Petered Poems | Examples

Summer's End

Breaking the silence at Summer's end;
the crackling crunch of leaves can be heard.
And the wind wails at trees that won't bend;
proclaiming such resistance absurd.

Songbird chicks have fledged and spread their wings;
their sweet songs have all but petered out.
No longer tethered, time cut their strings,
and gave them feathers to fly about.

The honking calls of migrating geese
reverberate as they fly in flocks.
And when snowflakes fall, those honks increase;
in response to calendars and clocks.

Winter approaches as a light snow
falls gently, covering Autumn's dead.
But soon, flurries aggressively blow,
burying everything that hasn't fled.

Gender Bender

And now let’s speak of Paparazzi
Who show us things that we should not see
They think they are so hotsy-totsy
                              Let Mama have the job

Yes, I’d prefer the Mamarazzi
        I’m sure they’d show us how to not be
They’d surely take a better shot, see
                                 As Papa’s such a slob

But now let’s move to Billygoats
             Why can’t they be called Millygoats
They then would not be silly goats
                        Let’s give the girls a chance

And what of Lazysusan’s fate
          Not fair, though now it’s much to late
I think that Lazypeter’s great 
                        They’d have a fine romance

Unless he is all Petered out
                       As I am with this goofy bout
More gender benders left to scout
                     But now I’m tired, so Sue me

Patrice Day

Saint Patrice day 

In 1957 my ship docked in the town of Cork (Ireland)
If you think that is a long time ago, you are probably right
but in my head, it was yesterday.

Life was slower back then, cargo was lowered into
donkey carts, there were many mules waiting
we went to a pub, a stone a throwaway and drank Guinness

Never did I tell my mother, but I told her of the Irish girl
I was going to marry had red hair and green eyes
she had the aroma of an angel.

Leisureliness has ended ships leave as ships do
On the shore, she waved, we cried, and people smiled
they didn’t know; no one had loved so deeply as us.

Our letter writing petered out, so many adventures for young
minds I met a girl in Amsterdam, she had a bike.
My mother asked about the Irish girl. Her name was Catlin.

White Light

WHITE LIGHT

daylight
coming in
intrusive
caught sight
of
the
minimal
 after-images
hanging
in the air

time
 become
 often
a
beginning
 unstretched
 uneven
 or
discarded
curls
 in
 layered
texture

a consistent
touch
 of
traces
of
actions a
come together

a residue
of
the
unfinished
thoughts
petered out
dwindled to

an excerpt
&
a
sigh

a
faltered
  interruption
barely begun
delectable
yet
truncated&
 improvised
 suddenness


 a feeling
of arrival
a
reassembled
happening
a
boundary
  overrun
 &unfocused
throughout

NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand

Eugenics Benefits

Insatiable - Quest For Perfection historically
From The Republic of Plato's Socrates
Offspring with high intelligence, comradery
Athletic, science minded, co operative 

Tailor made 8 cell diagnosis selects finest
Anxious embryo developer keen to accelerate 
Pleasurable reflection held in liquid nitrogen 
White gold filled syringe holder operates 

Selective patronage of top notch chromosones
Sought out the prestige of Nobel Bank of Sperm
Files boasted outstanding bio father credentials 
Mothers maintain reputation of ability to discern 

Nobel's demise came in failure to maintain stock
Eugenics launched acceptance of IVF technology 
Petered genius imput, deposits from general flock 
Duped recipients faithfully awaited tiny prodigies 

Varied outcomes, 215 proclaimed, now adults
Demonstrate unclear connection between elite
Genes giving invincible humans as sure result
Driven by nurture to thrive, rationale incomplete 




9th September 2020

Kai Michael Neumann, Sponsor
Clutching At Straws

Free Association Pulsation

Corsican sand
  on the Rio Grande
Simon Bolivar weeps
  the night asleep

Renegade cycles
  hogs gone mild
Gehinnom's Mayor
  Timothy Leary's child

Zebras abound
  in Peppermint Land
Alan Ginsberg howls
  from primal jowls

Leopold Bloom
  did not predict ZOOM
Cosmic collisions silent
  without Daniel Boone
  

Country music 
  Mix in Ragtime
from Alexander's Band
  to Motown Rhyme

Andy Warhol's mind
  spilled out in soup cans
Campbell's pork and beans
  Welsh Rarebit also-ran

When free association
  Met psychic gestalt
The resultant metastasis
  Petered out beneath salt

Stream of Consciousness is out
  New Age Meaninglessness is sin
Wherever Narcissism reigns
  Foot Worship rushes in

The best poems at night
  often come unbidden
J. Cricket fervently wished
  This one hadn't been written

Ghosts of Mametz Woods

On the 7th July 1916 the British attacked
They were the 38th (Welsh) Division not holding back
The Mametz Wood was well defended
With the Germans holding their front they intended 

The German machine guns and shelling started
With the Welsh suffering 400 casualties departed
And the Welsh continued fighting there
With casualties mounting and conditions hard to bare

As with these Western Front the battle petered
 out then
And the Great War finally came to an end
But they say the dead soldiers are still there
With people seeing and hearing them causing a scare

