Don’t raise the white flag
when sly boots ennui sneaks in
stoic mould is key
life is that intriguing quest
a conjugated footpath
SEEING FROM THE OTHER SIDE
For years, one has entertained the notion
That nations and cultures can always mix
There are customs and appearances, true
Some might close their eyes, as many do
Also their ears, as language can play tricks
Races no longer separated by any ocean
Yet integration recalibrates one’s identity
More for others to feel safe and sound
Yet difference is surely to be celebrated
Whether or not all verbs are conjugated
But gentle friction is healthy when around
Seeing people as they are and want to be
Step by step, perhaps talk over the fence
But all be aware, there’s no time to sleep
The pace at which such acceptance grows
It takes many decades, as one who knows
National cultural norms are buried deep
There is no gain in perpetuating ignorance
Learning and adjustment aren’t just words
It needs the occasional slap in the face
To recognise what passes for normality
But on further thought, is quite arbitrary
Turning away disinterested, is a disgrace
Embrace the new, mix whey with curds
Which social travail must we suffer
Food banks and rampant inflation
Hunger and energy poverty
go hand in hand
We have our Hitler beasts again
Putin in the Ukraine
and discordant Politicians
Chameleon Boris
and unscripted budget Liz Truss
and a PM who cant come clean on his GP
The world is knotted
El Nino with blurry eyes
Plays havoc
A repeat Summer Scorcher
Greenhouse accidents
Mother Nature cooking Earth on a spit
We live in a conjugated World
where Hunger chases its own tail
and inflation eats our living standards
There have never been a day
as dark as yours
There have never been a night
as sleepless as yours
Let those who mourn mourn aloud
For this is a time to cry
Let those who weep weep aloud
Till their voice are dried
I heard some strangers killed your sons
I heard your daughters are been raped
I heard they've blackened your suns
And left you in a sticky mud of pain
I heard your husbands did not return
Since they went to their farms
I heard your wives were been stabbed
Trying to save their own yams
I heard you died for cows to live
Conjugated into a shell of death
I heard for a single cow's head
Nine or ten of you go down the earth
Yet I heard your were beaten by a stick
I wonder what stick it could be
Oh! its the new herdsmen sticks
That has bullets in it
Curse be the strangers that killed you
Prophetically I speak
Why have they chosen to kill you
Rhetorically it seems
You keep me grounded
to the soil of my soul
reminding me again
that my words matter
that they help scatter
misconceptions
making connections
pathways to inner places
leaving conjugated traces
of emotional bleeds
and epiphanies
you keep me grounded
when nothing pulls me back
and I float free
tired of poetic mediocrity
nothing new under the sun
not clever enough for that pun
heart sore and word desert bare
when I can't be bothered to care
you keep me grounded
you read the forgotten lines
find a charm, find a rhyme
something of beauty
a pleasure filled treasue
my effort you measure
and when my heart bleeds
you sound the alarm
checking on me
helping me to be
OK
you keep me grounded
Once again, I write
my muse metaphorically in flight
paradoxically poetic
for.....it's now clear to me
you keep me grounded....here
Dedicated to Richard Lamoureux!
Richard, thanks for the many many visits
and for making me want to stay
You keep me grounded
what can I say :)
“If you cannot be yourself, do not take away the identity of another.” -D.J.E.
Why do you return in another form,
Another residual voice?
Did you forget the palpable scar you left
Through your romantic coercions?
We believed you.
We trusted you.
We even kind of liked you.
You knew this,
You cherished this.
Yet, with enamoring backhands
You crossed the boundary of someone else's heart
While you forgot to rediscover
Your own independent territory
All in the name of co-dependent epiphanies.
Blame the shameful animosities around you
As you hide behind atmospheric rainbows
And tectonic miseries
You reach for the loins of those in disdain
As your smile falsely proclaims
That it will stop their rain
Your stalker’s reign,
The only truth behind your crooked swagger
Verbally, your conjugated kiss could never complete my sentences…
…for I’ve already been sentenced to a lifetime of paradoxical complexities.
And no matter how many profile pics you lay claim to,
You malicious self-worth will always be defaulted.
©D.J.E. – July 5th, 2018
Poems and Poetry
Have celebrated
Verbs right way conjugated
My poem was splendid.
