knees.
The gasp of old shadows
lurking in clouds
dispels the carnival
confetti spaghetti charade,
to yell:
"Joie de Vivre!
"What the hell!"
"Is all this stuff about?"
Silence lies petrified
by a pillar of Babel-borne salt
outside of the window.
It can't get out of bed.
“I’m fine! OK!"
"I'm laying in"
"Playing dead!"
Each contradiction
spoke with impeccable diction.
Intonation interlaced;
with poise and puréed perfection,
personified.
It brought applause, clapped with one hand
behind the other,
a contra-counterpart.
A toot toot touche,
bowing to cheers
from both ways.
They played "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" at the nursing home
People in their eighties clapped and sang along.
I paused nearby and listened before proceeding on my way
It was a ray of sun in a cloudy dismal day.
They played "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" when the POWs came home
Vietnam behind them, the eagle had long flown
From 'hell in session' to a divided land
They deserved our thanks, so strike up the eighties band.
(Chorus)
Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
It's been many years, but heart's stay free
The world is getting smaller, friends have come and gone
Sometimes a song can help a weary soul hold on.
They played "tie a yellow ribbon' for freedom in Hong Kong
Funny how a romance tune became a protest song.
We've already forgotten those romantics in the street
A song can't beat a rifle, no matter how upbeat.
They played "tie a yellow ribbon" when our hostages came home
Women wore one in the Civil War when the cavalry was gone
Home is where the heart is, and if oldsters can laugh and share
The rest of us should regroup and try to self-repair.
Today I was asked to write a poem
about a lady who had spun some dog hair to make a scarf
When you read this unique story
I hope you'll get a jolly belly laugh
Not well washed this scarf that she was wearing
got wet gave off a doggy smell
It happened in the rain while she was walking down the street
All the local male dogs stopped !! In unison clapped their paws
Hooray! At last !!! We've found a bhitch on heat
Holy smoke she shrieked what am I gonna do
in desperation she began to run
Thirty grinning dogs behind her
were having so much fun
Now the moral of this story
just imagine this epic scene
If you're gonna spin with dog hair
make sure it's bloody clean
Since writing this poem my mind is quite agog
Can charge a man with buggery can buy a bastard file can cut my bloody finger
But I had to find a way around how to describe a female dog
(the bhitch she just delivered a litter of six pups. Surprise! surprise !. She was a victim of deletion)
Footnote this is a true story with a wee bit of poetic licence
For All My Firsts
Kevin Davis 2024
You gave me my first kiss,
soft as a feather light.
You gave me my first hug,
that made the world feel right.
You dried away my teardrops,
you chased away my fears.
You showed me how to giggle,
and smiled between my tears.
You knew just when I needed
a cuddle or a song.
You taught me to be gentle,
you taught me right from wrong.
You cheered for all my first steps,
you clapped for all my tries.
You helped me find my courage,
and dream up to the skies.
For every “first” I’ve ever had,
from morning until night—
It’s always you, dear Mom,
who made my world so bright.
I'm self-centured,
I'm seeking attention,
and I'm still writing on,
darlings i'm a bright sinner,
but Why wouldn't I after everything,
after all my sacrifices and sitting around,
allowing myself to be put down and mocked,
I want what I deserve rightfully as a supporting watcher,
I clapped and cheered,
I pushed and encouraged,
smiling with gritted teeth in silence,
but when I asked for just a little support,
all I was given a glance and faced with a back,
the backs of EVERYONE I pushed on and clapped for,
but when I asked for the same All I had were a few numbers,
you wanna know why I'm greedy,
you wanna know why I'm self centered,
You wanna know why I want to shine brighter,
BECAUSE ITS MY RIGHTFUL PLACE.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
free speech is not to say what you think ~ said the blind man with a wry wink
the deaf guy smiled as if it was wise ~ he could do morse code with his eyes
a dumb man clapped sending out shockwaves ~ no idea we’re mortal slaves
the mind reader thought he could see through ~ in truth neither he has a clue
By
David Kavanagh
Inside a big dome...
A speaker, facing a large group of people, spoke about "life." The audience was pleased and clapped so loud. One visitor just walked in and asked, "Is this heaven???!!! It's too hot in here and very dark too. I can hear and feel voices and spirits, but I can't see you all..."
The speaker heard the visitor asking and said, "You are in the wrong place dude!"
(Dreaming is the extension of human thinking, but not all dreams match/picture one's thinking.)
sheer confidence oozed out of the queen of red
her enemies cowered, some slunk off in dread
her super power abilities were known throughout the land
She could throw lightning bolts out of her right hand.
What is the deal? She asked the wizard of mean.
He scurried away like a rat, fleeing from this queen.
Two other villains discussed how to take her on.
I’ll distract her, said a gargoyle named Simple Don.
Simple Don got tossed sixty-two feet up in a tree.
He screeched and wailed, for she had torn up his knee.
The queen of red had skin that began developing red hearts.
Like symmetrical, tattoos, flashing about two inches apart.
What is she doing now? An evil ogre wondered, scared to death.
Before he could get away, she renamed him Dead Man Seth.
He wailed and screamed, getting away, with both of his ears.
As he left the forest, the good animals clapped with cheers.
Moral of this story is to always keep hope from the start.
For inside of you may reside a Queen of Hearts.
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
Often strangers clap louder for you
Than people you thought you knew
This is the mark of my own people
Many tell you that they want to see you grow
But many of them enjoy seeing you when you are at a low!
Smile for the haters
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
Today frenemies exist
Snakes in the grass that’s ready to bite
Jealousy and resentment run so deep
But you must keep the faith
Frenemies only know gossip
But they cannot stop the victory that belongs to you!
They will try to damage your story
Hoping they can hold on to their glory
They often live in a fake reality
But darkness does not live forever!
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
There is nothing new under the sun
This we have seen since the beginning of time!
Many tell you that they want to see you grow
But many of them enjoy seeing you when you are at a low
Often strangers clap louder for you
Than people you thought you knew
Smile for the haters
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
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.