With a K or maybe a C is often misspelt
Leprechaun sworn torn from green felt
Billiard baize suit worn with a big belt
Scorn cliches like Romans Cornish pelt
Taffs...the Jocks or Shamrocks smelt
In foreign lands so many have dwelt
Velvet villainy Galician or Brittany C/Kelt
Falter but not at Catholic altar knelt
Riff raffs playing the cards we're dealt
Life & death debacle glued a shoe's welt
Riddles tango with fiddles so heartfelt
Calms disarms always buxom not svelte
Lovers then in each others arms melt
No qualms rascal sparkle charms of a Celt
Classical is from the Middle Ages
in the mid-1940's we had Bebop
a fast-tempo 19th / 20th century Jazz
then along came Doo-wop
with group harmonies
the 50's brought us rock and roll
which developed the 1960's
(sad to say) Disco and its glitter ball
then psychedelic pop rock
blues and folk rock
and in the 1970's it was Hip-hop
and also Rap
which was misspelt
it should read 'Crap'
the 1980's were synthesised
1990's gave us Garage and Grunge
2020's saw online streaming
by the record industry which makes me cringe
Country music (C&W) too (hit or flop)
I know it's true I left out (Reggae) more than a few
but no matter the genre tempo or key
the self-same seven notes do it for eclectic me
In dream last night when I talked to AI,
Our dialogue went on back and forth like this:
I said, look, we see what we like well nigh,
Hope, you’re not held with such human disease.
We can read misspelt words as fair and right,
I hope, you’ve acquired this ability--
To ignore what might fail to conform quite,
We can mute what distorts the harmony.
Wait, you see no more than twenty percent,
AI claimed, and make up from memory.
Is that so bad? I asked unrepentant
And this round ended to no one’s glory.
I woke with muezzin’s call at masjid gate,
The dream ended awaiting next date.
______________________________
Sonnet |16.07.2025| dream, technology
Note: AI= artificial intelligence, HI= human intelligence
Misspelt poems mangle the message,
dealt a blow by a careless edit;
Svelte pen but could not match the approach,
felt you were done but did not see it;
When you’re lucky you get the wordplay,
jasmine doesn’t flow like the jazz men;
Again that’s just not how it works out;
Been there, mind spellcheck pay attention.
They are playing hard this time,
and all these broken pieces of shades and stones are thrown away,
and all these papers and chapters are enforced to get away,
into our homes and castles.
This time,
yet they call it another day of justice,
just like how they count one to nine without a doubt,
just like how they spell your name and my name without a misspelt .
How was that possible,
to walk across these empty streets without people calling out our names,
to sign an agreement without a pen and a paper.
This time,
yet they call it another day of submission,
just like how they count one to seven without a regret,
just like how they spell everyone's names without a mistake.
I’ve seen wretched souls
fall poorer by stealth
I’ve seen frail old people
endure pain as they knelt
Climbing mountains barefoot
pilgrimages never stop
A penance for being born
light your candle at the top
I’ve seen false prophets
adorn halls with great wealth
I’ve seen saints being evoked
promising to cure ill health
Down beside the grotto
past where wheelchairs roll
Believers lie prostrate
whilst souvenirs are sold
They beg for miracles
hoping prayers will be felt
Some have their spirits raised
gods name becomes misspelt
Selective interpretations
scriptures bent to suit man
Dogmatic, stern beliefs
hushed silence, vetoes, bans
under forced indoctrination
this mind started to melt
Brainwashed in a classroom
with the strap of a belt
Now feel worthy of nothing
and deserving of it all
I still must climb mountains
but try avoid the brick walls
By David Kavanagh
addded a d as i please
mispelt misspelt
carrried an extra r
mispronounsed mispronounced
elongated should be longer
shrinks don't reduce the poem
they just show you what you didn't know
in every dictionary its always spelled incorrectly
drew your eyes to a drawing drawn of dawn dawning
the parts of light split are so pretty
will i tell you something
something whispered low
the crackled cackle of smirk
the taste of apple candy wrapped
outside writing through my ash
blowing to see the words
misspelt in my dreaming
How lonley A the a stands
Hugging i's like ink tree
what fingers hollow
will i fill
tilted head crooked
next line flows like
the bunched satin curls
seeing snowflakes from within
so what words of wanton
will said
juice you
You carry unseen
Your book of life
White gleaming pages
On which is written
Story of your life!
