She poke my skin so deep
With a needle but not ozz with blood
It numb my skin a little but safe I keep
After awhile a soothing felt I'm glad
Another many poke apart of deep in a dot
Leaving a mark unmatched but crazy faint
That made my ear a little crinzy hot
Afterward those numb collate a healing saint.
I told the setting sun to wait,
don’t sink yet with the day sedate,
the sky hadn’t splashed all hues ornate
for the curled cloud clumps to collate.
For the crimson sun floating slow,
flowers were yet to make scent flow.
As sun’s last rays staged sparkling show,
like the flaring beacon they’d glow.
Day’s shine sunset streams would divest,
birds from blue hadn’t returned to rest
after soaring flight to their nest,
before the dim dusk fell depressed.
I’d be home walking on path bright,
before the day turned into night.
Whether it be pernicious hailstorms,
Or be shiveringly cold snow.
It shall be in all forms,
And it comes by and goes in a blow.
Surprisingly it can be an exuberant reminiscence
Perhaps a past full of dolorous tear.
One can only see it in essence,
For it is neither far nor near.
Oh, The wonders it brings!
Deftly leaves on in disarray.
When it comes, it subtly clings,
Be it the month of june or the month of may.
May it very well be a place of fantasy,
Even a song so beautifully composed.
People erratically collate it with ecstasy,
By the virtue of emotions it grows.
Though the memories might not be real,
Mesmerizingly it blooms in me and you.
Sometimes it truly can be cordial,
And is delineated by very few.
Well, 'Tis merely a feeling,
So distantly called nostalgia.
As it may be endearing,
Precisely known as anemoia.
(KELOGBs)
Stop now, the challenge tag.
Your works are mere living snag
Bearing the giant cover flag.
Tracking down chances' wills
Exporting thy Awesome quills
Into many languages mills...
Someone using your head;
Imagine you lay your bed,
Another sleep tight dead.
In style comfortably-
To dreaming appreciably
Thy weird nights veritably.
As a smart team leader
Engaging virtual fender
Collate all engender.
Truly, it should be fine.
Hearts cheer gladly to assign
Bards' twine for tag's guideline.
Where all are for the same,
No one only dares to aim
Achieves without a team.
May thy labors be vain!
Who toys others' toils for gain.
Subscribing not their pains...
Let their lights become fright!
That with joy, sadness alight
To dwell faulty delight...
Design their vision's grave;
Timing piracy they crave...
Rare languages engrave!
Amen!!!
Stimulating her Emperor's savage
Aquisece defers demand of regal constraint
Furtive festivities provide passage
Into fecund gracing gait Autocracy ordained
Retreat from mastering insatiable masses
His thought voiding thaumaturge
Covers strident intellectual with molasses
Cater of paramour calms nerves
Unwound by compassionate exorbitance
Momentarily vulnerable assailant
Commits their heirs eventual inheritance
Renewed seasons abide nascent
Provisional Yazmin is his cleansing ocean
Advances invigorating strategy
Frequent fruitful visits denote her chosen
Monarchical surrender, sanctity
5th December
- Fertility -
(wily winding vines climbing collate grapes)
Creativeness...conformity...a pair
that go together just like night and day,
as one supports the other to declare
a unity and balance, that must say
there's planning in a poem to be great
with use of forms for rhythm, meter, rhyme;
to soften words, with music must collate,
tho some commit to flow, discarding chime.
There's planning in a work of art; no doubt
a painting, sculpture, shows a balanced form.
The curves and shapes, tho varied, even out...
free-flowing shapes to unity conform.
Creativeness...conformity...a team
for poets, sculptors, and each artist's dream.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Creative Conformity
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 11/11/2018
Conformity: meaning accord, balance, harmony, order, unity
THE STRANGE CASE OF THE PREPOSITION
The preposition is a peculiar case
No use on its own by itself with no function
It needs an attachment to have any place
Alone would decease, be due extreme unction
Now some words may act without others at hand
Such as Nouns as a labels and verbs as imperatives
E.g. LADIES or GENTLEMEN and Sit! or Stand!
Independent with neither associates nor relatives
But the preposition needs some things to relate
To connect the verb with a noun, phrase or clause
To bring them together unite and collate
In that it has a noble cause
In days of old when they spoke in tongues classical
The use of the preposition they would scorn
They had case endings for same purpose grammatical
So you could even say it need never have been born
But while you don't need 'to', 'of' or 'by' or 'with
When you've dative, genitive and ablative
Old prep does the job, should have respect accorded
And it brings words together so for that should be lauded
is you cute?
or is you mute?
they like when you mute
drowning in a salty pool and all your sugar dilute
a grin they never wanna see on your face
a sad clown they wanna paint on your face
fueling your energy with anger hoping you lose the race
when you crystal clear they try and try to darken your place
afraid that you might be a star tomorrow
they buy jealous for you whist when they broke love is what you borrow
a paper they treat you like
when it's rainy is when they leave your life
leaving you tearing
believing you fearing
a rainbow appears after a storm
the beauty that keeps you warm
though the crown gets heavy
head up never hesitate to carry
seeds germinate deep in the soil
where darkness and pressure rules remain moil
break open and liberate your leaves
while they thinking of how to steal your gold like thieves
be your own gardener
water yourself to be sweetener
with the late hours
do not hate showers
collate flowers
and collect powers
words golden spoken
words embolden as token
you're art
don't let them speak for your heart
The eye is not a camera taking shots
Our mind affects the aspect we perceive
And what it feels important it allots
Gives grace or hatred ,causes us to grieve.
