O, dear poetry, how old are you?
give me a glimpse, The Story of Sinuhe
the art just might predate literacy,
before the birth of the written word, BCE
Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor the eldest fictious
the Epic of Gilgamesh on papyrus
the world’s oldest love poems, verselets
Homer’s ancient epics
Compositions made for spoken word
I finally found out from all I’ve heard
what my dear poetry means to me
the love of artistic lyrical spontaneity
learning of words using them expressively
or impressively, excessively, whatever it takes
with poetic license, there are no mistakes
Works that lead to electric elucidation
with rhythmic flow, meter and alliteration
my primo priority is; my poem pieces make sense,
with rhyme and my love for classic cadence
having the quality of amatory ambiguity,
steered adrift with ominous obscurity
strapping images of suggestive metaphors
I’ll write to inspire as do the troubadours…..
RESPONDING IDEAS
contracting
symptoms
of
characterised
emblamatic
affinity
in
a
precosiously
attributed
consensus
appropriately
&
expressively
determined
personal
uniformity
of
passive
naive
allusions
.
i thought 'bout sneak'n up
on her
jump'n thoze bonez
ruff'lin hern
down
i did i did
okay
and she thought
i it
were
expressively even
wit
my
click
Mister Elvis Presley
Sang his songs expressively
In Aloha From Hawaii,
He sang them just for me, aieee!
I was 15 when he sang just for me
Straight from Hawaii via TV,
My heart skipped a beat,
I jumped from my seat,
His music had changed my reality.
Elvis has now left the building,
Gone is the music and gilding;
He died much too young,
How many songs left unsung?
Magical power of written word, is
an expressive form of therapy
Verses sublime scaling the highest
of heights in such clarity
Significant thoughts of the scriptures
to enlightenment
Our consciousness of life through
written word entitlement
Fragments of quotes wanting will
seek to reach one emotionally
Expressively lulling like the sounds
of falling rain notably
It’s inwardly murmured rather
than of spoken dialogue
Rhythmic arrangement of syllables
sounding monologue
Evoking our sensory agents effecting
how our essence can generate
Or even an excitement over the
very moon’s crescent
Communicating the writers experiences
with results are apparent
Inevitably our words can be perfect
but at times still inherent
Beauty or evocation to ones
feeling in metrical form
Unspoken words giving witness
in an interpretation transform
At times overshadows all our
unparalleled contributions
Source helping in ones completeness
or finding solutions
9/4/22
i am going to sit down here
try this cheesecake ice cream cake
with a dollop of cool whip
listen to the waves crash as i
listen to some oldies from the 50s
and early 60s
i am going to let the rhythmic
crashing of the waves take me
away and nod my head to black
is black by los bravos followed by
jenny take a ride by ole mitch and
those detroit wheels traced by that
song i like called come softly to me
now what is the name of the group
does that little piece of wonderfulness
though i am by myself, my mind is
free and my stress level is zero
i will drink my vanilla oatmilk with
pride and pray for another sunny day
tomorrow
life does not practice perfection,
so i rush in the house when a sudden
starts to fall rather expressively
however, it is all groovy and gravy
after donovan makes me smile again
with that mountain song with the
unsuspectingly funky groove
In the middle of the night,
I have much inspirational insight;
My hobby's been written expressively.
Excessively dancing onto the keys,
Typing is amusically quiet to my ears,
This clearly imagined into being
A dance floor known as a keyboard;
I shall never be bored for long,
For a song of little sound is near.
In Calm of Dreams
When we sadly have left the world behind,
how we had lived and loved is what survives.
Quote - poet’s own
* * *
In dreams the scene is divinely serene
my loving arms hold you tightly, Irene
I kiss those sweet lips on your pretty face
calm in the magic of a warm embrace.
Those enthralling eyes still shine, as always
as expressively into mine they gaze
Our hearts beating together in passion
in quiet of night making love happen.
Each other's hand we will tenderly clasp
as we did in peaceful days of the past
Singing songs we knew as we used to do
whilst we two smooch beneath moonlight blue hue.