Do not bend it
Or smudge it
Rip no pages
Or let not any
Falsehood be written
Or truth misspelt!
On these pages
Live the many people
Who live with you
Make no alterations
That may hurt them
Or change their cause
The house, and the car,
Do not go very far,
The medals are false,
And so the applause,
Like a hermit crab’s shell,
Will be looted by all,
On the last page,
Of your story on stage!
So in your mortal flight,
Let truth be your light,
Let not the smoke of passion,
Rob you of your reason,
Keep the book of life,
Clean, correct and nice,
When the final moment arrives,
You are ready to journey
With your unseen book of life!
I feel betrayed... between the clasped
Sweetness the future promises the present
Every now amd then my misfitness matters
With a thousand confusing dreams shatters
Mismatching with the world outside, for
Ever longs the journey to reach doom.
Mitigating every stride, we pace forth
Misleading thoughts mounting up each
Passing day, guiding in the wrong direction
Just we guess! For we're misspelt
Words of creation unknowingly put
Together to undoubtedly separate
As life dare to take its real toll
In this scattering mush, what forth you
Expect to get? Your dreams fulfilled?
Care not, for who cares to correct
A long back misspelt word?
No one knew who wrote them or when,
Like cinema posters that changed at regular intervals,
Misspelt swear words appeared on the wall of the urinal.
Written with moss, coal and laterite
They read sometimes like..
The breeze here is fragrant. Rajiv + Sindhu.
A heart with an arrow through it.
Songs like “Rajan sir and Bhanu teacher are in love guys!”
The walls got covered with writings
In retaliation to the beatings and impositions.
Amidst the stench of **** and urine,
Love blossomed in moss.
The girls’ urinal stood like a temple
Translated to english - Anitha Varma
I sing a song to my lost love
Who’s left this Earth and gone above.
(Or maybe she’s below instead;
Who the hell cares, cuz she’s dead.)
'Tis true she wrote bad poetry,
Wrote verse of opaque complexity,
But I cared not, for her love was true,
Her transgressions, just a few:
Just Mike and Jim and Bryce
And Tom and Dick and Harry (twice);
She did Omar and Hakeem,
(And then she did that football team).
But I forgave her every time;
I forgave her every crime;
I forgave her lousy rhymes;
I forgave her misspelt lines;
I forgave her plagiarism;
Even forgave her symbolism.
But her limericks were just so bad,
So out of form, they drove me mad!
For no matter the many times I roared,
“Only TWO stresses in lines three and four!”
She’d still write lines with many more;
Still wrote those lines with many more!
So of course she had to go
Though the thought did pain me so.
But I still dream of her at night
And in the fading evening light,
And yearn once more to hold and squeeze her
Where she’s stored below in my big freezer.
A Footle Murder Mystery
The sleuth
in truth
Was miffed.
The stiffs,
As such,
Weren’t much;
No clue
In view
To find
This kind
Of crook,
Who took
The stash
Of cash
Then wrote
A note
To tell
How swell
(Misspelt!)
He felt.
“It’s clear,
I fear,
The crime
This time
Was done
By one
Who knew
How few
Are we
Who see
The clues
To use
To solve,
Resolve,
This theft
So deft.”
“But I
Espy
The one
Who done
The deed!
Indeed,
In brief,
The thief
Who slew
These two
Must be….”
And we,
The one
Who done
This crime
Sublime,
Are safe,
Our face
Still hid
Amid
This crowd,
Unbowed.
The sleuth,
And truth,
Is dead
Instead!
This evening sky
Lies low, stalled,
Sowing light,
In surrender.
Insignificant,
Vague verse
Emotions, obscure..
Across the room
Dark clouds gruel.
Misspelt claps,
Rumble pursuit,
Chime of nine.
Indecipherable
Thoughts of mine.
You felt it when you sent your first love letter,
you loved it when you got your first one back.
You smiled when you read that he loved you,
you longed to express that love back.
You laugh at the misspelt words,
and take comfort in his hidden mistakes.
His unsteady writing runs through you,
like your heartbeat, it trembles and shakes.
Your eyes swell at the sight of his name,
as you know the close is near.
You rush back to where he said he loved you,
careful not to smudge with a tear.
You smile when you read it again,
with your thumb caressing his name.
You long over every last word this time,
still knowing that you'll read it again.
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.