With battle sounds within the Mametz Woods area
And encounters with ghostly soldiers even scarier 
For when death violently occurs 
Some spirits are lost in the turmoil 
And they will not rest in the battlefield soul.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Brainwashing a Greenhorn In My College Den

I dubbed a first year my room mate
Upon arrival into our teacher training college
To baptize him. His pride in quick order I did decimate
Taking him at high celerity on a binge

Initiating him into traditional beer
In a nearby shanty compound
Where I got his head into God’s fear
Whereby upon returning the greenhorn couldn’t push anyone around

The special welcome made him the follower
I desired
Having diminished his self-concept and self-esteem lower  
Than he aspired but higher than he perspired

I proceeded to indoctrinate him into elocution parlance
As best as I could
Ensuring he possessed a college etiquette lance
That would

Not upstage Special
Whom he soon began to emulate
With artificial
Manners to dissimulate

The nascent confidence he feared might offend me
If he grew overconfident
More than I could agree
If he became less diffident

But he played the good boy
Obedient like a lapdog
Happy to enjoy a bone for a new toy
Like a contented warthog

When my training petered out
Satisfaction smiled
In my bosom without any shadow of doubt that my clout
Tamed the greenhorn who wouldn’t succeed in getting me riled.

All From a Broken Pen

You could say spring was in the air
When his ballpoint pen flew apart
Arthur took charge of it's repair
So that made it a work of art!

Declaring that, he felt compelled
To write something down with it
Frowning his brow, with said pen held
He channeled his humor and wit

When she looked over his shoulder
Every thought he had petered out
She seemed surprised when he told her
Peter problems is what it's about!

Stella

There once was a blizzard named Stella
Too powerful for an umbrella
 	But she petered out
	Losing all of her clout
Like a post-midnight-clothed Cinderella.

Her wind is still whipping around
But as for the snow on the ground
	It’s in inches, not feet
	Which must be bittersweet
For the ones who hoped she’d be renowned.

Tired

I’m a man whose tired and worn
Empty and dead on my feet,
Petered out, played out, pooped and torn
Burn out, broke down and beat.
Drowsy, droopy, drooping drained
Dog tired, done in, done for,
Exasperated, enervated empty faint
Overtaxed, overworked and bored

Sick of, sleepy, spent and stale
Haggard, run down, all in
Consumed, collapsing, asleep, annoyed
Exhausted, bygone and barren
Ramshackle, rickety, run-down and frail
Bedraggled, broken-down and creaky
Threadbare, tottering, tired and used
Feeble, fragile and flimsy

Out of shape, out of gas,  done in and feeble
Gone to seed, soft,  incapacitated
Listless, washed out, weakened, on the ropes
Undermined, fatigued, prostrated.
Discontented, dissatisfied, tacky and dull
Jaded, glum and gloomy
Sick and tired, up to here, driveling, drab
Sated, down and weary
Befuddled, unsteady, wobbly and faint
Pallid, pale and lean
Stupefied, staggering, slaphappy, subdued
Oh damn I got to go pee.

Engine On My Plane

Engine On My Plane

Engine on my plane petered out
What I did know without a doubt
After hearing a sputtering sound
Soon hard would hit the ground
So had hot dogs with sauerkraut.

Plane had been shot down over
Germany.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx

The Girl On the Shore

the girl on the shore.

my father, he died today
wordless, tearless grief
for the petered life
tendrils of sorrow that curls around your heart, most inconveniently
and the lingering dusting of sadness
constant

what is the measure
what is the worth
of a man's failings and his best efforts?

my father, he has crossed over
the door has closed, finally and forever
while we who live live the incessant demands
on this journey, first of grief
and then of dawning normalcy
till joy returns and laughter comes alongside

a breath, a shadow
so mere and too fleeting

i am the who the girl stands on the shore.
and the waves beckon with their endless and eternal song.

On Free Verse

I must be -- me
to be not, would be
contradictions more foul than those in D.C.

irrelevant, you chastise
make your feelings relate
to be a poet

but is not the message
created by my pen
poetically fulfilling for me?

if my precepts
offer no memorable revelation
for you

you may not understand
now
or ever

never having viewed the Alps
illustrated travel folders
generate no sighs

yet pen in hand
drawing in a deep breath of truth
feelings

your mind
camera candidly clicking
world exposed in free style

awaken
meter petered out with cursed verse
confined rhyme

precept message
a goal sought
sometimes conveyed

spare the structure; paint the picture
sharp strokes of emotion
live through the Creator


 
*For John Freeman’s “Your Free Verse Precept” Contest

Slam Poetry Is For Orangutangs!

The Orangutang:

There once was a traditionalist,
Who in his ignorance had missed
The beauty of youth,
The ever-changing truth!
He's a typical fundamentalist!


The Traditionalist:

"I can't stand these kids and their slang!
They are just looking for a bang!
Their rhymes are funky,
But so are monkeys!"
  -  Did he just call me an orangutang?

"These darn kids and this gosh darn slam,
It may flow, but it's still a scam!
If it ain't metered,
Then it's petered!
Why waste your ink scribbling flimflam?"

• Short Petered Poems
• Famous Petered Poems
• Best Petered Poems
• Read Petered Poems
• Long Petered Poems
• Petered Quotes