Ovals Poems | Examples

Chocolate Eggs

In July, no air cooler will dissipate the heat.
I squeeze the bag, it squishes, like paste within my hand.
The chocolate eggs were perfect, the kind one loves to eat.
April's chocolate ovals now are no longer grand.

Why were these candies put on a shelf three months ago?
A preference for jellies, perhaps may be the cause,
But a springtime gain of weight tells the reason, I know.
The candies weren't unwanted. They just were put on pause.

Standardized Test Taking

Some students finish standardized tests quickly
Others take elaborate amounts of time
My cousin Suzette always finished first
She filled in the oval bubbles with faeries and butterflies
Made elaborate designs that required all of the ovals in a row
If a teacher thought to look at her oval answer sheet she went ballistic.
Reporting her to my aunt, her mother, another teacher.
Luckily my aunt did not put any faith in these tests.

Testing Testing Over Testing

Entertaining myself at work today
Easier if I did not have a glass wall
But I do and I am right across from the sign in sheet.
People see and they scoff.
Probably thinking this is all that I do.
It is all I am doing this week.
The children are testing, testing, testing, testing, and testing.
School used to be fun. Not anymore. We have made sure of that.
Remember how we looked forward to the one BIG test?
The students today have so many little ones, they do not care about it at all.
This is reflected in their scores too. 
Reminds me of my twin sister
Who used to use the ovals on the answer sheet
to make birds, rabbits, roosters and the like.
Which means she had to use an entire row sometimes.
Probably invalidating her test, but she likes entertaining herself too.

Falling Elm Leaves

Falling Leaves Specific to the Elm 

Long before Fall, Elm trees thin their leaves,
And Elm trees are the ones we have plenty of.
Tiny little ovals turn tan and gold and green and drifting,
Riding on hair and clothes to fall off on just gleaming floors.
Not a surprise they cling to the mouth, on your little pet's fur,
They seem to dance a graceful waltz with joy a kick and a swirl.
Then at twilight, sweet breezes usually lie,
And wait to be stirred tomorrow, 
When householders sweep with repetitive dismay,
But wouldn't have it another way.
Sweeping, sweeping, into gold and green piles,
Where home from school, little children play.
Where heaven is to wallow.

Give Me Something Round

Give me something round
Edges to life should be circular
Beware of the elliptic mystery
Rotate your marbles frequently

Give me something spherical
Two hemispheres in harmony
Held together with super glue
Solid to the core and spiraling

Give me something not Michigan
(Round objects are illegal in Michigan)
Balls and clocks are criminal offenses
Cops eat holes but not the donuts

Give me something curled up
Cylindrical in its composition
Rotund but not too obtusely cute
Circumferences should not be too cute

Give me something more articulated
Orbicular to orbiculated would be great
An object that orbits about itself and others
Held in both hands hollowed out loud

Give me something, anything with a shape
As long as it is not cube or rectangular
Squares and lines are grave mistakes
God forgives that which is angular

Give me something other than zeros
There must be light at the end of the tunnel
Ovals become more circular over time
Edges become less... once questioned

Give me moons surrounded by planets
Give me bald women who look ridiculous
We love them anyway from the bottom up
And the universe they came in on

Garden Faeries

Photographs of
Orbs in gardens
Shiny yellow ovals
Attracted to flowers

Faeries and elves
Disguised, flitting
Among the geraniums
And zinnias.

They spread out 
In a gloriously beautiful
Rainbow, prancing on 
Tiny sun-lit unicorns

Imagination smiles
As she creates fanciful
Stories about the faeries

motif mortal -

a thousand orbs bearing, thus
          connected, all, or put to dust

focused photons press the link
          escaping matter's tacit brink

stretched to ovals, masses bent
          horizon robbed of failed events

to stay the sacred horrors, rife
          malevolence for sake of life

yet how much harm is evil dealt
          constrained to feast upon itself?

wonder-spangled void expanse
          sagacity its utter chance ...

marvels, mighty, gone unseen
          matters not that they have been

aesthetics cherished as a breath
          or dreams avail a sentient death.






~ 2nd Place ~  in the "Late Summer Premiere Poetry Contest", Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Fact Or Fiction

6/13/17
"

Better get a grip or slip
In a world where it's hit and miss
Despite any similarites and differences


Involving shapes like diamonds, square, circles and ovals
Above or below buried and unearthed opal
Among what is considered far more than global
Where objects and lifeforms are still or mobile

Multiple outcomes
Before, during and after round one


Bring it into the light, or leave it in the dark
Near and far from any park
As well as any mart
Close and beyond waters with or without shark


Call it fact or fiction
Some want to relate occurences to superstitions
Religions
Or what was seen on televisions

Poems Have Their Verses

Poems have their verses


Blinded by the light
Stood outside to stare
Counting clouds in groups of two
If only you were there

Dreams may come in circles
Rounding out the bend
Ovals in a cornered box
Wanting you again

Laughing through the sadness
Easing past the fear
Bandages of cotton call
Wishing you were here

Singles by the double
Threes improve the score
Adding up the right and wrong
Needing you once more

Pens run out of ink
Pencils break their lead
Chalkboards need to be erased
I’ll love you instead

Poems have their verses
Often they do rhyme
It really matters not to me
As long as you are mine

