Sesquipedalian, sounds like an alien
Syllables trailing from your tongue like a train
Seems like you'd rather leave words in a lather
Forming like foam from the rain in your brain
Eye's water, this slaughter of discourse dissection
Is deserving of mid-course correction at least
If only your colleagues could change the direction
Of this Grand Panjandrum in pedantical feast
What I want wanted
Is all that I want.
This best-selling
Recipe can be yours Too! Too!
Click this Click button download
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Girls - girls in Calvin Klein
Thong girls, girls in pink purple
Red Red Red lace girls
Who sit silently in cars
Your windshield
Charm hitting rhythmically the wall
Chokes
Better
Judgement
Like
Victoria Secret lace going for Thirty-Five going for Thirty-Four surely no less than Thirty-Three million lives lost in sweat shops.
Shop Girls!
Sweat Girls!
Red girls in Red shops and Red cheeks
And pretty pink bits
In their pretty pink bits
All lace and want.
You want this delicate labour.
Of skin, of Cotton.
34D and it's made just for you.
This took eighteen years.
You'll find me in my panties drawer
When you like -
Our range is extraordinary.
Have you seen the peach? The clementine?
We don't really sell the pineapple, but you can take her for a spin if you're feeling a little naughty.
Wet baskets spill like the want of your beating wallet.
They call you mad if you dare act too rough,
then call you weak if you’re not tough enough,
do not care much when we receive good news,
but flock like locusts when someone is screwed.
The claim to hold our leaders to account,
but only one party will they ever denounce.
They interview, claiming truth is their goal,
then cut it up, to smear you and to scold.
They claim that they must go speak with all sides,
but then only reprint a tyrant’s lies,
show endless contempt for their own nation,
yet whine when facing recriminations.
They strut about like they’re some privileged class,
but their high words get debunked rather fast,
say ‘objectivity’ like it’s a shield,
yet preach narratives, rather then what’s real.
Think we should trust only folks with bylines,
when internet proves them wrong every time.
They misinform, those useless, lying hacks,
I wonder if we can bring the stocks back…
me
Ever
Blamed,
Belittled
You're nothing
The reason for our woes
Something wrong with you
Failure of the family
Needs help
Pathetic
me
All
Voices
Long silent
Still deafen
Crushing
Small
me
Yet
In the pain
Hides a choice
Different
A path, to listen
A voice
Yes
ME.
‘Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful.’ – Molly Ivins
A fly on the wall; a listening bug, if you will, ha!
Over conversational buzz I hover
oh, the grift and greed I discover.
Did you know the common-man-ripoff
is a state sponsored affair? (Gasp!)
Elite pockets; cold in the snow job
if not lined with heat of poor money. If
mouthparts spoke, I’d sip rot to tip truth; a spy
for the small fry, not for rooting media piggies
… for who would suspect a lil ole drone like me?
I found this site called Poetry Soup
Here you can get applause from a group
So I started writing poems, none make the best
My family tells me to "give it a rest."
I need some tough love, some commenter to say
"Your talent is poor, go outside in the day."
Instead, the site policy is to always give praise
Can anything save me - I hope it's just a phase.
Every time I say a sentence, I think of a rhyme
For instance, "dime, time, buy some outshine"
Can't stop rhyming, can't stop writing
I can't get a life that is more exciting.
So to all you young men, sitting on that stoop
Stay away from Poetry Soup
Find yourself another hobby, get some fresh air
Don't be like me, stuck in this creative lair.
Searching for a word, sinking in despair.
Thank God, we have Liberty!
Thank God, oppression is something we no longer have to see
Thank God, we live in the land of the free
The land where injustice is a thing of the past
The land where the price, as they said, is lower for gas
And when politicians debate, they have a great big laugh
Thank God, we have Liberty!
So much, we welcome our neighbors across land and sea
Welcome them to the great land of opportunity
The land where children feel safest in their schools
And drugs like vapes are so not cool
The land where the president follows all the rules
Thank God, we have Liberty!
That our troops don’t march armed in our cities
Thank God, that’s just a thing of history
In a land where we all stand united as one
No neighbor against neighbor, son against son
And we have no use for our guns
Thank God, we have Liberty!
That every person has control of their own bodies
And we have the right to make choices and be healthy
Thank God, we have Liberty
But God, I ask a question to thee
What does Liberty really mean?
i smile at people all day long
young and old
fat or skinny
abled or disabled
strange looking or plain as can be
it’s all the same
but when it comes to me
too fat too wrinkled too old
i’m full of criticism
and i can hardly bear
to glance into the mirror
if this would be a friend
confiding in me
i would be appalled
i would shake them and
tell them they’re crazy
and to snap out of it
so hear me, you be my witness ~
i’m committing here and now
to wear my grand-mother’s ring
(the most beautiful woman in the world)
to remind me beauty is in the heart
we should remember always
that kindness is what’s beautiful
and keep that earwig in our ear
AP: 2nd place 2025
critique not asked as serpent rises from the jealous swamp.
I judge a painting on a simple term,
one benchmark that covers them all -
considering everything else I ask:
‘would I have this up on my wall?’
I love to read other's poetry
and I hope that they love to read mine.
There's much to be gained and lost (only time)
and iron, it is writ, sharpens iron.
And yes, I can list the things I insist
make a poem a wonderful thing:
what does it say and without cliche;
does it rhyme when it's read, does it ring?
Does it resonate, this topic they chose?
Is their point belaboured or brief?
What image was used to start a thought?
What thread runs through the motif?
Criteria piles up and gets in the way -
are there artless gauges or signs?
Perhaps, in the end, did it make me say:
‘How I wish I had written these lines’?
Why I Love Writing Poetry?
Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.
Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
It’s an issue when I say something,
but also when I don’t.
There’s a problem with when I eat,
but also when I don’t.
Someone always has something to say,
or looks to throw.
No-one looks at what they do,
just at what everyone else does.
Those who crown themselves with miters and croziers
Are dry and barren canals to which I shall describe
Boats remain frozen in their abandoned and void place
The waters being a simulacrum of doctrines
Only the arid wind gives a sense of forward time
The bubbling and fizzing spring they cut from themselves
Those who pass by recognise there is nothing to drink
Only worms and serpents live within the canals
Their waters of void do not show heaven’s face above
No vision of sparkling angels appears anywhere
Nor can people see their face on the canals
Behold the crown jewels of those called servants and watchers
Inspired by this verse "Those people are dry canals." from The Apocalypse of Peter:
http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/apopet.html
Being criticized by wise
it's totally flattering
tremendously stimulating...
Not so much for obtuse !
Random thoughts flutter across a page
And take shape in verses of expression
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
While the actor repeats upon the stage
Phrases acting out playwright’s impression
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Both painting portraits of love and rage
In concise words, the writer’s profession,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Visually the reader will absorb, engage,
Theatergoers easily observe the passion
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Poets create images like a bird in a cage
Their poems coming in and out of fashion,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
The value of writers the public will gauge
Sometimes without the proper caution
Random thoughts flutter across a page
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Written May 13, 2022
#51 on the BEST POEMS LIST
June 12, 2022
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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.