The hurt is pooling in my throat
and to avert the watershed,
you build the dams I tolerate,
make my demands the stagnant moat
where if the bridge is drawn, I'll drown
So I hold on to stay afloat
Then, once I'm safely back onboard,
your gaze, a hazel gray garrote,
will take my breath away, instead
I tolerate the dams you build
for fear I'll find no other boat
The pen is tidier than the cord.
A garrote provokes an unsettling gurgle
That reverberates in the midnight hour
When one is trying to pursue a guiltless sleep.
The pen, however, resonates
With an uncanny mystic harmony
That allows the comforting lullaby
Of literary reprisal to carry out the hit.
Character assassination: a cowardly villain’s vengeance.
Since time out of mind, out of thought,
a molecule of mankind (like I)
is held hostage by the garrote
of just being, and wonders why
the universe has it overwrought,
but too woebegone to ramify.
As my fragile frame and presence
of mind contract and then explode,
aspects of self lose existence
(like schizophrenic à la mode):
and therefore no longer make sense,
whilst suffering a manic episode.
Because of my mad disorder,
these lines reflect a troubled rhyme
(and an unbalanced word order);
still, so long as I feel sublime,
there won't be need (by court order)
for me to do more Bedlam time.
C-elebrant
H-appily
R-eads
I-deal
S-tatement's
T-opic
I-n
N-atal
E-vent
G-ladly
A-ppreciating
R-ight
R-emembrance
O-f
T-he
E-xpression
Topic: Birthday of Christine R. Garrote (December 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
A spider came crawling from my mouth.
Obstructing my thoughts, its view uncouth;
Wet-plaster egg-sacs lined in rows,
Frothy-white gluey strands stand aloft.
A whistling through teeth, acerbic garrote,
Like a ed-up chord, one shrieking note.
With spiked legs, lustrous eyes, it wriggles,
Inside and upwards, black shadow in throat.
In its dew-filled cavern, a spit waterfall trickles,
Eidolon eyes, the spectre reflects superficial
Light from gentry degenerate troughs.
My tongue swells purple, sour and fickle.
Odious fangs consume the decaying flesh
Of voices and whimpers and virtue lost.
In pellucid, idle husks, his venom flows -
Dripping acid, his wolf-grin, as I cough.
Nowadays it’s difficult to live as an uneducated
Un-education is a curse- it’s known to all-wise
Wisdom sometimes unable to show the right path
Path erects many roots where grow puzzling ideals
Ideas of life bring conflicting doctrine in believers
Belief is truth for who believes, not for equal to real
Reality can dig out the past, present to show the true
Truth, though is an undeniable piece of any knowing
Knowledge of certain books garrote the curious learned
Learning on the natural ways is prohibited heritage
Heirs of the ancient lit up fatalistic light everywhere
Where the conscience keeps losing power to followers
Following is not wicked but a blind brain imports nothing
Things of biased acumen can abuse the value of anything
29.08.2020 Chattogram
***Note***
I want to learn everything through new ways
Although for that I have to be uneducated
The knowledge of the old scriptures is not suitable for me
Because I am learning myself with conscience everyday
C-omposer
H-as
R-ightfully
I-nvited
S-omeone
T-o
I-nspire
N-icely
E-ntertaining
G-irl
A-s
R-apturous
R-egards
O-ffer
T-errific
E-xcitement
Topic: Birthday of Christine Garrote (December 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Hardly, a Human Being!
Get a hammer and garrote that
brainchild,
That demonic smartphone, I propose.
That mutant who seduces you,
With most amorous rings!
Put the sultry siren to rest,
Tune into the real world, as it's
simply the best!
Above all else do not invite family or
best friends over for dinner.
Place the sultry siren on it, next to your
sweaty palms on the table at dinner,
Then start taking calls, checking messages,
and avoiding human contact, you dolt!
If you are alone with this devious device,
have at it, play with it, stay up all night!
But never avoid human connection!
Thinking, mistakingly that the human
is less than that interruptive thing?
See...there you go!
Already?
Like Road Runner racing, entranced by
ear bling,
Lost to its call~ to her captivating
insidious ring!
Panagiota Romios
4/9/2019
C-oolness
H-as
R-adiated
I-ts
S-hine
T-o
I-llumine
N-ew
E-arly
G-low
A-s
R-efulgent
R-ays
O-pen
T-he
E-nvironment
Topic: Birthday of Christine Garrote (December 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Who knew that I would need
shoestrings to escape rape?
I felt safe on a double date,
the “safety in numbers” misnomer.
He came on like a ten-armed
octopus with suction cup hands.
The couple in the back seat
were obviously in full accord,
based on sounds my ears
were recording.
Out-manned in size and strength,
I searched for a weapon.
I found it in the glove box.
A single, unattached shoestring
serves well as a garrote
when applied to the neck
of one whose hands are
occupied elsewhere.
He took me home.
5/23/17
Put you to sleep
And six feet deep
Instead of turning the other cheek
Toss you in a box of pine
Where the light never shines
Meanwhile, close by masses pray at a shrine
Every Sunday at nine
Eating a cracker and taking a drink of wine
As the planets occasionally align
Since far before the dawn of mankind
Swinging down from a vine
To put 'em in a bind
And choke another out with garrote instead of twine
Then cover it up with lime
Thinking like Einstein
Drawing a fine line
Among simple or intricate patterns and designs
I'm drenched in slime
And so much grime
Yet still on the climb
All the time
Will look you in your eye
Until you die
Without saying goodbye
Birds still or in the sky
As they fly and glide
She wanted to be my Bonnie if I'd
Be her Clyde
She sent me a valentine
And kept giving me all kinds
Of signs
Saying she wanted to be mine
What doesn’t kill us …. may smother our soul
while brain and body breathe yet, as ever so;
Fragile core pieces may splinter and ache,
mourn the sparks fate did not wake
while notions continue for motion's sake;
What doesn’t break us …. may garrote our spirit,
burn our ink to day dark dust
where no write pens a peaceful brush
or pain stroked hush.
catching his goat
my dear
if you aim on catching his goat
you best stop beating around the bush
you best not play in the pasture as a sheep
just go for his jugular
a garrote would do
words in poems, too, work
a contest placement, too
the worse is silence
connie pachecho
1/13/17
He loved to take his ladies to the Point,
a place that only locals knew about.
He hated bars or any kind of joint
where common folks with wagging tongues hung out.
The Point had a view of all the city.
Far from the crowds, it had the perfect spot
where he could take each woman oh so pretty,
and place around her white neck a garrote.
He loved to see the terror in their eyes
and feel them struggle with their strangled breath.
His stunning looks and charm were the disguise
that led them up that mountain to their death.
The point is that no woman could discern
his truth until their point of no return.
Dec. 9, 2016
Gasoline tears
The truck
Plows forward
Into the masses
Blood and destruction
Morality hijacked by abduction
Evil deeds pervade these cloudy days
Compassion is tossed into the sea in place of the devils seduction
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Satan’s followers shall face the garrote, headless will be those boa constrictors
Do not be fooled by silent ones and men behind masks disguising their petty angers
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Rays of the sun, the glow of the moon, and the beat of loves heart
Flower gardens shall grow tall, on the soil of the rotten evil ones
Goodwill shall peak behind the clouds, hugging humanity
Compassion shall dance on angelic wings
Love and passion triumphant
Plows forward towards
Eternity
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.