The Sky Is Falling

If the sky took time to form would be like a storm with out the forecast could one forecast the weather,
moons that look like ovals with no meaning  of bright lights and no shoes to hold us steady,
like a pay grade trying to do a 360 with no head lips to catch the shadow to skime the city lights,
 can one catch the assumption blue moon blue moon one has rising,
up all night or late for the sun to rise obeying once hungry trying to pass through the, 
glimpse of rain puddles to hold on to lost change how things is getting cold for world to afford a good home,
does patient run thin,
can one catch the assumption blue moon blue moon one has rising,
can one put there self in the foot of single parent how few pennies could mean lunch or my child lunch,
Is one to young to put off the patient of having such thing or have reality sunk in like a bowling ball with no lane,
to clear the split how similarities of a storm and a game can some time twist a lane,
man  of a man son of a son how some time just words can come through the darkest of days,
once more I say,
If the sky took time to form would be like a storm with out the forcast could one forecast the weather.

Horses

Fine tussled forelock hides unbridled pain
from stifle-lameness acknowledged too late,
withering lesser those few that remain
watching as Stormcloud takes one final gait.

Soft drizzled rain-drops accompany booms
heard where each hoof tramples dirt into dust.
Mist escaped muzzle while ignorance looms,
glistens sheen gaskins long aching to bust.

Once thought sickle-hock due to fetlocks swelled
above coronets seen infected ill,
was quick dismissed by an owner compelled
to squeeze one dollar more from Stormcloud’s till;

Then came three races, one after the next,
which saw champion-spirit’s finest display;
Torturing sandscapes while weary croup flexed,
determined as anguished frogs made ovals pay.

He gave all he had and had no remorse,
For ended trots brought by one greedy soul –
Stormcloud indeed was a hall-of-fame horse,
erased when friendship went out at the poll.

10/2/2016

Making Moussaka For Neil

We begin at the beginning: a clove of garlic, too hard-headed
for its own good, combined with two large onions, their first denuding 
revealing fallow gold: the second layer, a pale green puberty,
then, the heartless blade of the knife slices into the virginal white 
purity of a cumulus cloud, which the shape-shifter processor
reduces to odiferous pearly drifts, destined tor the fry pan's
oil of olive from sunny Southern hillsides.  This bounty blends
with the underpraised, but indispensable tomato, staple
in the kitchens of Italy and Spain, then Crimini mushrooms,
sliced within an inch of their lives and browned in a skillet to bring
odor of earthiness to this angelic mix.  Six buttery ovals
afloat in their embryonic bath offer elixir of egg to the whir
of the beaters.  With infusion of feta, and one of mozzarella, it
marries with the mushrooms, and in lieu of vestal virgins, lies down
with the pasta.  We go now to oven.  Heat does its homage, then
with souls of the missing, we come to table, a chair placed
for Neil: napkin, plate, and fork, until he welcomes us
Home.  Hosts us once more.

        for  Neil Irvin Gray, 1918-2014

An Oval Precaution

An Oval Precaution

Safety comes first when dealing with the oval
They are the shape of things to come
Which once was round before they found their way
Ovals start out as circles drawn upside down in lead
A thin line curved first between reality

Other objects follow them in calm accordance 
Ovals are not born or hatched from eggs
Imagination welcomes those who wait
They have no eyes
But serve as examples of how to be
While coming into being from the source 
Original in the course they take
To occupy a particular space when they are in it

When being formed they learn no boundaries
Roll oddly down the street  
They could learn a thing or two from tires
Ovals never look both ways
(Having no eyes creates that quandary)
Beware of them
Take every precaution
Take an oval precaution if you can

Ied

IED
My legs like steel pistons
when I ran, winning gold medals
for galloping ovals.

Lean, hard, taut,
strong struts for farm work;
pivot points for the Twist, Virginia Reel,
or whirling my girl in a waltz.

Twenty-mile marches with fifty-pound pack 
 leading my company
over rugged mountains and through
waist-deep swamps.

Legs that led our company on
the silver bird and then off.
In to the dirt, dust ,heat
of the hell of Iraq.

Leading the patrol 
slowly putting one foot
in front of the other,
feeling for the enemy.

A loud boom, a thunderclap.
The sudden stab of pain, 
heat, burning in my legs.
Then, sudden darkness.

I saw myself racing, legs
carrying me across the finish line 
 first in every race.  
Dancing with my girl.

I came to in a soft bed.
Looked down the white sheet
To where it dropped
To meet the bed.

Am Beautifull

As intuitive as my eyes are, it glows and brightens like a glittering star
The skilful tandem work of my rosy cheeks and pinkie lips stick out smiles eliminating sorrow.
My shape, from my skull to my phalanges, is just like that of a Coca-Cola bottle.
The bends, the curves, the ovals, silky, and smoothness
Am beautiful,
Wonderfully and fearfully made
Black, nurtured and groomed,
My hand scribbles as my mind of thinks creativity.
My brain is more than a database,
When I sit with the wise, they nod affirmatively
In the mist of intellectuals, I standout not standoffish
Am beautiful
The scriptures is my compass
I live in and by it
Very thrifty, responsible, affable, suitable, creative and wary
I juggle school, church, home and work without being weary
Am beautiful
Indeed I am!!!

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