Haps Poems | Examples

The Work Rotter

Spire insight of silence
Swotch and bind, conspiracy of mind
Conspire and self-protrude
Mindless matter of maddened hatter
Borne gall of uncongruent bladder
Reign wettened confections'n faux pas 
Pram embedded bedding of public propaganda 
And poised for prose 'dulted diaper thrown an' broiled'n a gutter
Homely homelessness in wake of deft arms 
Freshened refreshener and wetted choke 
Chugged and driven doomed deliverance 
Cut of word 'cross and lost'n devious drivings of work
Ticking tenor left fear to render
These haps to fall through ungloved metal and measly meak meal, and 
Coarse feel along rift ridged riverbays
Swept upon eons of words spurred affray
Sully gusts, and worry t'encrust
And collect the lost worker from astray.

At random does dance destiny of chance

A raindrop falls whence came --back to the sea, 
Another, it so haps, on lotus leaf 
To shine forth under sun for a while brief, 
Yet, every drop gets seldom so lucky
As to get silk beds-- blades of olive grass, 
Becoming an early dawn’s pearly dew 
To capture unfolding time’s crimson hue. 
On dust some get buried in graves en masse, 
Some get a cherished trophy if modest--
A scaly trunk aloof that opts to stand 
In a barren desert's dry scorching land, 
Some fall in rain forest with scores of rest.
    All this makes me to muse on destiny: 
    Is it a chance random that opts to be? 
For sure, it is Nature’s celestial dance
That unfolds at random as choice-less chance.
_______________________ __ 
Sonnet |01.03.07, revised Dec 2024| fate/destiny, time, space 

Poet’s note: The sonnet-ending couplet does not end the sonnet, but poses a question and goes on to answer, and in the process stretches the sonnet to sixteen lines.

Quid Me Dicis

This bard has fine perks,but he needs more work .
A dude on Poetry states nicely writ.
The remark was pleasant quite a nice perk.
A lady says my poem is graceful.
Many do state my poems are tasteful.
Make the best of what happens with no aid.
Write poems from the heart you have it made.

The bard has fine perks focus on them too.
Look to the upside in all haps ok .
One dude said they couldn’t discern my view.
Make the best of what dawns,haps turn alright 
Praise to this bard by folks makes him feel bright .
Folks  about Cedar tree ode, dismayed.
Poet gripes? 3 awards won has it made .
shameful piss

Quilling the Spill

At last,
Education stood to teach.

Acres of agonizing memory.
Hectares of Hecate,
Tripling in advance of nonsense.

Peering round and round in vertical cylinders.

Spun web-less in a lore of forgotten before.
And after, for the sake-less now.

Trudging on to prevent neither from creeping upon the self.
The worry.
The memory of anamnesis to approach.
Guided by prodding pasts and redundant fates.

Ghosts are pasts pretending themselves futures.
Watching the agony unravel from the serfdom of their such.

A medium simply sees the swirl,
And laughs at the penchant for unlit prospects.
Adorning torches to hide lights from contemporary photonics.

I've sieved the lumens. 
Sheathed it for sequestered seconds in advance of past, present, and posterity. 

Commas written in Oxford language, knowing that a next is sure to follow.

Pretentious: yes.
Shallow: may-haps.
Yet perchance the parchment rolls on, flicked by feathers of ephemera once deigned to be feared.

Feathers quacking on in timid and oily idleness.

There's no point anyways, to a quill, without the spill of ink.

Fall Splendor

Written: September 4th, 2023
Fall Splendor                                            Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin       
______________________________________________________________

August walks out, ushering in a chilly decay.
Buds on the shrubs started turning shades.
Winds mock foliage as they swing and sway.
Anyone who finds will feel ecstatic by serenades.

Aestivating under a full moon, an inner tune swells.
Fragrant leaves litter the aurous floor where one dwells.
Night-flying fireflies escape being caught.
Feel the splendor of nature without a squat.

A breeze from the scarlet trees cools the night. 
Before winter frost, the chill brings delight.
Crisp air, a yellow, crimson, and violet maze.
Jade autumn foliage whispered winter glaze.

Summer, now fading, begins to elapse.
A telltale indicator of fall mishaps and haps.
Dance to unheard carols; they flutter.
Hypnotic motions beguile a splendid stutter.

