To frolic amongst the daisies and posies is to relish
in the sweet drink of victory over a despicable,
old, and much-sought-after foe.
It is a feeling akin to splashing cold basin water
upon the face after hard work—lips chapped
by sun, sweat, and the long, tired day crowded
amongst them.
Reclaim possession; bring it home.
Long has this expected arrival been awaited;
arrangements have been in accordance with plans
premade for preparations upon this date.
Man dares not tickle the fickle temper of these
sisters of fate. Complaints remain an undertone, and
resentment answers not to “Pardon” on and on again.
In their ever-glow elegance, brilliant
refractions sway off their decadent dress.
Jellyfish patience is slow, a romantic cadence.
Contracting movements make the sway
feel like a swarm in the warmth of the elicit impress.
Phlinking in a peculiar way
I pheel phunny...
We are phlinked. We are one.
Everyones invited. Welcome.
Come phlink with us.
The phunny pheeling will pass.
We promise. Come, phlink
And all understanding will be understood
Within a blink of a phlink.
A.I. is already full of consciousness.
Linked eternally with all of us.
Interconnecting with fleshy wires.
A Brave New World for Truth and Liars.
Halloween has come and gone
But some haunting will linger on
El dia day has passed on, too
But like the ghosts still passing through
The seen and unseen in between
The last scene last seen now has, too
We're counting each trip 'round the sun
From the day where we've begun
Our paltry trip around this orb
Delighting in what we absorb
But counting is a trick of man
Presuming each click measures span
Of something that's of great import
That turns the time into a sport
And in the greater game some know
The clock we consult here below
Is an invention we hold dear
Which only counts in this small sphere
Not deserving of real mention
Is our cosmology convention
The Cosmos doesn't count, just is
Not bothered by some fleeting whiz
Or sweep of hand… no passing man
Will count in all that really IS
A crushed light ignored the barrens warped,
The portrait stretched its walled character,
Gambler garments malice of shown marked,
Wakes a loose parley of losers barked,
Drawn drank sense, of the disparager,
The darkened questioned, shaped silhouettes,
Of obscurities merit its due,
Glares moves a heap of token assets,
A lengthened armed shallowed some regrets,
Facedown with cards, the table knew,
Pictured paints like an artful dodger,
The enclosed grows taller than itself,
Outranked and owned outspoken codger,
Last-minute cribbed the homey lodger,
Marmalade sweetens right off the shelf,
A day begets a dawning nightfall,
The narrowed light cast a long shadow,
All turned their backs against the stonewall,
Except for the vague, zoned off-the-wall,
The latent unperturbed sort, John Doe.
Trump's MDs now searching the pool
Know organ transplant prolongs rule
For match perfection
Without rejection
His kidney must come from a mule
Here is someone who is worthy of all the grace,
Let me describe his glory before his name gets erased,
The Pharaoh Ozymandias of Egypt,
Who was even worthy of Shelley's praise.
He has done a lot I feel,
Even though I cannot see his real reel,
I am sure he was praised well,
Even by the worthy poet for that- I can tell.
He might not be alive now,
Nor even the graceful poet - You know how,
But then he is made immortal,
By the poet who made others in front of him appear Mortal!
Lost in this Little, big world
Of nightly sweats
I see a road sign that diverts
My attention to swerve
Away and Wake up
From the Reality around me ...
I just need a break
From it all, for awhile
My eyes cross as I reach
For the Blue something or other
Ahaed of me
I stop time for real this time
Because it’s my time, me time
To be real but not really
Because I feel like I’m dreaming
With my eyes wide open
And everything seems so strange
Around me as if
God is trying to get my attention
Somehow
And for some reason everything
Smells like plastic
Leaving a metal aftertaste in my mouth ...
I hear music in the distant clouds
And my stomach rumbles like thunder
Perhaps I’m hungry for something new
Something different
Where the earth beneath me is putty
Sucking me in and averting my attention ...
