But alas; sometimes I think we've lost our way-
too many strayed opinions...one too many a survey.
Walking on the road ahead, just following the herd of sheep-
with a hypnotised mind, wide awake yet very fast asleep.
While yelling...join the team of the future progressiveness-
but if you don`t your old fashion, head full of mindlessness.
The enchanting light, a blinding fantasy world-
is a place where viewpoints, twisted and whirled.
The lights words spoken from an over opinionated mind-
but it is taken as the whole truth for one, and all of mankind.
Their flags are waved high, as they scream and chant=
to join with this new order of things, many just can`t.
It`s a path they want us to heavily tread-
but it`s a needle many, don`t want to thread.
With all our differences we live in a blended pot-
so to boil it too fast...we risk spoiling the lot.
The older generation think it's a movement like a hypnotising cult-
and their minds have been struck down by a thunderous lightning bolt.
The generation of now say "your way too old to understand, Mr Boomer"-
but the boomers say "your so out of touch, with no sense of humour.
Toxic people make me laugh
10 years on they're just as daft
thought maybe they’d change their act
but they're stuck on this simple path
they never learn from their mistakes
accelerating when they should brake
completely false completely fake
single dumb but think they're great
doing what they’ve always done
just as stupid just as dumb
manipulating everyone
no sense of humour no sense of fun
the unlovable unlikeable simpleton
an above the law spiteful singleton
must be a punishment put on them
cheers you up though, you aint one
Sourpuss People
Sourpuss people are the opposite of sweet
And can turn a sunny day into mincemeat.
Their smiles are forced and bitterly insincere,
Revealing no sense of humour or good cheer.
They sneer and wink and chatter behind your back
And rain on your parade every chance they get,
Complaining and griping about this and that
While arguing with nothing good to extract.
Their cold hearts are mean because they seek power
And bully others like they’re chopped liver.
And though it’s wrong to get mad and retaliate,
Sometimes lines are drawn when there’s no other way.
It’s incorrect behaviour to fight with them
Because others might not see the difference.
I suppose I’m a poetic clown
I’m content with life, I don’t get down
And I’ll deny the rumour
Brits have no sense of humour
This injustice will sure make me frown
I confirm I’m not much of a poet
My writing style sucks and I know it
I use silly words
Like boobies and turds
I amuse folks just by using my wit
In reality I’m pretty quiet
And I’ve never been tempted to diet
I am a mother and wife
And I just cherish my life
You won’t find me out causing a riot
Contest Who do you think you are
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
8/27/18
I once dated a pilot …
We both had our head in the clouds
Our relationship lead to a lot of turbulence -
I guess it never really got off the ground!
I once dated a glazier…
He thought I would be putty in his hands
But I could see right through him…
He was constantly smashed
I once dated an undertaker…
He knew he had stiff competition
I couldn’t cope - he was always ‘coffin’ when he picked me up in his hearse
He had no sense of humour in fact he was dead boring
I once dated an angler
The thought he was a real catch…
But the scales soon fell from my eyes
As he was obsessed with his flies
I once dated a footballer
He thought he could score with me
Told me he had great tackle…
But it was just a load of balls
I once dated a fishmonger…
He thought he was cod’s gift to women
He invited me back to his plaice…
Where I found out he was really a cold fish
Submitted to 101 poems in a row
Sponsored by PD Linda:-)
15th April 2016
My favourite poetry form is rhyme
Love to write in rhyme at any time
My aim is to try and make you smile
If I succeed it is all worthwhile
I work hard to dispel the rumour
Brits have no sense of humour
In my eyes there’s nothing worse
Than a half rhymed attempt at verse
If it's forced and doesn’t make sense
To me this a poetical offence
We all enjoy writing in a different style
I’m learning new forms all the while
What suits one may not suit another
I still have so much to learn and discover
The most important thing is I started writing
Reading poems by others is so very exciting
10~30~15
Contest - what is your favourite poem form
Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
With my cap on my head and my satchel in hand
I set off one day for a strange foreign land
No more for me my comfy first school
I was off to a place where REAL learning did rule
My old junior school was just down the road
Perhaps half a mile from my parent's abode
Where once I could walk there without any fuss
now the journey, for me, was by bike or by bus
That first day of 'big' school I remember so well
Standing outside to wait for the bell
They herded us first years into a big hall
where we stood looking lost to await the roll call
One after another they sorted us out
I hadn't a clue what 'twas all about
Into our classrooms we were all lead
where, for our teacher, we waited in dread
At last he arrived dressed in mortar and gown
No smile on his face, just a very stern frown
'Alright you boys', he said with a sneer
'My name is Joslin, I'm your form master this year'
He looked like a skeleton, thin and quite tall
No sense of humour did he have at all
Jack Joslin his name, but known as 'The Ripper'
His weapon of choice was a well worn gym slipper
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.