Our fridge is quite the crazy scene
in hopes my girl will eat.
Miss Judy brings juiced tangerines;
a glass is such a treat!
My girl is not a fan, it seems,
of watermelon-lime,
but as for me, I’ve high esteem:
so nuanced and sublime!
Our freezer’s stocked with sorbets now,
hope it’s not untoward,
but secretly, there’s one or two
I hope my girl abhors.
I try to avoid them in the crisp morning light,
but I hastily sink into their mud-caked bottoms.
I sink to my knees in their inevitable stratum.
One after another, beyond memory or thought,
swirling pools of consciousness unspoken.
Parallel immersive mythos together and unbroken.
Heavy here, my trudge from pond to pond,
egoless consciousness watches with detachment.
My fledgling demanding acts are persistent.
My emotions are unwitting and hand-crafted.
These ponds of my making create schemas
from hormones and perceptual appraisals.
I plod through stages of deepening awareness.
From weeping to laughter, I feel each nuanced valence.
Though I try to resist them again and again,
these are my schemas, my reckoned inventions.
Like a roaming wolf or a squirrel poised in a tree,
these emotional appraisals are my intentions.
These spontaneously self-organizing feelings
are my defenses, and my epiphanies of universal marvel
as egoless consciousness awaits, unspoken.
MEASURES OF PREFERENCES
a restrictive
repeatedly
lasting
influence
of
luminous
niche-like
significance
encircled
stylized
illusions
&clarity
of
intentions
with
nuanced
coincidences
ENCOMIUM EXCELLENCE-:-
splendour
presents
tasteful
coloured
epthets
so NUANCED
appealing
illusions
avail
different
memories
in SIMPLE PROMPTS
complex
extensive
reportoires
culturally
characterised
PROFOUND AND PRACTICAL
proliferating
synthetic
properties
beyond
perceptual
examination
detailed
nuanced
complementary
spatial
simultaneously
vividly
overlaid
with
elaborate
symbolic
connotations
stimulated
exploited
with
experimental
preferences
saturated
&
nourished
by
focused
instinct
&
awareness
in
a
sustained
if
divided
touch
saturating
individual
consciousness
Quantifying Poetry
Poetry is idoneous – the perfect fit!
We feel the beating heart of an emotion,
absorb or express that feeling
in a nuanced format of language
that can offer a profound satisfaction.
You watch, you listen, you learn
filtering creative thoughts into a structure
that is conceived in a framework on the page.
Gradually there is removal of scaffolding
and a brevity, clarity in word distillation;
the losing of the loose change.
You continually reach for best words, best order
until you have poetic form that offers
an edifice that is poignant, elegant or humorous
while dancing to the rhythm of the words.
A sense you have drawn up an emotion
from the expansive well of language
that is encapsulated in a poem
and, hopefully, one that is truly felt.
It doesn’t take a week to read a poem
but it can take a week, or a lifetime,
to appreciate and savour it.
Poetry allows us to speak;
occasionally it empowers us to fly.
PERCEVING SENSITIVITY
expressed
in
effective
nuanced
promising
panoramics
articulating
uncounted
the
undiminished
steadfast
inexplicable
&
obscure
within
awoken
conscience
feelings
in
character
overshadowed
with
difficulties
of
vital
yet
anonymous
existence
Whimsical wishes for springtime fun
Eager to tan my skin in the yellow sun
Emerald kite bounces beneath blue sky
Kissing white clouds as red birds fly by
Elegant art of painters poets photographers
Nuanced views in pretty pictures and words
Dancing on pupils and in every ear heard
PRESENCE OF NATURE
visually
learned
lessons
theories
nuanced
in VISIBLE PHENOMENA
characteristic
individual
essence
demarcated
absolutes
of a GENRE HIERARCHY
subjectively
sensed
impulses
mingled
metaphorically
A poet exposes scenes to explore new horizons
unfolding under expansive or confining domes
We slow it down, decelerate, discern
unveiling are a fable's morals and concerns
taking pause to commune with fauna and elm
serenely does nature speak throughout her realm
our phrases linger with new colors
hues vibrant encompass as skylines
our dimensions broaden anew
sentences chosen carefully carry more import
with words nuanced, renewed
with a more sentient bite
with emotions more candid
abashedly bare, a despair founded
with paroxysm of catharsis we quill
weeping of our dormant essence shaken to life
confessions deepening, plunging in thought
letting the afflatus of passion flow
I Am Anaya
quill & inkwell love
11/14/25
Tiptoe the finest, fine twine, needle-eyed thread
and a glitzy sequined clasp, tiny
tweezer-tie it finger-tip fast with a nuanced knot -
my, my, the pedantic perfection of the master jeweller.
I have the servile subtlety of thick thumbs,
all clumbsy carpals, my fudging finesse
better suited to a beanie'd stevedore, loud lugging
heavy-haired harbour rope to ship-secure
a brutish lump in the line.
Tongue tied up, spun on my own silver yarn
like a crystal jeweller, giddy with champagne giggles,
dizzy on a spinning chandelier high strung from the pressed ceiling.
Oh non, pas moi! Mine is more an oiled elegance,
heavy handed, ham-fisted like a scabby wharf rat,
chased and unchaste.
Dextrous in the strangest ways -
gutsy and glamourous,
ours is a nuanced life of grunting grime
with the briefest flashes of bedazzled dance.
Green, that enraptured hue scape a blooming quilt,
goodness gracious am I gracious for being that tint,
to loiter breezily amid the luscious woodland habitat,
as this green chameleon spring spree now ubiquitous,
I am that maestro metaphor for wild adornment rife,
whilst trailing pots, urns and archways in deft design,
green hedges, lawns, verges, meadows, trees I bless,
am I that arch victim of my mint leaf fragrant fetish?
a dash of humour surely counts as nuanced shade,
so I’m “GREENING” from ear to ear - could not resist!
Guiding
Understanding
Inspiring
Devotion,
Awesome
Nuanced
Comforting
Evangelism.
I’m in Inner Voice.
My name is Craig.
I get paid 55 an hour by the Heaven Cloud Company.
We’re not angels.
We’re suggesters.
(Angels get paid way more.)
Our job is nuanced, nudging,
Exacting, and exhausting.
For instance,
With the moon hung high
I come home to my wife:
Tired, blurried-eyed and warm in bed
She asks slipping into silk covers
How my day was.
It was a disaster.
I was batting .300 in baseball terms.
“Hittin’ 30% of the time babe.”
I crawled in beside her
With the weary weakness
Of a wounded animal.
“That doesn’t seem super effective.”
She coiled into me with with her
Wonderfully contrasting perspective.
I laid on my back looking up at our Ceiling Dream Fan
Rotating rapidly on the above and let out:
“It’s like screaming through a cloud."
“No cloud here,” she whispered at the top of my neck,
Kissing me on some immaculate speck of a spot
Between my neck and ear.
The music from an award’s show for music
Shatters the peace of a moment’s respite
Words shouted in a rattled cadence
Battle the blaring of the backup screamers
The allegedly soothing refrain chokes the drummer
Freeing the flames of the screeching viola
A lone piano grits its vibrating teeth
The lead singer shivers in a nuanced
Tribute to the Kama Sutra
AH….MUSIC….
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.