I’ve written many forms of verse
Sometimes bad…sometimes worse
For poetry it seems….a curse
Word shopping with an empty purse
For years before I ever spoke
My poetic crayons broke
The dog ate two, several melted
Yet, without voice I truly felt it
By accident I wrote a Sonnet
‘bout an unseen passing comet
The colors set the page ablaze
In passage through the crayon phase
I now share on silent keys
My Crayola memories
Etched in ever-changing lies
For no one truly owns their skies
So be it crayon, keys, or pen
A search for forever’s now and then
Give thanks for crayon’s simple truth
The poet never outgrows youth
They cradle absence in inherited creed,
A sculpted sky of words they never test,
Where certainty outgrows the need to read
The fine-print silence lurking in each rest.
They build a Heaven stitched from stolen light,
A fragile citadel of borrowed breath,
Where doubt is taught to bow and step from sight,
And fear is softened into faith till death.
For Heaven lives in language, not in ground,
A story tuned to quiet human dread,
A place that only ever can be found
Within the living, not among the dead.
And when the final pulse gives out its claim,
No gates unbar, no choir bends the air;
Just vast unlit indifference, no name,
Where belief fades into a wordless stare.
are in the subjective eyes
of lonely-hearted
women like me
whom identify the imperfections
of pollen-coated surfaces
where the still water lies
before June
has made it too hot
for thought and reflection
I can clearly see the ripples,
the wrinkled clarity
where ducks
and water birds
disturb the calm
of a perfect surface
for their babies
mighty splashings
I see the remnants of yesterday
peeking through
and the remains of myself
I will try for tomorrow
recycle hope
and I won't cut my hair
when it outgrows its time
because I love the history
these are the keepers
the dead bits
of myself
Requiem in D Minor
is playing
and I am listening
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The seed planted in frozen earth now grows,
through storms and time, its tender stems arose.
Once choked by thorns, stubborn, toward light it goes,
No pleas for light—it takes what sun bestows.
The moth unfurls from silk it once outgrows,
the river carves the rock, no hammer slows.
Wounds I wore now bloom in the vein I chose,
old meanings dissolve where deeper Knowing flows.
Stars fade as night gives way to dawn’s quiet repose~
my former self decays, unmourns, and does expose
my ego, that internal script that age and turbulence depose.
soul reshaped—my life is now stunning prose.
No toys to play with,
she draws dolls on the dry soil
with soft soiled fingers.
The pale face is drenched,
not by joyous summer rain.
Is it dripping tears?
The sad wet eyes graze
on mother’s wilted body,
age drained before time.
Cute girl of sixteen,
doesn’t see the hues of sunrise,
sleep sags the eyelids.
She drags fragile feet,
goes out with mother to work,
holding her frail hands.
Are these only hope?
Feels the touch of scant safety,
childhood demolished.
Days in and days out,
she labors with her mother
working as a maid.
In her mangled mind,
ruined by storm of harsh times,
she outgrows her age.
The dreams of the child have died.
The computer era, indeed, has marred you and the pen,
A romantic feeling, when I think of you, fills my mind;
Will those Calligraphic times, the writers loved, come again?
Wherein, a feeling of hand-to-heart touch, the poets could find...!
Feathers in red, green, blue, black, white, brown, yellow, and maroon,
Or like the rainbow multicolored single quill well used;
Your existence before devising of pen was a boon,
In you was the enchantment of vivid bird species fused...!
A satisfying dip... lo, your magnetic-pulled words flow,
Like a fountain, forming floras and faunas of annals;
As you curve and wind like the music outgrows your tempo,
Words and thoughts fill, spill, and thrill like irrigation channels...!
You have turned a decorative piece owing timely change,
Your gifts, yet, to humanity have been beyond all range...!!!
Sitting at a bus shelter
hoodie baby, skinny, drab,
denim-discount,
elfin face,
the nose ring an ugly stigmata.
She's been staring at empty walls lately,
I can tell, I’ve stared at those same walls.
I am guessing the weight of her solitude
will not decrease anytime soon.
I want to tell her that life
outgrows itself, blooms and becomes.
but I’m all out of bs. today.
