I seem to remember?
mr trump was doing
Away with such?
I't seems now forgotten
Pretty much.'
To exersize without using your body.' To over eat. And not gain weight, to introduce
An illness to humanity, yet not yourself getting any consequense.' To interfere with
Created seeds, and expect no problems
To feed meat products to herbivore cattle
And not create a sickness.' To teach low quality lessons in school, yet expect outstanding results, to glorify violence and
Expect safety.' To export your wealth yet
Expect a resilient economy, to denigrate and remove the experienced people, yet not expect extreme financial difficultiys.'
Sometimes it becomes painfully obvious
love is but a silly childish fantasy
~ we must redefine the dream
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
God is many things
Among those, an artist
The sky, his blank canvas
Sprinkled with hue of varying intensities
The sun
A golden fiery orb
Emitting light for all to see
To me, it's pure symbolism of
What Jesus is
And what we should strive to be
To be the light of the world
Not being consumed by the darkness
Of the worldly ones
I fail, and I stumble
Trying to keep up with society's ideals
Wear this, say that, do this
It's a controversial thought, but
Let's live how God intended
Spreading love!!
The moon the sun's faithful partner
The silver glow of the moon
casts a soft, ethereal light
over the landscape,
creating a tranquil ambience
that invites reflection and peace.
To me, the moon symbolises
Finding beauty in the darkest of times
Not the vague superficial type of beauty
Only looking at looks for looking sake
None not in any way
But to look upon the beauty of souls
Of hearts and of the mind
Truly I believe
God is an artist
I persevered, ‘My ideals are gone’
Life mocked me, NO! –
‘Ideals’ untested in reality’s crucible
are worthless, unusable
It’s a pity, this world isn’t ideal,
It’s a pity, we’re defect.
We, people are sinners.
It’s banal, we’re rebuild the Paradise by ourselves.
We live with such laws,
Which we’re devise here
It’s uncomfortable on the throne.
And somebody likes the dirt.
And someone flies on the wings of glory.
But felt before despair, fright, shame
Another is sitting on the bench forever,
And with all power envy him.
We are afraid of changes and forward
We stop the development in front,
Dress on sat veil
Each of us is a poet for himself.
We are filling up the world with angry,
Hate and the pain of betrayal.
And after coming of the guest
It’s every glad to see a baby.
Maybe, the hope lives in us,
That this baby will make the world better.
Messiah will be created by love,
Will give to evil from Good answer.
But everyone came by the same way
In the world as innocent baby.
That’s why don’t look for the idol,
Become the ideal by yourself.
OLD AND NEW 4 : CONTINUE TO SING
Sipping cold champagne in silver
cuff links at Thai restaurants
eating red curried prawns
while workers gape at
former leaders sold
Forlorn women starve
in naked hospital corridors
rulers drool in blue pools
with pink jewelled lovers
Rushing from airport to airport
bargaining for who knows
On plains of poverty children
whimper bony arms in
tattered sad sleeves
Slick smiles in linen jackets
mansions highly securitied
Ideals trickling through loamy soil
deep it will surely root anew
Waves upon waves descend
embracing hills with a roar
and throaty directions
to stop senseless hacking
Life rebirths from an unknown hole
Continue to softly sing simple
songs of freedom
exhale from a glittering axis
knowing sacred geometry
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1998
PLATONIC IDEALS
draped
in startling beauty
so elegant
sensing
colour
sunflower gold
& buttery yellow
in enticings
glimmers of
flame &scarlet
green & blue
a little
a little
intuitive
&placed
in myth
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
The idea of ideals sits inside
Those things to remember and not be denied
They are tied to each other being strong
That have been thought through all along
I look to live through them you see
If I am a success in what I’ll finally be
For those ideals are easy for me to write
But harder to live by in my search for the light
For my judgement may be flawed in the end
And when judged maybe hard to defend
I am sure people like Hitler thought they were right
So a point of view is important in your fight
So in the end how do I know my ideals are correct
That will stand tall and be so erect
Being in the right can be so subjective
And knowing what’s right can be so objective.
© Paul Warren Poetry
My fellow human,
What would we be without ideals in our lives
But
Wild animals striving their bellies to replenish?
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 January 2021
Picturesque and simple with sweet little windows,
Tidy guestrooms beside stylish bedrooms,
A kitchen straight out of a home catalog,
All contain inside plastic walls.
Blush, copper, teal walls leading to a bathroom,
Cobalt blue hibiscus designs on matching tea sets,
Coordinating furniture in every room.
Delicate and perfect from the roof to the garden.
Impeccable ideal home, a tangible version of home.
A grounded fantasy that profoundly consumes all,
Yearning to live in a dollhouse.
R-ighteous
E-xpression's
X factor
B-rings
R-emarkable
I-deals
O-nce
N-ote
E-ases
S-oul
Topic: Birthday of Bro. Rex Briones (May 02)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Hue Obsessed Ideals
No man my superior
Be, nor inferior
To a degree
When he and I agree
From despair’s begging cups
To wealth’s wanton cusp
When reason dies
All lies turn into flies
But before agreement
Must be interment
There, wherever
Hate scatters its fever
If man in his glory
Basks in infamy
Asks without shame
Why him? All stays the same
But if instead he says
Let us give praise
No matter the hue
For sure, dreams will come true
Hue obsessed ideals kill
Spreading terror still
In blazing fields
Wielding bucklers, and shields
the loftier the ideal we set to attain the readier we ought to be ourselves to sacrifice!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 January 2018
Looking up I see the craggy hills glowing in the sun
way above this green lush valley….smiling I
walk under a mantle of tall trees, skipping
along a path of dense leaves and flowers
The air is filled with the music of nature
the buzzing of the bees as they go about their toil.
Clicking noises of the crickets and other insects
breaking the peace but enhances the atmosphere
Brushing against the lavender shrubs, as I walk
filling the air with a scintillating perfume.
Running my fingers through the flowers
raising them to my nose, so pungent, nature at its best.
This valley was once between two coal stacks
Until the day the pits were closed.
Nature has returned it to its former glory
A place of beauty and peaceful ideals
Penned 29 September 2017
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.