Adverbs all correct
Subject and verb both connect
Poem now has ended.
Is no better way
Keep simple so you can say
What I intended.
Effort exerted
Muscles and mind now hurted
They now are mended.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Another poem about poems and poetry
Her embedded dialect,
Savored
I become a speechless stanza,
Craving her conjugated inhales
Hopped up grins,
Engorge momentary lapse of pre-judgments
Grandfathered seconds pass my retinas with
3rd eye epiphanies,
As she encroaches my textured tomorrows
How do I fly upon this gifted morn
When her lily-coated grins placate my Gaia wings,
Without uncertainty’s scorn
How do I breathe new breaths,
When her articulated verbs
Conjugate my silence
…
©Drake J. Eszes
They Are the Best
Many times I wondered whether or not
All my precious poems I have sought
Would a poet laureate make me one day
Of either state or our country, it just may.
An artistic poet someone once called me,
The way I write and arrange my poems to be;
Verbs used and way they are conjugated
And with the subject, how I have related.
Poems, like writing, about love and life;
Maybe with grief containing some strife;
Humor also is a subject I write about;
Think of world's troubles and all its doubt.
Poets may interpret my poems as strange;
How sentence with subject and verb, I arrange
And often have put my poems to the test;
People prefer mine and of all say they are the best.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Aggravation waited.
Health always debated.
Material things created.
Mental capacity unstated.
History always elated.
Final breath is fated.
Future is overrated.
Partners never sated.
Love cannot be slated.
Compassion will be desecrated.
Desire falsely translated.
Life is overly stated.
From the day we are created.
While we are all interrelated,
We continually face each other abated
Awaiting our dignity to be dictated,
We fail each other blindly sedated.
If we are lucky we go through life conjugated.
Poetry is the art of expression,
like a magnet attracts the poles,
poetry attracts my feeble heart,
till the feeling of lust surpasses love,
till the meaning of love becomes lust,
making me connected like the Siamese,
interconnection like blood vampires,
a mere myth but they create an empire,
the emotional attachment is tattooed,
embedded in my soul like a bad curse,
engraved like the tablets of moses,
then conjugated to show the rhythm,
to show the flow... not too low,
to melodies the flow... to grow,
yes poetry is the art of expression.
DO YOU NEED A DRESS FOR A HALLOWEEN STROLL?
I MEAN THE PERFECT ONE TO MAKE YOU ROLL?
THEN HEAR ME OUT AND FOLLOW NOT THE WIND:
AND TRULY YOU SHALL ENJOY THE HALLOWEEN.
A MOUTH WITH PROTRUDING INCISORS,
SHARP AND FEROCIOUS AS A BABY SCISSORS:
AND A BLEEDING MOUTH TO CHARM ALL THE VAMPIRES
WILL MAKE YOU THE PERFECT ATTIRE.
A FACE SO GREEN AND EYES BLOOD SHOT AS IN THE MOVIES
WITH AN OVERGROWN HAIR DYED WHITE,GIVES THE FEAR DISEASE.
LIKE GANDALF'S,SO BE YOURS AND YOU ARE IN.
FOR THIS IS A PERFECT HALLOWEEN.
A HEAD WITH PROTRUDING HORNS,
CONJUGATED WITH ELVISH EARS WITH THORNS,
GIVES A PERFECT HALLOWEEN IMPRESSION.
BUT DON'T FORGET A BLACK OVERCOAT.IT IS NO DIGRESSION.
RUN TO THE MARKET AND ASK FOR THE DEVIL'S PERFUME
AND BE BACK BEFORE THE HALLOWEEN TUNE.
YOU ARE ALMOST IN FOR THE MARCH
BECAUSE MANY VAMPIRES SHALL WATCH YOU PASS.
..THEN YOUR HALLOWEEN DRESS IS COMPLETE IF
YOUR MOUTH BLEEDS THE TRUEST BLOOD
THAT WILL MAKE THE VAMPIRES PROUD.
LOOK IN TO THE MIRROR AND ENJOY THE SIGHT.
THUS YOUR HALLOWEEN DRESS IS COMPLETE.
BUT DO NOT FORGET:
IF YOU SLEEP IN YOUR HALLOWEEN DRESS,
YOU WILL MEET THE DEVIL AS I DID.
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.