Number 1 Poems - Poems about Number 1

poem number 5 from poetica ads

                           Silver A is the slot this wet morning
                    

poem number 4 from poetica ads

                                                   it’s still brick
 

poem number 2 from poetica ads

                                 in the foundry
                   

World's number one and two in batting's Who's Who

Yorkshire’s blessed treasure chest best take their Test berth as they surf the crest out on the hallowed turf

The self anointed..God’s own country..didn’t rest..hasn’t disappointed..simple ploy

Plucky…lucky to be an envoy that still has the joy..zest of a boy

The honed treacle toned timbre of their timber toy


Well when you’ve researched the top of the queue in

poem number 10 from saltmilk

… do you love me, woman
it is cloudy in this street             
as that sandalwood perfume
stretching between our arms
here everything of it is gone       
with the floods and good


you are the only tree left behind
and love is the

Flight Number Hiku 1399

.                                                      *

where is the other number

number to call in case you are mad
but what if you are glad? what if you are glad?
You may call it also if you are sad
But where is the number to call if you are glad?

Horror Poem Number Two

The razor;
It slipped
Leading to 
Unexpected consequences.

The redness 
Splashed and spread,
Splashed and spread.

Horror Poem Number One

Driving down the black tongue
Of the desert highway
Mirages rise
Like pools of water on the highway
Reflecting even the sky beneath

 Suddenly, a darkness arises
A flatness on the pale horizon;
There is no time or purpose to slow down -
It rises, and engulphes the world 

We move into it
And it

Love Mineral Number Twenty Three

Te quiero , I love You,Ti amo,
there have been
songs endearing
some worth sharing
some I dare not
romantic lyrics
sounds you hear it
I Love You sounds great
when your the number one guy
tell me I love you
when I'm bruised by 
your loving
and I'll ask myself why
Fussing and cussing all about
with a tear in my eye
and you say I'm foolish
and I

Lover Number 32, or was it 38

You were a poem with bad grammar.
I revised you in my mind
until your hands almost made sense.

You touched me like punctuation—
brief, deliberate,
never intending to be part of the plot.
And I let you,
because absence feels cleaner than false presence.

Another name in the drawer.
Another night I slept skinless.
The body is so forgiving
when you lie to it beautifully.

Broccoli, Brussel And Cuke

If in all innocence
broccoli brings out flatulence
not to dwell but how many unfortunate smells
will it impart from a single floret
and in the end when it rends
does it sound like a bassoon or clarinet?
And what about the brussel sprout?
No doubt it will create heady fallout
and if on the quiet you ever diet or fast
as you are

Contestant Number Twenty Won

CATOGORY LOVE
-------------------------
 to inspire:  Capsaicin Anaheim
__________________
It completes the sound
it makes itself perfect
it's recommended to those who who love
and those aspire to be loved

I must apologize
I became bored with you
knowing what you'd say often
lead me to be with others
It's exactly what you think
and true to form
might you forgive me
that I shall heed Cupids
call might you

Nothing But A Number

Nothing But A Number!

Don’t speak of sorrow, don’t pretend..
You were no lover, not a friend.
I gave you chances through every tear..
You traded love for someone near.

You lied with ease, you cheated more..
While I stood aching at your door.
Tanya in Denmark, then Laura’s bed..
You stitched your guilt where I bled.

You spun your tales and smiled wide..
While

Confessional Booth Number 9

Streetlight dander. Jawbone asphalt.
Blink razors carve her iris script.
Rib stars ovulate in feral grates,
mechanical tongue juts a bloodline breath.
Keystroke ruin writes in collapse,
a waveform lodged in sternum glass.
Lipsticked rodeo—a gash in faded denim
Banana-knuckled hands torch filterless ghosts.

Tree-call through copper root systems.
Wire-pluck storm,
vapor chews the stock market 
Cancer caught in molar hush,
brined in citrine static.

She opens

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