Poem of the day may not be poem of the day
Poem of the week may not be poem of the week
Poem of the month may not be poem of the month
Poem of the year may not poem of the year
Personal taste, view, decision
In conclusion, they are not facts.
Thanks for reading!
Ignoring those slaughters,
as if there were none.
But one of your daughters
Were always son.
Simce pre-school,
hating all girl toys,
Even though he acted like a fool,
Always was one of the boys.
Confused child,
With mess in his head.
Worthless maybe kinda wild,
Fantasising about his death.
How lovely, I want to find peace.
Honestly I don't think I can.
I wish seken would not call me "miss"
I wish I could be 'real man'
Nothing. Just ignorance.
Humanity is organisation filled with idiots.
Cause they don't let me finish one sentence.
They ask questions, but in the end they write dots.
I'm tired. I want to cry.
Im not sane, can't see no consequence.
I think would kill myself, and die.
I think I would, if I had a chance.
I would drown myself down the river,
I would feel the cold water, as it soaks my clothes.
I would feel comfortable, I wouldn't shiver,
My hair would feel easy as it floats.
What? No I'm not writing about my own suicide.
It feels like speaking to the deaf people, that are dead.
So please, step aside,
And forget everything I said.
True Or Not Poem
Isn't Life Just a Test
On How Best To Avoid Death
For as long as we can?
After all we are just Man
But I salute the women
Who keep us sane from our Omens
DAMO x
To call it a poem and to pen it in a baroque form and style
is to abuse carte blanche to express and bring forth a reader’s bile;
avant-garde works that break traditions may appeal for a while
but if its sole aim is to create an anomaly it may find home in a junk pile.
Emotion and Experience that gets its bona fide expressions born
in a poem fresh are meant not to give a déjà vu feel all over again;
may be this is a lone voice of a dilettante poet unknown
unable to write with such élan that it is not poem high-flown;
but I am sure this is not a cacophony of words thrown
to get out of my ennui, so here are my thoughts on poetry shown.
16-Jan-2018
Contest: Ten words ten lines 2
Sponsored by: Silent One
Totally Triumphant King
Was Martin King middle name Luther
Who we understand had been a roofer;
Trouble trying to get to the bottom of,
While living in country all full of love.
What he had seen from roof so tall;
Objects below that seemed so small;
People all full of spirit and emotion,
Confused by the much commotion.
All the things that God does forbid,
Should try to destroy and of get rid;
In Capital sin is continually growing,
King set example and it was showing.
Jim Horn
Even though this is not poem of the day,
Be sure and send to everyone anyway.
If you do, then I can forward it to all of
my friends and put on FaceBook.
1) Write something
2) Read it
3) Change something
4) Read it
5) Re-read it
6) Change it some more
7) Read it some more
8) Go away from it for a while
9) Come back to it
10) Add punctuation
11) PUBLISH IT
12) Find a typo
I am not the Countryside
drowned in whispers of sorrow
I am not the Great Owl
silenced in the cloak of darkness
I am not the Moon
one single pale eye
watching over all
I am not Fierce River
roaring roars of anger
I am not the Racoon
intruder to all
I am not a lot of things-
but most of all-
i am not this "I Am Not" poem- saying things I am not
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.