The censorship
Who would have guessed that X should
practice censorship, but it does
A person called Tommy Robertson has
been giving free rein to spew out his
hatred of migrants, mainly from Muslim countries
countries
In Tommy's mind, every migrant is a rapist
He hammers nonstop about the crime
they commit
One understands that the mass migration of
Poor people from Muslim countries are
a problem, caused by politicians, that
have not reduced the inflow, it is not the
migrants per se
Tommy Robertson is a vulgar agitator
who has been giving free rain on X to
to spew his hatred, to the point of defending
Israel's atrocities in Gaza and the West Bank
In Tommy's mind, a good Arab is a dead one
I have tried to be critical of him
But what I write is being censored
None of my criticisms of Tommy Robertson
Once they are published, they disappear
before the ink is dry
One has also noticed that George Galloway
are not saying anything critical, wanting
to keep his audience on X,
Pencil jumped out of my right hand and gave my left fingers a tiny tap
Three new ideas came to me in a quick snap; I needed pencil back.
Pencil refused to take direction, gave my cheek a tiny slap.
It was my fault for personalizing him and naming him Mack.
Mack wrote for an hour and ten minutes, never taking a break.
I noted it was all about himself, and most of it was fake.
Serves me right for giving him free rein.
Having an arrogant pencil is a bit of a pain.
Passing of Time
Caught up, time to exploit.
Hours to utilize, with what?
Jump into my time machine,
that’s what, give it free rein.
To the Blue mountain.
Swim in the pool with the boys
Make a good stroke or two,
then into the good book.
Now no particular place to go.
No particular agenda, plan to fill.
No particular good reason to,
just slip into the saddle an do.
Let my pony rear up, run wild
across a couple of empty hours.
Those moments slipped into twilight.
A snow white, almost full, moon hangs
low in a bright indigo sky.
Sitting along side the Pitt dyke.
Observe the moon crawl upwards,
to the south west across the shadowy
branches of a standing alone tree.
Helios having none of this moon
sets the south west horizon ablaze,
fire flickering among the trees, to see
while this one sits in the saddle
waiting, watching, time for supper.
A Wendy’s spicy chicken
will fill an empty space, in me, not time.
That would necessitate something spiritual.
Something intellectually stimulating.
Something that would express artistic flair.
Something that would bring one’s soul to light.
B. J. “A ” 2
November 23rd, 2023
When the truth gets sidestepped
to satisfy Hope...
it’s a sad lesson in life.
Not giving my feelings free rein,
I've opened myself to vulnerability.
And on hearing my heart cry out,
struggling under the weight of despair,
I was moved to tears.
My life is a never-ending story
of how love was found,
only to be lost.
For the reality I clung to so dear
was a dream, from which I've awakened.
Tears don't harbor hidden rainbows:
only sadness marks their release.
And pain surrounds doubtful decisions,
yet Hope still urges me forward,
despite my anguish.
One dream, one heart, one soul;
words that once defined who I was
are snagged on the jagged edges of my broken heart.
And a flood of hurt morphs into tears,
as I mourn a love lost to time.
The biggest facilitator of smugglers is the Force itself?Most of the youth are addicted to crystal, and ice, etc?Aliens have given free rein to youths for drug abuse and trafficking?Most of the time,the news about the failure of the smuggling attempt in the TV, newspapers is done to throw dust in the eyes of the public and the international media or to prolong their job?Who has seen Coast Guards, Customs, Police and FC officials and officers become millionaires? Smuggling at borders will never end,as the corrupt officials and customs are the main culprits and beneficiaries of this system? How could smuggling take place when border forces are there to guard and petrol the border?It is to be said
that the chowkies collect a huge amount of illegal money from poor drivers and the money is shared among the people who are rulling this system for years?We have destroyed our country with our own hands..
Is there a threshold for pain?
Till this much, you can contain,
Above this, you can complain,
Cross that, you can go insane?
How much can you take that strain?
Is there a threshold for pain?
Can you allow it free rein?
Or will you somewhat restrain?
How much can you train your brain?