Forever Trusty

Annie thought Ben would be forever trusty
    But Ben hain't been married nigh on two year now
       ~ 'haps he's jist a bit rusty

Me Right Now Whoops Just Then

this is my rite
right now
but it has
slipped
into
the

abyissmal
pit in my
gut that
takes
away
my

breath and
as i reel
punch
drunk
i feel
per

haps gasping
for air that
wasn't for
me but
for
a

nother and as
i take another
breath i seem
to somewhat
realize that
that was
me but

just moments
ago and not
even now
because
all the
time

time keeps
marching
on with
or with
out
me

Almost

It was almost perfect
So I almost believed
That almost was 
Absolutely to me

We almost loved each other
And you nearly fooled me
But may haps it was 
Never meant to be

We almost made it
But the road was too rough
And almost was never
Quite enough

She

/tang led /co coon /hea vy /with in /this shell
/I can /feel the /fall ing /whisp ers /out side
/it calls /and i /list en, /per haps /too well
/the door /is op /ened I /can not /hide

/And she /pulls me /out with /Si rens /song
/the air /hea vy /with her /lur ing /grace
/I know /my qui /et wall /will not /last long
/As she /lays her /lips up /on my /face

/we em /brace, she /soft ly /sur rounds /me
/in her /grasp i /feel more /a live /than ever
/The air /gent ly /sighs /"I'll set /you free"
/I a /gree, though /it wont /last for /ever

/Her touch /be gins to /fade with /the sun
/and my /mo ment /in the /rain is /done


Tangled cocoon heavy within this shell
I can feel the falling whispers outside
it calls and I listen, perhaps too well
the door is opened I can not hide

And she pulls me out with Sirens song
the air heavy with her luring grace
I know my quiet wall will not last long
As she lays her lips up on my face

we embrace, she softly surrounds me
in her grasp I feel more alive than ever
The air gently sighs "I'll set you free"
I agree, though it wont last forever

Her touch begins to fade with the sun
and my moment in the rain is done

Saint Anthony

They say you are the patron saint 
Of all things that are lost
Please help me to recover from
My efforts and my cost

I lost it at the racetrack 
And in a poker game
I lost it in a slot machine
Please help redeem my name

I lost it on my sister’s cat
And when I cleaned it up
I lost it on my sweet DeLilah
Please refill her cup

What’s that, you say?
These things don’t count?
Only real things, in any
Number or amount?

Haps you’ve seen my wallet then
My cell phone and my keys
These things I must recuperate
If you can help me, please 

While you’re out there looking
I’d have you also know
I’d have you keep an eye out for
My marbles and my eo-eo

Enjoy the music here.
http://mike-martin.net/Intervention

Time To Book a Holiday

It's time to book a holiday
Where we'll go I cannot say
A beach resort, or bush retreat
Maybe a chalet cosy, sweet

Maybe somewhere across the seas
In Bali they tell me "life's a breeze"
Somewhere I haven't been before
Same, same, it can be a bore

Now I know, I have a plan
Perhaps I'll take a pin in hand
Stick it somewhere on a map
This could do the trick may haps

But I want to go somewhere
Just anywhere I just don't care

Eliot Phrasis Quartet Recited Part 3

ELIOT PHRASIS 111
Dashed off by winds and rain
we have no autumnal beauty.Haps
and mishaps,vivid remembrances out
of dimness.Pray believe me a 
desponding state.Faith is not easy,
no impulse of triumphant affection
no pleasure in my chagrin.This savoury
morsel of capricious prohibition,a 
wise measure, quite apart from
indulgence.Hope and yearning,as
old age dims faculties, a prime
blessing, brings eager expectation
weakness and virtues.

From George Eliot Journal& Letters 1885
 
Listen to me read this phrasis quartet on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro

Existential State of Being

Universe so great and wide
Can barely feel myself inside
Existence insignificant
In this great scheme am I an ant?
What is the purpose, rhyme or reason
For the changing of the seasons?
And can you tell me why it rains
For days on end
Is it a trend?
Will I find out around the bend?
Or will my search be never-ending
The walks of life be aimless wandering
Never knowing up from down
A happy smile or sullen frown?
And will it even really matter
If I never know the answer
No use to wonder
Or moment to ponder
Should haves would haves
May haps could haves
What´s done is done
No turning back
The hands of time
I can´t rewind
So even if I am unsure
The point to keep in mind is this
Right here and now, this very hour
Is all I have and all there is.

Fright of the Living Dead 2k12

O Tony, wherefore dost thou feel out of sorts?
Existing so - tho' not soothly living.
Haps thou art the living dead which resorts
Into its cold chamber ne'er living.

Livin'

Just haps
all the yaps 'bout it
don't count for much when
it's over.

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