Fate was cruel when you broke down the walls
I’ve never been shattered in midst of the rainfall
Was my life meant to be celebrated with love and joy?
As hasty as a thief, you took away gaiety; left the lost boy.
Nix of your shadow, a nick of your smile,
Only in good night, I see you in life once in a while.
Fury was my ally but was never my best friend,
What remains true is my hope; outgrows in the end.
Behind the window curtains, I spelled out your name.
Watching outside my dried leaves that are wistfully aflame.
A figment of my thinking becomes an archaic chance
To see my living folklore alive; my family romance.
Lei Strauss 2021
( a father's day poem)
Sitting at a bus shelter - skinny hoodie baby,
denim-discount - sad little figure,
Elfin faced even with the nose ring.
I know this stranger.
Her alien eyes search for other alien eyes.
She's been staring at empty walls lately,
I can tell, I’ve stared at those same walls.
I’m guessing
the weight of her solitude will increase.
I hope she finds someone to be with
who understands.
I want to tell her that life
outgrows itself, blooms and becomes -
but
just walk on by.
Coordinates require input, chance comes coincidentally,
Rendezvous a meeting point, your wandering aimlessly,
Vector on interception course, we cross paths randomly
Anticipation is foresight, I never imagined such beauty,
Innocent palpitations strike, overwhelmed by nubility,
Calibration nonessential, elegance exudes so naturally,
Reason is the difficult part, am I thinking irrationally,
Infatuation happens, pubescence outgrows captivity,
Desire lost in translation, god what is happening me,
Cannot understand, attractions growing exponentially,
Resistance futile, unconditional surrender I give freely,
Stay a little longer, for I’m helpless through invisibility,
Somehow you went away, disappearing into obscurity,
My only confession now, is yearning a crushed fantasy.
By David Kavanagh
In sunlights defilade
weed outgrows the plant
and marshmallowed clouds
dissipate in whispered wisps
owed was freely given
and crested wave
beckoned burning shoe less feet
The Shrinking Season
by Michael R. Burch
With every wearying year
the weight of the winter grows
and while the schoolgirl outgrows
her clothes,
the widow disappears
in hers.
Originally published by Angle
Keywords/Tags: Time, Year, Years, Weight, Wait, Waiting, Weary, Wearying, Winter, Girl, Schoolgirl, Clothes, Grow, Grows, Outgrows, Outgrowing, Widow, Disappear, Disappears, Disappearing, Age, Aging, Loss, Death
Sitting at a bus shelter
hoodie baby, skinny, drab,
denim-discount.
She could be a female me fifty years ago.
Elfin face, the nose ring an ugly brand,
then again I'm an old bull - my nose ring
is invisible.
The kid has a standout feature of mine;
alien eyes that always must seek out more alien eyes.
She's been staring at empty walls lately,
I can tell, I’ve been staring
at those same walls.
I am guessing the weight of her solitude will increase.
I hope she finds someone to be with,
to share the load.
I want to tell her that life
outgrows itself, blooms and becomes.
Yet I know she will see through my lies -
she has my eyes.
Sunshine and Showers
Gardener stands with a watering can,
in hand. Sunshine and showers begin
with a drizzle on forgotten flowers,
refresh from the rain showers.
Patience, time doth thy beauty does also grow,
always very slow, sunshine does show.
Gardener towers with song during evening hours, shy,
it lightly falls, rain from the sky.
On summer's windswept day,
creation took clean away.
On faces so fondly strain,
up towards the sunshine rain.
Through lacy and delicate Lilac tree,
showers wet the bowers familiar filigree.
It's ever rare, and wondrous there,
the summer sun dries each upturn faces, it does dare.
Garden's magic, through the sunny hours
tend outgrows his flowers
and hid away from his divine
gardener, tends to shine.
2/20/2018
Words cannot go where joy finds space,
Feel knows a glow in simple grace.
Words try yet fail to tell of smiles,
Feel you avail in poise that styles.
Words speak of thought yet fail to bridge,
Feel outlives plot to breeze the ridge.
Words cannot stay where impulse flings,
Feel outgrows say to live fond spring.
Leon Enriquez
24 September 2015
Singapore
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.