Never
is there a
deja vu~though
stories tell of
finding duplication of
past happenings~
this is the
first and last
happening
as it is~
yet
deja vu
sticks with
the story
which is also
as it is~~
There exists one of God’s creations with a unique imagination
No matter how long the sun burns on, he will forever resist duplication
He’s our very own Terry Flood, of course
Did you think I meant Mr Ed, the horse
Two Loves
No two loves are
quite the same;
I guess, that's why
it's love – if not,
duplication would
be to blame...nothing
worth holding on-to.
Humane Nature
Human Nature I have
long forsaken – though
the lessons learned linger;
having grown far too old
to wish for harmony...
while never too jaded
to believe in Love....
A Stubborn Pumper
The heart is a stubborn
pumper, like a drummer
high on beats; his hands
and feet, loyal to the rhythm –
sensing, every pulse an answer
to Life –
She.
Serenity’s relief adheres to alabaster sleep from the rivers own pale fruit.
There is majesty in the tides annihilation that polishes cheek and lip.
A smile as slight as sanctity anoints reflections saturated, ineffable.
Not even her amused sediment mask could locate her distant shore.
She.
A blink gives birth to locked gaze that gorges itself upon the unblemished.
Possession thickens the surging blood that flows only for the unknowable.
He cannot resuscitate, cannot embrace what has drowned, drifted.
So, she holds him while he presses plaster to eye, mouth, and nose.
She.
Preserving fleeting pores that gape beneath the thunder of the adoring gaze.
Seraphic visage is captured and crafted with his heartbroken perpetuity.
Confessions of devotion wash up on empty banks and sink into blackened silt.
Lonely as a legend she leaves him and walks silently into deaths duplication.
I see that I am just One Thought.
God’s image – the very core
at the center of the center;
nothing spinning off into endless supposition.
Nothing branching, leafing or imagining.
No platforms of consciousness, realms,
no parallel dimensions, no other existing,
no stasis, no fleeting.
No conditioned realities, no division of reality.
No conditioned creation – therefore create,
no multiplication, no duplication or variation,
therefor understand all differences
and enjoy.
Not these words, no yesterday, no tomorrow,
no today.
No being, no nonbeing.
Not two,
nothing excluded, nothing separate,
just this singularity – absolutely
empty of condition.
One seed thought – just one.
Be like a black bird that shines
in a dark featureless night,
knowing you are
all that is, was and ever can be.
~~~~~
With the eye popped he seemed ugly
Mimicking the stinking diabolical
Image of the unimaginable hungry
Whose head the slug left unstable
The slug left the shell with mucus
To end into the seas of darkness
Where he swam the wagging focus
Whose empty shell spent relentless
As he turned facing the sun
For sucking the arty warmth
It rang that he left in the shell
That son tomorrow the wrath
Unimaginable dissolution gates
Shortleaved dislocated brain
Loin to loin joining abates
And later I wish to the strain
Before the foe for thought
Spread the bed that led
Like a slug brain shouldn't split
Deserting the meninges your Shell
For under anger and duplication
Bearings of dire aspirations
One per cent carries to locations
Later united in the desertion
Alas the Sonnet’s plight is love’s
unending supplication
beseeching it to beautify
its fleeting, heartfelt notion
Implore the reader to take sides
in passion’s conflagration
knowing well the end result
self centered adulation
will quickly dry the lover’s tears
in mirrored duplication
a dance alone in memory
of escapes anticipation
Thus from the flames, a Phoenix rise,
for love is born before love dies
John G. Lawless
©9/17/2018
of part one pertaining to my most recent poetic entry (Inexplicable Quirky Memory Unhinged clasp one) unintentionally got submitted twice, and rather than tamper with attempting to delete delicately, (and probably wreak greater havoc then desirable), this generic human male (meaning thy characteristics of body, mind and spirit) lumped within that general category designated as average.
this chap neither exalts in arrogance, haughtiness, orneriness...nor does emasculate, humiliate, lacerate...his being.
tis modesty i strive for despite the (all to quick to judge via initial virtual impression) predicated on my predilection to populate poems (and/or prose) with ponderous pedantic particular pun dit tree.
I etch an outline of the landscape’s reflection,
pigments and colors making nature’s connection.