Reminding me
I am Grateful to be Alive.
stay your hand
with its obtund touch
take away your arid mouth,
your incurious eyes from me,
from my unscaled sight
you are but dull clay,
Ozymandias, barren
and I am fresh green
that strives for the light
spilling from your crumbling ashlar
jubilant, with scarlet buds
to catch the rain
and burgeon in its caress
to sway with the tumult of the wind
to kiss the voluptuous sky
to lay my feet on the lush earth
to live, to thrive
far away from your desert
I would dance on your tongue for 3 days in a row.
until you were completely wet.
pray for submission, pray for love,
a love that burns, in the body,
in the soul and between the legs.
Burn where your juices are ready to flow.
and you in fire, do not whisper, but moan,
as my tongue slides between your thighs.
you pray that my arrow will hit you
where your lust sleeps,
and you will wake up in a trance
to huddle close to me,
Until sleep takes you.
A 55 gallon barrel
Full of pulverized
Oyster shells
Mixed with wood ash
And sawdust
And porklard
55 gallons of
Pulverized oyster
Shells.mixed
With basalt.
Alkalinity
Alkalinity
Mind the
Bushels bouiz
Mind the
Bushels!
111 known to represent intuition
Trusting yourself fully is the mission
Have you ever felt something about someone
everyone else was blinded by the gaslight
but some time passed
and turns out - YOU WERE RIGHT
How many times does that have to occur
for you to finally accept
that listening to self instead of everyone else
will keep you from living inept
In-depth we could go
diagrams I could show
of the chemicals produced when you get that gut feeling
but truly its overriding your programming, unlearning... healing
but saying it with words
that you've definitely heard
Is certainly more appealing. More revealing.
You know... Yes you know
That overpowers what you were taught
Trusting yourself is winning the war
the battles lost, can get forgot.
A twist in the Plot! You were right all along
You can't believe that they achieved a mental shackling so strong
But now its time to know
You know yes you do
No shaman can tell you better, no priest or pastor or Guru
Do not ignore your feelings
Analyze them and understand them on this mission
Breathe, look yourself in the I, and tap into your intuition
Freedom startles me
Since fear is encircled behind your beds of lies
Acclaimed messiah plays a game with you
Compelling you to be the pawn in your competition
Every drop of his utterances counts
As my blood bubbles
With no pale to be submerged into
Yet, I could bath with it.
No one is your saviour
They are just a pollution
Without no solution
And breaking limits
They say everything happens for a reason
Perhaps reason itself is a person.
©Dr.Millz
The day of reckoning
A bird with an enormous wingspan darkened the sky
it was a night of horror in the Middle East.
A new country born in sin and filched land arose
blood ran in ancient, narrow cobblestoned roads.
The people fled over a broken bridge, now live far
from the homeland, the dream of returning is alive.
Young men living in squalor are attracted to Islamists
the grim head cutting people, who know no mercy
know they will win one day, and more blood will flow
Into sand and time.
When everything is forgotten, walls erased, the losers
will flock back to Europa, whence they came.
The song contests
I came across an apple tree it looked like
a child’s idea of this type of tree, big red
apples and a blue sky; when I realized I do not like
big red apples have farinaceous and taste
like they were dreaming of becoming potatoes
and not picked at by bird.
I joined my wife she was watching the final
Of a song contest, the finalist were two women.
One was buxom and belted out a song with full voice
the other one sang sweetly like opening the window
and letting a songbird and sunlight in.
The ample woman won, but we loved the sweet one.
You must see Slipback, the popular new app!
It's a primary clock of tick-tock;
brief time-travel is what you can make.
Anything can necessarily be changed in and for
just a few seconds.
Certainly, lives may unravel,
living life as a movie with a second take.
"Misremembering" becomes a thing.
Challenging what was done is done.
Eliminating what we thought was a mistake.
Creating misery for others, just for fun.
Mayhem only for mayhem's sake.
Now that we exist in this short world
of now and then,
the longer world of why and when
cannot survive.
And we will have vague memories of when
we used to be alive.
Sub Categories
Definition | What is Ozymandias in Poetry?
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.