Sad to see so many books
for want of being read
dying on the library shelf
some look as tho' they're already dead
and to think I could devour them all is fiction
I would be fooling myself instead
I've consumed all the classics Shakespeare complete
but science and mathematics have me completely beat
with all the thought authors put in hate to see it go to waste
can't put a good book down once I've had a taste
the silence of the written word
drink in the view something on which to chew
speaks volumes there's so much to tell
literacy is as the Trojan Horse inside my heart the citadel
don't want to see them fall by the wayside
thrown in the weeds on the seedy side of town
not wanted around
dropped in the dump out of sight out of mind
take a look there's so many books check them out
and oh so little time
In my eyes, alive I see
A place I wish to be.
In my eyes, alive I see
A way I wish for me.
To be alive and to know
My friends as friends go,
To face my way and then
Conquer my fate again and again.
I am feeling down
In the dumps
It is not your fault
My friend
I totally blame myself for it
Yesterday I was feeling
Tired all day
I even felt asleep in front of the computer
I had no excuses
I had to go right away to bed
This morning I woke up
At 5:59 am
I got ready to started the day
I had my big healthy breakfast
It feel me up until lunch time
I am a poet and I write poetry
And I must say that is what I do best
there is a feeling of quietude about the coast
I wonder about the sea, a lingering kind of ghost
romantical and soothing, she brings me to myself
I ponder her inflections, admiring her shelf.
the line is asymmetrical, which appeals to my artistic side.
the lapping water at her edges are dainty in the tide.
she has a unique feeling, that inspires me to want to write.
I feel inspired by this place, she makes my heart feel light.
A pen in hand, my readiness has quintessential power.
tiny glimpses of the horizon show me a potential shower
the coast is as meditative as any natural place can be
I marvel at her beauty, she brings me to the sea.
Is a diary entry 'poetry' per se?
What if it touches engaging the soul
peeling back layers of raw hidden emotion?
What if it bares sharing innermost secrets ~
what if it articulates heart to heart?
Sometimes we'll just blurt out our feelings
avoiding the fancy frivolous packaging
spilling the beans it's not always pretty.
We just say it like it is
black on white unfiltered uncensored
words spewing out without grace or flair
just getting the load off our chest.
So... are diary entries 'poetry'?
Yes if you want them to be
Yes when they go beyond the mundane
Yes when they pull at your heartstrings
in any way you choose ~
Lineku: 3 stanzas of 5-7-5 lines ~ every line either 5 or 7 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
By Poet "Our memories fill yesterday. Today our dreams will fill tomorrow."
Will my dream be here tomorrow?
A cool breeze does softy blow,
over me as if I will know.
Into deeper sleep I must go,
what will my dream now show?
I am still from head to toe,
feeling like I am aglow.
Another world I will go.
Within a dream what will I see?
A huge yellow bumble bee,
she was eating crackers and brie.
From this dream I want to flee,
please oh - please set me free.
My bed is now wet - I did pee,
let me out I will plea.
Now awake one, two, three.
My dream within a dream,
was it just too extreme?
It made me pee then scream,
what a very wild dream theme.
The bee rode a leaf downstream,
what a weird bee daydream.
Through the trees I saw a sunbeam,
the bright light looks like ice cream.
Now waking up with self esteem.
like a giant stalk of rhubarb
I stand my ground, defying the north wind
do your damage, I say, confident I will remain standing.
Whomp! a dog tail slaps into my thigh.
I am down in one solid whoosh.
Back in the day I could have jumped right back up.
A delighted dog is licking my face as if it is ice cream
His neck is stronger than I am
I am laughing as I try to push him away
Not feeling so powerful now
Why is it, when you want to go,
They ask you...can't you just stay?
And, when you want to stay,
They tell you...won't you just go?
The more I think on the subject,
The more I "Think!" I know.
Tell them, you really want to "Stay!"...
When you "Really!"...want to "Go!"
simple chords holding her music together in the form of a forgotten book
the cover hanging off. tied on by determination and love of music
simple cords, her grandmother used to say, make it easy to listen to
she was a patient loving woman who mastered a piano in every showroom
the torch had been passed, and Sophie was now the family maestro
all musical ability had bypassed her mother and her siblings
her satin ruffled dress made a crispy sound as she shuffled to the bench
the orchestra was waiting for her to take the lead.
Simple chords she whispered under her breath
feeling her grandmother next to her.
Your gut holds instinct,
It will make you think.
That sinking feeling,
Is revealing something.
Some things are not as they seem,
The gut knows when to intervene.
Coming in between,
What you are seeing,
Truly believing.
Receiving the information,
You have a clearer part to play in.
Within this simulation,
Your tuned to your own station.
You feel the invasion,
Embrace the sensation.
Meet the vibration,
To see truth or manipulation.
Instinct saves you from extinction,
So what is your gut thinking.
Just two
Very
Succinct
Sound bites
Invite
Modest
Gleaning
Yet four
Verses
Supply
Structure
To a
Riddle’s
Meaning
Seven
Lines per
Stanza
Strengthen
Impulse
Into
Notion
Main points
Settle
Strongly
When the
Poet
Adds “E-
motion.
I used to hate dresses,
The feeling of air blowing onto my legs and the need for sandals.
I hated the way my light blonde leg hair would shine so brightly in the sun.
High schoolers were so scary,
Taller than me, bigger than me, more mature.
Now I am that high schooler and I still feel that way about them.
I’ve always been the smallest girl on the field, in the classroom, on stage.
It gnaws at me because it is unchangeable.
Unchangeable in ways I would do anything for.
Gone are the days of running around on the playground,
Now are the days of straightened hair and perfect outfits.
Girlhood hits like a train, ending the non-gender conforming ways of childhood imagination.
Pre-conceived notions and unachievable expectations.
I used to be afraid to perform.
But that’s what girlhood is.
a thought of beauty scared away by negative thought
is easily bought as if given free
only to put on hold the bold
a thought so beautiful an angels breathe
could carry it across time
in a gentle rain shower
all living things could then feel its beauty
and be one with this beauty
which might strive to be alive
to share the air with all that lives
the beauty says, “I’ve seen things eyes have never seen
more beautiful than a rainbow in a waterfall
I tell you of things I’ve heard
melodies so pure as to melt the strings of a harp
while transcending the harpist and audience
to states of mind and emotion never before visited
open your minds and allow the essence of life
to dilute the sin nature of physical existence
imagine the soul as it reveals itself
beyond the limitations of the body
be your soul end the struggle
accept the oneness of being
you are a part of all that is
all that surrounds you, you also surround
blend in let your existence be noted
by your extraordinaire ability
to be congruent with all that is alive
with all that that is
you may become aware that the best of you
it actually the rest of you
looking through mind’s eye
as if in a trance
perhaps due to circumstance
or perchance the last dance
then again on the fly
without condescending
blending all elements in sight
I start to cry
wolf wolf the fear has arrived
disguised but still here
feel the fear
blowing in the winds of fate unknowing
death seeks to end the lie
just die bye bye die
then come again with reason
in another season
to veer out of last dance trance
to fly again in the universal wind
A shape of the void is providing innumerable occupations for characters on the stage to emote through clearest and wet lightning
the distortion of audience perspective sustains briefly
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