As we trip and skip down memory lane
we'll laugh and cry as we did once again
Then our lonesome hearts will break up in pain
for you've to fly back to heaven again.
My darling it won't be long, so it seems
in tranquil themes we’ll meet in calm of dreams.
11th May 2021
Writing Prompt - Calm - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
*
(Words in bold print are a requirement of the contest.)
Poetry, poetry, oh how I love thee.
I would count the ways, if not for infinity.
The beauty of creativity, that comes out of me.
Distinctively, characterizes individuality.
Senses and emotions, everything experienced
differently.
Yet, i write what i feel, with hopes of connecting
everybody.
Conjoined for a moment in time, as all else remains
stationary.
Imagining the varying views, and effect is so sexy.
Often wondering why it was a necessity.
To write on paper expressively.
Pages in a book of life lived daily.
As all, I have gifts and abilities.
No better, no worse, just certain proclivities.
A blueprint imbedded in the wiring of me.
Architected by the father who lives heavenly.
Poetry, poetry, oh how I love thee.
A soft bed, a good book, a big brother
Listening to stories that sweeten dreams
Expressively read to us by Mother
A fishing pole, bobber, and muddy streams
Catching grasshoppers and earthworms for bait
Walking with Father by lantern light beams
A cousin, a friend, a fun playtime date
Catching horny toads for spending money
Buying balloons – a few coppers bought eight
A peanut farm, a beehive, sweet honey
Eggs fresh from the nest, chicken off the block
Life much simpler then, it all seems sunny
Today I slow down, reminisce, take stock
How sweet my childhood, how fast-paced the clock
Intimacy found in mystery,
released despite the forbidden.
Eyes, joined in distance,
replies acknowledged in hidden embraces.
Pining turned to fixation,
blinded by the passionate
drive to completely consume;
Burned by expressive awareness.
The journey of a thousand memories,
whispered in late night phone calls.
Stolen kisses, frenzied then tender -
confidences only two can tell.
Behind closed private doors,
desirable physical caresses
are uncovered; Expressively debauched,
in the eyes of pledges broken.
Ties bound to one, divided
by an intensive linking,
that can never freely breathe deep.
Says You, Says I
I have no TALENTS!
I don’t have GIFTS!
I cannot paint a PICTURE,
Nor pen a VERSE,
I cannot play MUSIC,
Let alone SING,
I am so UNTALENTED,
I am HOPELESS!
I am rather USELESS
Says YOU.
Your SMILE is so lovely,
Your FACE lights up and shines,
Your EYES are so expressively kind,
Your SPEECH is always encouraging to me,
Your MANNERS are impeccable,
Your HEART is of the pure kind,
You have rare GIFTS and TALENTS
Just by being who you are,
Says I.
Francis Cooper-Mac © January 1998
"discovered mysteries"
admirers in every way passion stood time after time
with unexpected encounters we discovered mysteries
leaving us to want more have more love more
quietly softly secretly
always was affection from afar until that noticed flash
thankful for the slow pace taken on our journey as one
feelings of light radiating in and out grew stronger
expressively passionately openly
securing the meaning of one in a million to be true
the grace of love is what we have what we know
making all our discovered mysteries worth the wait
vividly blissfully endlessly
SkyWatcher
06-20-20
April thou as if aspiring
Person whoever
Remarkably
Inspire notable to thought
Literally in
Likes of
After thought
Decomposition ( not per say)
Absent-minded
Wordly but
Not to the tenth degree
Believers
Enable such said
Likewise therefore
In general a
Name poem expressively may be reclusive ,ect
eighty eight
keys with only
eight fingers and
two thumbs to plunk
away at what
ever i want to say
expressively or
depressively or
possably atonally
not anally retentive
that i need every
note rote
but i need
to finish this
and submit this
poem in less than
three minutes
to make my day
as i told mi Musa
a day of instrument
poetry
so i bid
thee a silent
symphony at my
fingertips
not to forget
the metronome
time clock and slow
myself
to an easy
carefree piece
in adagio
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.