Kodama
Okuyama
Nakamura
Egger
Zyciora
Tomasson
Chhabria
Canso
It sings with a voice that stings two skies,
That fades the summer yet can’t evade autumn.
September holds both the warmth and the cold,
Of summer’s youthfulness and autumn’s ruthlessness.
A thousand weathers still thunder one name,
As northern breezes chill, leaves whisper red on each hill.
A square. Right there.
It moves closer.
Wonderment:
Why square? Why there?
Why me?
Changing shape now.
Every second counts.
No one else will see.
Why me?
The square is lost —
not there,
but once it was:
a square,
drifting toward me.
Now only lines,
perhaps.
A square-cloud
visible only to me
dissolves into nothing.
Why me?
can only start near end
remember let touch send
text tow wind knot unkind
several almost always blind
sans sanctions dubious doubt
say mean like when what shout
carries sharing showing how
onward fast firm never bow
talking points pants unknown
leaves most places all alone
random rules ruin rights rot
cools unnerves calms hits spot
late early loose worm kills bird
silent talks sounds rarely heard
wonder if of out with not who
plays things spams let capture you
good spear into through core
trembles minds hearts bodies more
remembers few less censored
fragments fails points scored
I feel like I'm drowning in the stormy sea,
Tiamat help me write on the Void, please ,
My mind empty ;coming up with thoughts I freeze,
I feel I am drowing;what is the key ?
I drank some Jameson whisky to lube my brain ,
Today I feel like an empty beer barrel,
The words I need I find hard to channel,
It did not help the existential pain.
Tiamat said Listen and stop ing,
If my agents got thru you know what to do?
"I am All ,hear my tales ,see my image ".
Remembered the tales flesh is awakening,
Void is potential and naught at once too,
It is in your bones so make the linkage.
You have named your daughter Sappho
you have named the hills with halo.
We take the next walk to a room
fed with different hues about blume
its chaining unbridled powers
bring the central motif in hours.
What do I wish for my wild heart?
In this trail is the finest art.
That is why I am almost there
With Lydian lyre and lore, or more
Cher sings her effectuated soul,
Discerning hearts excite the whole.
Your are dressed up in cool nights and days,
Showing pretty colors always.
your °c°•o°•o°•l° k~i~s~s of l"i"f"e
my lips crave it d
e
e
p
l
y~
b
r
e
athe my l°o°v°e to l"i"f"e
I once read about a middle ages warrior
Who was forced into a secret hide away.
With time on his hand, he observed an ant.
The ant continued his effort in scalling a wall.
The ant was carrying a grain of corn and made
Repeated attempts to climb the wall with the corn.
The ant failed 69 times in his most difficult pursuit.
Counting each attempt, the warrior said that the ant succeeded in his 70th attempt. Can you imagine the
Courage that the ant must have given to the warrior?
From this story, three Words come to mind.
Desire, commitment, and determination.
hey friends raise your heads
lovers of green and flowers
let your minds relax
My color is honey color! Lucid sweet food pleasant medicine!
Poem of the Day : 13.8.25
Cartoon Character Clerihew
12.8.25
Placed 4th : Standard Contest
Donald Duck and Daisy Duck
had so much plucky luck
they invested in tranquil park ponds
then meditated swimming alongside fronds !
In moonlight's hush, beneath the elm,
A masked marauder stalks his realm.
With paws like whispers, eyes like coal,
He seeks the prize that fills his soul.
But lo! The bin—his ancient foe—
Stands smug, unyielding, sealed in woe.
Its lid, a tyrant, cold and tight,
Dares mock his hunger in the night.
"Have you forgotten?" he snarls with grace,
"The feast we shared, the sacred place?
You fed me once, you knew my name,
Now plastic locks deny my claim."
He leaps! He claws! A ballet grim,
A pirouette on garbage rim.
Banana peels and coffee grounds
Rain down like war drums' hollow sounds.
Neighbors wake to chaos born,
A furry tempest, rage and scorn.
Yet in his heart, a deeper ache—
Not trash, but trust, was theirs to break.
So if you see him, tail askew,
A poet wrapped in dumpster dew,
Know vengeance drives his nightly plan—
The raccoon scorned by a trash can.
Autumn is near
When nights on hours of the day do impinge
Softer are the rays of mid-day sunshine
Greenish leaves do start to pick orange tinge
Tall lupines linger low, curl down and pine
Roses slowly start to shed their petals
Lovely lavenders languish with crisp fear
Cooler air from grey clouds starts to settle
Purple pansies begin to drip sad tears
When birds flutter with less strength with reason
It`s time to hail the fall`s train which is near
Time to greet the coming Autumn season
With its splash of red saffron hues so dear.
Specific Types of Cool Poems
Definition | What is Cool in Poetry?
Poems Related to Cool
air conditioned, arctic, biting, chill, chilling, chilly, cold, frigid, frosty, placid, quiet, refreshing, refrigerated, relaxed, serene, tranquil