How much is assumed humane?
Is there a threshold for pain?
How much hurt can you sustain?
How much calm can you maintain,
When you're assaulted again?
How long from tears you'll refrain?
Is there a threshold for pain?
10th May 2023
{7 syllables per line}
What lays ahead
I have, for some time not eaten boiled cabbage
it is not of the slightest importance if not boiled
with shoulder ham.
On the roadway, a shop sells eggs and teaches you
how to make scrambled eggs a change from eating
the endless pizza.
Besides the egg shop, a driving school endlessly
telling would-be drivers: you drive the car, the car
is not driving you.
This mantra is forgotten as soon as new drives
hit the motorway, an ancient hatred is given free rein
to the disgrace suffered when learning how to drive.
A large group in tow
big families show
some strain.
But music we know
everywhere we go
free rein.
We set the tempo,
sung a capello
right brain.
No tension, no pain
enjoyment we gain
we sing
of nothing profane
for who can complain
arms swing.
Though the pitch may wane
volume we sustain
with zing.
Reunion’s the thing
big family fling
why so?
To meet new offspring
older cousins bring
cargo:
food for the feeding
songs we'll be needing
pronto.
March 23, 2023
Kim Rodrigues' Write Me a Virelai contest
ABSTRACTED
an elegant
obsession
transformed
from the absence
of light
beyond black
a
created complex
of smoothness
in
surfaces
absorbed
by
reflected light
so
hard to exploit
a
fascination
with luminosity's
potential
to create
to juxtapose
&
overwhelm
in swathes
of
the
normal
such
a
duality
of
the
delicate shadowed
then
merge
to
a free rein
in
interpretation
of
notions
Some poems’ births explode (full bore), life ends when written down,
their flow makes toothpicks of my pen, brain chokes on truth laid bare,
a flash that flares, a splash of cognac in cook’s pan (taste’s light!)
While others grow more leisurely, gestation delicate,
they lead me through more sylvan glens (where shadows live - a thing)
and beams of light dance as leaves drift until thoughts’ breeze gets spent.
I covet both but give free rein to muse that pays day’s rent
for fear I’ll miss a gift life shares, perchance a golden ring!
I rarely guess a poem’s end; I’m more its advocate
and track my muse the best I can until day’s touched by night!
My heart is this, to offer grace to fancies muse may dare
embrace, hold dear. Lord, I feel blessed to be my muse’s clown.
Krakatoa Kritic #007
December 7, 2022
When she takes her life into her own hands
with fingers that read braille
from dot to dot
Refuse to live in the void of darkness
between A-Y
No boat was built
to stand on shore
She wants to remove the writing itch
from dot to dot
Soft words that tickle the tongue
Let light shine in all lighthouses
over the seven seas
Read all favorite books
over and over again
creating images
sprinkled with angel dust
free rein to your imagination
For those who are blind
or visually impaired
a brilliant invention
Read and write
from dot to dot
to a flood of experiences
15.11.2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
An anniversary smile;
triggers feelings that beguile.
A joyous celebration
of your love's affirmation.
Congratulations are due
as your friends party with you.
And they roast your special day,
with banter and interplay.
Time for fun festivities;
and adult activities.
Feelings are given free rein,
as love's toasted with champagne.
Marking this date every year,
why you celebrate, is clear.
And thus, these markers in time
feel fantastic: quite sublime.
If you want to find God, look in your heart,
and if you don't see Him there, look again.
But this time, set your hopes and doubts apart;
and give feelings, free rein over your brain.
If you believe in God, then reveal it
through your actions and treatment of others.
God's love unites you more than you'll admit,
for all humans are sisters and brothers.
You have no proof God exists; that is true,
but it explains your conscience and free will.
God exists within your heart, guiding you,
He entered it at birth and dwells there still.
You'll not find God in church, for He lives in
your heart, and that's where your search must begin.
Only brief free-rein
rests the bird on a lone branch
soon poetry flies
liberty in waves
cantering along the shore
free-rein no rider
Image by ATDSPHOTO Pixabay
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.