When we are afraid ,we see the worst
We see disgrace or ruin as our fate
As if our self for horror has a thirst
So all the little details we collate
Yet when we love we see before us joy
The flowers sing, the birds dance in the air
We see no evil nor with hatred toy
All aspects of our world appear more fair.
We see not what is there,we see our self
To learn ,we must employ our own mind's wealth
I've been so busy lately
there's not been time to dwell,
among the poems and people,
the Poetry Soup clientele.
To the friends I've made, I apologize,
my excuse, I'm sure well known,
I've been writing and publishing a poetry book,
but the editing had me thrown.
I'm too anti to use MSWord,
they hijack everything written,
so I use Wordpad with all of its faults,
and suffer greatly when I get bitten.
To move a line down, to take up a gap,
is fraught with a terrible trait,
as everything moves, then days of despair,
as I sort and I try to collate.
A title appears black and bold on its own,
with the text shifted to the next page.
But bringing the text back to meet with its mate
is a practice that could bring on rage.
For everything below the text now has been moved,
upwards, confusing the order,
so its juggling and sweating and biting of nails,
red faced, as I try to re - order.
Laying out a book is a fearsome task
I could get it done by a pro,
But where's the fun in doing it so,
and the cost is a place not to go.
Call the Dalai Lama, Christ
Mohammed, and the Fates
Call the Druids, and the Rabbis
Call the angels, and their mates
Call the scientists and physicists
To measure and collate
Call psychologists who understand
And artists who create
Call the clowns who see things sideways
And the writers who narrate
Get them all around the table, midst
The wildly spinning plates
With biscuits, tea, and fairy cakes
And someone to translate
Doing icebreakers, and mindfulness
And role play, and debate
And let them come up with a miracle
This madness to abate
That will stop the Trump thing in his tracks
Or trip him on a trait
For Hilary’s annoying
And her shiny hardness grates
But Trump will make the USA
A horrid hell of hate
Let’s hope that this committee
Of all the good and great
Who wield the wisdom of the world
And spiritual weight
Can devise some cosmic strategy
The Trump thing to deflate
Before America becomes
The Disunited States
© Gail Foster 2016
This year leaps
Feisty moves hurl;
An extra day styles
~~~~~~~~~
Old condo visit
Caretaker friend smiles;
Tea and chit-chat
~~~~~~~~~
Monday dawn light
Cool breeze hints rain;
Passing clouds wet
~~~~~~~~~
Paperwork clutter
Desktop somewhat crowded;
Dazzling piles of something
~~~~~~~~~
Morning excursion
Procure meal packs;
Monday food fare
~~~~~~~~~
Wet pathway
Stray feats loiter;
Chinese kung-fu session
~~~~~~~~~
New signpost here
Heart-shape holes sketch;
Lee Kuan Yew's ghost lingers
~~~~~~~~~
Tembusu tree forlorn
Living memorial;
Once upon a great man
~~~~~~~~~
February 29th,
Once in four years;
Message sans passage
~~~~~~~~~
Here for a while
Fashion good cheer;
Share lovely touch
~~~~~~~~~
Leapfrog time
Collate leap year;
Add another day
~~~~~~~~~
Melancholy leaps
Sad evening dance;
Special 29th day oozes
~~~~~~~~~
Bills to pay
Prompt squeaky splice;
Abundance spreads
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
29February 2016
Singapore
I can't help it,
My pen stocked a bit.
Words slip in awful mind.
But no chance to say it loud.
To write each line in rhymes.
I will keep on making the same verse.
Until I find the proper way.
To witness my hands start a stroke.
'Til i fill an empty pad of poems.
I will believe in magic and forever.
I will see what eyes can't see.
I still love who I don't like.
I live the way I want to be.
Until emptiness filled with silence.
I keep eyes closed and listen,
To the sounds of rain pour in the ground.
Collate all words then give them life.
Busy days kill my existence.
But I still hold on my pen.
Spill the ink , tell what I want.
Fill each day of heavenly rhyme.
What are these phantom waves of thought
that bind me in embrace
as many minds across the globe
combine in cosmic space.
Whenever torn from their embrace
words wither and vacate
and once again I join life’s race
and concepts dissipate.
No muse to keep my mind alert
nor comfort my surcease
No outward flow of cryptic sense
my fervour to release.
But ever drawn back to this source
suffused within it’s worth
life’s race abates as passions soar
and visions see new birth.
The phantom waves of cosmic thought
born on the back of muse
collate to help articulate
the words that I then choose.
My ramblings then bought of this whole
and spilled in rhyme and verse
are scattered out on winds of time
their meanings to disperse.
Ivor G Davies
In a defining lust,
two souls entwine,
to join together,
where ecstacy bides,
and the temple divaricates,
thy love radiates,
their lust permiates,
as the emotions dictate,
the greatest passion resides,
where the temple furcates,
and those two hearts collate,
together forevermore!
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