You love African violets.
It was a surprise then
when you confessed a passion
for gladioli,
I will learn to live with them.
We bring home bunches from Walmart,
vivid, over-the-top floral giraffes.
They dwarf everything in the apartment,
but do provide shade
for the African violets.
You love African violets.
It was a surprise then
when you confessed a passion
for Gladioli.
We bring home thickets of them
vivid, over-the-top floral giraffes.
They dwarf everything in the apartment,
I have a new appreciation for the word 'galore',
they provide shade for the African violets.
You love African violets.
It was a surprise then
when you confessed a passion
for gladioli,
(I will learn to live with them).
We bring home bunches from Walmart
-vivid, over-the-top floral giraffes.
They dwarf everything in the apartment,
but do provide shade
for the African violets.
In less than a year, hundreds of poems have poured out of me.
I thought I'd drown in my tears, but I began to swim in poetry.
When the ink touches the pad I'm so glad to feel the spiritual release.
I address the worry and stress which brings me emotional peace.
As the couplets formulate, I escape into a world that is all mine.
Like a bomb ready to detonate, I try and be an explosive Poetic Einstein!
My mind explores, opening unknown doors, which other's may find very bizarre.
Self-confessed, a poet possessed, and from the Heaven's came a fallen star.
A dent in the earth, A poet rebirth, and the speed of my pen will only increase.
So the poetry in me, emerges from obscurity, demanding my spiritual release!
*Written for Constance contest "What is my theme"
My theme is "Spiritual Strength" (which is in my poetry)
(This is a fictional poem)
My friend just confessed a crime to me.
It's untelling what else he'll do if he goes free.
What he did was evil and vile.
He said that he killed a six year old child.
He thinks I'll keep it to myself but I'm going to turn him in.
I have to stop him before he kills again.
I just told him that I'm going to call the police but he's doing something that I
didn't figure.
He's pointing a gun at me and he's about to pull the trigger.
I just knocked him out with three karate chops.
I got his gun and now I'm going to call the cops.
He had me fooled, I didn't know that I had a killer for a friend.
His days of killing are at an end.
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.