patriot
loyal, proud
honoring, praising, saluting
USA, soldier, criminal, miscreant
deceiving, dissembling, hustling
crooked, cagey
traitor
Always betrayal
Confused dishearted
Each fruitful goal
Have imbecile jabber knowledge
Loving miscreant
Never opulent
Progressive quarrels
Retaliate silly
Too unhappy
Vyingly wanders
Gargoyles watching from rooftop corners
Casting an evil eye on every miscreant.
Guarding the premises with contempt.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Some still say repentant combatants can’t change,
Though thought to be tamed, they tread a thin track.
When many men mock them, madden, and malign,
They charge with chained choler, yet sworn they stay still.
Fighting foes find few among people preaching peace,
Before battles, they brood, bound by belief.
For futures frame fates none should tether with tears,
While miscreant multitudes menace, unmoved.
Yet years yield younger youths yearning for clear change,
While some soldiers still battle before bold chiefs,
Who wait with well-wrought wisdom, woven in their hearts,
And teach these truths to teenagers in tents.
They need no news anew to nourish their truths;
They tell them to teachers teaching timeless tales.
Some still see storms of sorrow shaking them,
While we wait, they torture their truths with tears—
Torments that mar mortal minds with mournful wails.
the whispers were barely perceptible
there was scuffling and shuffling
were ghosts up here then?
I took a peek expecting to see people
there was a steampunk like robot facing the door
his eyes were made of hubcaps and he had coils for legs
who made this? And when? It was curious to me.
I halfway expected this robot to move.
there was a brocade tapestry hanging behind the robot.
dark in color, scarlet or deep forest green, impossible to say.
the threads could have been gold.
Wait, it might have been an old velvet crazy quilt.
The darkness of the room hampered me getting it right.
I saw a hobby horse, leaning against a two-seated couch.
One of those crazy ones where you faced each other.
Who lived in this place? I was thinking Jules Verne.
Or Poe. Or a Victorian miscreant. This is a strange place.
a creepy place. there was a stuffed raven in the corner.
With yellow glass eyes.
Definitely Poe.
“I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank.” ? Langston Hughes
She ambled down the perfumed garden
as the moon rose high in the darkening sky,
Stygian night was falling rapidly,
Dark clouds rushed up high, hiding the moon.
A fine drizzle of rain began. She cared not.
Fragrant was the night so full of blooms,
but she went to the cool stream that ran nigh.
She undressed and jumped though she could not swim,
hoping that her soul would die in the rippling flow,
Perhaps she could rid herself of the heat in her head?
Was it not the fault of that the miscreant, betraying cheat?
Placed 1
I thought I could hear, that deviant sound
of eerie boots, disobedient ground
Wearing disguises
Sharing surprises
Jack-Lantern, miscreant, boys are around
his miscreant philosophy was easily seen that day
he held his wormwood tea in an irritating way
diffident cousins were totally intimidated by Jim
his duende charm sort of knocked them on their chin
I held great grandma’s zither in my non-musical lap
Jim’s sister trivial complaint about this was a bit of crap
the timbre of this instrument will amaze you, I said.
I said this without hesitation, feeling confident as Ned.
Ned is my gay cousin, who came dressed in red and teal.
He always says the funniest things, at every single meal.
It would be seismic if we relatives could all get along each time.
my grandpa, an erudite writer asked me if I know how to rhyme.
I am unsure why I put myself here, but they are my kin I guess.
Today I am here to honor, my recently deceased cousin Tess.
Aunt Cherie is cavil, complaining about straws that are yellow.
I roll my eyes and smile at my new date, a tolerant good fellow.
Why did little Tommy Tucker
Have to sing for his supper?
Did he stammer and stutter
To merit just bread and butter?
And what miscreant oaf
Would then give him a loaf
But nary a knife to cut through it?
Didn't Tom have enough strife
In his life with no wife,
Or did fat spread on starch
Help him chew it?
The ghosts of past misdemeanours haunt me
chaining me to misery and greed,
a grotesque whispering of witless guilt
that stifles the sublime of the soul.
Damned demons howl around me,
frolicking in a deadly dance,
trying to put an incision on my brow :
“This miscreant belongs to us.”
The night grows nasty and terrifying,
wolves wail a woeful weeping song,
abominable bats blast off sucking blood,
and putrid smells block my nostrils with decay.
Suddenly a wayward wind dispels the clouds,
stars shine brightly up above.
A full moon shines through darkened trees,
a ray of mercy envelops my soul.
Hope lights my suffering soul.
I remember my mother's advice.
God created you to love and be loved.
Who can love me? I ask.
Why He who created me....and you!
I am an early riser, usually between 4 and 5 a.m.
That's my quiet time for reading, and thinking,
And sometimes writing.
I especially enjoy it when,
After a pre-dawn shower,
I can look out my window and see,
In the apricot light of dawn,
To the spattering applause of rain,
The miscreant predatory night
Being borne reluctantly away
In manacles of rainbows.
Breaking ground, well trodden path,
boiling cauldron of troubles past.
Injecting theories, humanities veins,
cryptic messages to dispatch.
Puzzling pieces, testing fit,
exploit emotions, effects are best.
Impel the masses, blind ignorance,
dismiss dissenters from public view,
construct the stories, elected few.
Orchestrate, a mind control,
obedient throngs, the unstated goal.
Colonoscopy
Colonoscopy,
strikes dread. It’s not too bad - when
Colon trouble free.
Jules Verne-like travel,
up your ****, spelunking through
strange, pink-ridged caverns.
Hunting for the snark,
or boojum, or polyp, who
feasts, darkly, in there.
Snipety-snap - jaws,
polyp-snatch; dragging from view,
miscreant tissue.
Pathology dock -
destined. Tried in the morning,
suspected malign.
Tried.. judged innocent.
Callooh! callay! It vanished
softly — my boojum.
two sentinels in winter
watch the frozen wheat field
spy the evil murderer
dragging his innocent victim
Nebraska ground is frozen
two curious crows watch
studying the two-legged miscreant
he shouts his aggravation to the wind
innocent victim is nonmoving
left at the foot of the fence post
two sentinels feel relief
when evil scoundrel leaves
If you don’t mind being my guest,
Then you'll understand my plight and quest,
Come through my door,
Then you'll know me for sure.
How do I make you understand my sojourn,
If you can't go beyond this walled region,
Only if you can travel to my inside,
Then you'll comprehend me on the outside.
My midnight is recalcitrant,
It is an obstinate miscreant,
My chamber is a raging tempest,
Unsettled waters, willful to take a rest.
You ask for a detailed description,
I'm a book with an inscription,
It says, “Dig into the pages,
Then you’ll know how much it rages.”
January 24, 2023.
How Do You Feel Poetry Contest,
Mystic Rose Rose.
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.