I portray a mighty bald eagle fly in the distance
above a mount that hovers with affection.
For painting is my entire life’s existence,
the beauty of an empty canvas is perfection.
There’s nothing more lovely than an illustration,
a magnificent depiction of God’s creation.
A composition of an abstract design,
or a family portrait carrying characterization.
I know that when the brilliant starts align,
I feel the need to use my imagination.
Paintings of my sweet dogs I have created
with shadows of their tails in mediums faded.
There’s no duplication just originality,
this gift I have makes me highly elated.
I sense my fascinating personality
reveals my talent as life is translated.
I whitewash the marvel of memories,
through paintings of wildlife and the trees.
When I’m in the moment of developing art,
I experience the splendor no one else sees.
All my flair and skill come from my heart
and in each moment I paint... I find ease.
In the Moment Contest
Heidi Sands
May 7, 2018
ancient tree
gnarled branches twisting-
bird songs drift
______________________
April 28, 2018
Added after contest judged- May 2, 2018
________________________________
Poetry/haiku/gnarled branches
Copyright Protected, ID 1017-710-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Duplication Only With Permission.
Written for haiku contest,
sponsor Mick Talbot
First Place
New Year approaches with anticipation
Days into nights of celebration
Finally wind down without complication
Resolutions somehow last year’s duplication
Goals ambitions same old compilation
Faith restored with rekindled motivation
Determined to outdo forthcoming orchestration
While staying remote of temptation
Predict incomparable year of creation
Maximizing joyful bursts of imagination
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on October 5, 2018 for contest RHYME BATTLE: Xi sponsored by JULI-MICHELLE - RANKED 8TH
Chartreuse b l a d e s encompass the ROSE,
she portrays beauty that nobody knows-
When the rain p o u r s her bud grows,
with her p e t a l s that sparkle her love glows.
As she gleams in the sun she shines,
she is magnificence and marvel combined-
She calms me with grace and repose.
My favorite flower is a pink CARNATION,
she BLOOMS in the Spring with appreciation-
Mother Nature has made a l o v e l y creation,
oh, there could never be a duplication.
As she b l o s s o m s in the day she glares,
fascinated by her luster as she flares-
I write in the emerald field with inspiration.
I used them both in my wedding b o u q u e t,
I said, “I do”, on that warm August day-
on grandma’s tomb is where I lay
both b e a u t i f u l FLOWERS; true love they portray.
When the wind blows with ease I feel,
the appreciation in my soul; my heart heals-
As I pick them both in the f i e l d by the bay.
Roses and Carnations Contest
October 8, 2017
If lighting was glory I be the chief to deliver the hammer impeach,
Take Ironic for animal instinct a card of hand for gamble we got a solution,
If to read a play or need a trade of hand I would be left for talented,
If a dog has a duplication and every dog has it’s day,
Put a a underdog in a suit and tie to save the day.
How To Remove Duplication and Replication
What if by me a poem was duplicated?
One that was similar or another related
What could be done to remove each one?
Not causing harm or doing away with fun.
What I want is to make removal complete
And end up determining that I did delete
With removing all of the much suspense
Which can be caused by a coincidence.
Instead of reading a whole, entire book
For hints about where I will have to look
Give me something simple and well-planned
So on right place easier my efforts will land.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
The conception of computer science leads us to believe,
That the possible digital world inside we should leave;
When augmented with medicine and live, artificial arms,
The human-robot may raise many loud alarms.
A world of vast computer space with such dangerous functions,
Ackermann would quake at such duplication gumption;
To be able to copy yourself, to many times self-indulge,
Makes others avoid your egotistical, delusional bulge.
One tablet: Red or Blue? New life or your mundane existence?
But the journey only validates relationships normal with persistence;
Technology is carved by your own mind which has a kind superior,
Who knows your limits, understandings and warm interior.
Spatial transportation must be used for good and love,
The digital space does not give integrity the shove;
It’s our invention and must be bound by righteous laws,
To forbid its abuses and imprison peodophile flaws.
Muscles flex for good, healthy, and liberating computing,
Your friendships, interests and creativity are for routing;
Popularity, commendation and consolations are in store,
For your happenings, occasions and scares which mean more.
Sub Categories
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.