Happened upon by chance…
The folly that a PS ‘poet’ plagiarized his contest theme, word for word, from an All Poetry poet.
In the wee hours mansions where hushed glooms sneak flesh
Flesh that gossips furtive malice in minds' natural breath
Breath that stimulates crooked cravings inside the disappearing doom
Doom slopes upon the feeling’s ending, perverted plea
Plea shades its crimson mantle around the nocturnal mind.
Mind inspired by secret wrath below a pastel skin
Skin that fleeces a monster whose faintness shams piety sin
Sin that buds in plagiarized hilarity, deriding deadly impasse
Impasse on a land of walking humans in skins yet inner evils.
Poem by N. Mugisho
IMPERFECT ROSE*
the imperfect rose,
once vivacious and colorful under the summer sun,
its petals are now wilted, its colors faded and gone.
its time has passed
its dance is done.
the imperfect rose cries many petals,
last vestiges of her beauty wait for the wind to carry them to their rest.
each petal papery and thin
lies on the lush green grass, its veins blushing
glowing pink in the setting sun and to silence it doth humbly acquiesce.
even in decay, the imperfect rose holds a certain grace,
a reminder of glory days now past.
rose petals may be temporary
but are eternal in memories of love and sharing
enough to weather the storm, to outlast.
the imperfect rose
has thorns that make one bleed.
forgive the rose of its imperfections with compassion
for of her thorns the imperfect rose doth gladly concede~
we are all petals of imperfection, might you accede?
*Note:I originally posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025 then deleted it. It’s my original creation and was not plagiarized (poetrysoup.com/poem/imperfect_rose_1738035)
ADRIFT AT SEA*
sea-worn bottle,
bobs on a digital tide.
inside, not paper brittle with salt,
but luminous lines of light,
coded in metaphors and rhyme.
message tossed
into the sea.
unknown sender,
no harbor designated, no destination
on any map.
it drifts, a lonely vessel,
across oceans of indifference,
until…
a seacoast appears,
unsummoned,
unexpected.
my eyes, the sand.
my mind, the beach.
I pick it up,
this delicate thing,
uncorking the silence.
The words flow out,
a story whispered,
a feeling shared,
across lifetimes,
across the vacuity.
suddenly,
I am the address.
the recipient unknown,
FOUND.
the message delivered.
the poem,
HOME.
*Note: I posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025 then deleted it (www.poetrysoup.com › poem › adrift_at_sea_1740391). This is my original poem and has not been plagiarized. Also, this poem was recently published in Highland Park Poetry’s Anthology titled MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE. I am blessed.
WHAT IS JOY?*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is joy? It’s a dance in your socks,
a giggle that slips from a box.
It’s ice cream at noon,
and a silly cartoon,
or finding a stash of old rocks!
*Note: I originally posted this poem on June 27, 2025, but later deleted it(www.poetrysoup.com › poem › what_is_joy_1742167). This is my original poem and not a plagiarized one.
Thus said Shakespeare
" in poetry nothing is created
everything is copied "
PS. Thus he was known, he said
that in a certain way he plagiarized verses, because
everything had already been thought before
by someone else...
You will regret me I said waveringly
not realizing the seriousness of the words just spilt out over my tired lips
you will regret not treating me the way you treat other girls
for is my worth compared to a stack of bananas on the shelf, im the one constantly left off the bunch too rotten for banana bread
you will regret not loving my bigger body
for the smaller one will never be touched by your hands, even though it was your actions and falsifying words that built this body
you will regret me
you will never see this version you created
a Frankenstein who never meets her master, be it better than coming to life for you over and over again for a small volt and bolt of love to be left strapped to the table and never played with. For my loneliness is louder than the rattling of the chains left on the dungeon walls
my actions might not be innocent in this plagiarized tragedy you are acting out here
but you wore the leading roles shoes very well
I will regret you I said knowingly
Steering right back into the tornado. waiting for it to hit just to feel the eye of relief so I can feel your love one more time
I care I search
For poems that are written
By the actual poet posting them
Not poems written by another poet
Not plagiarized lyrics
Not by ones produced by Artificial Intelligence
I care I search
For integrity in the poetry community
In some cases
I am still searching
Oh, so macho, breathtaking,he!
Unlike an innocent orange on a tree.
He looked perfect in his mugshot and orange suit.
“And chose plagiarized poems to post, to boot?*
The crusader rabbits here are still licking the felon's boot.
Then howl, when into a mall he deadly shoots?
No, no ,absolutely jail fo him though.
Liberal DA’s will surely, let him go.
For Americans are bad and evil, don’t you see?
Our rights went ,poof, into the air with glee.
Laws and the Constitiom all are fully gone.
As phony Fact Checkers care not for law, or freedom’s song.
And mainstream media covers crime with a cotton candy blanket.
All headed for closed banks and a great welfare-banquet!
Americans rights to free speech being taken away.
Thanks, Elon Musk, for giving all, the right to have our say!
Mugshot Mikes, so many of them repeat offenders in big cities.
We even had one here, a few years ago, what a pity!
5/11/2023
THIS A TRUE STORY. HE WAS A PLAGIARIST HERE. HE JUST COPIED SONNETS FROM OTHER SITES. LATER, I FOUND HIS PHOTO ONLINE IN A JUMP SUIT, IT TOOK A TEAM OF uS TO PROVE tO ADMIN.HE WAS CHEATING
ADMIn CALLED ME THAT CHEISTMAS EVE.
PAnGIE
Clitter clatter, clitter clatter
the turning of industrial wheels
ever in the perpetual motion of the hive
scurrying indefatigable inside the ant hills
of predetermined and alive
Waiting on deliverance for the all accepted prize
Clitter clatter, clitter clatter
a rhythm for monotony's purpose
the humdrum beats out their lives
while the insistence of the schedule
leaves them dying for a life
Waiting on the rescue of the anticipated prize
Clitter clatter, clitter clatter, clitter clatter, clitter clatter
the digital winking eyes
watching dwindling credit disappearing out of sight
clatter clitter, clatter clitter
the hunger of the cash till is never satisfied
Clitter clatter, clitter clatter
freedom is form which they have plagiarized
the choices they have chosen
choosing which type of programming
from the no choice they were given
Waiting on the expectation of sometime better lives
Clitter clatter, clitter clatter
every incessant pervasive distraction
clatter clitter, clitter clatter
no escape from this institution
leaves them dying for a life
God Is Glorious While Calling Us
While He has been glorious,
God can always call all of us,
And realized,
Plagiarized,
Even if sinner or a sourpuss.
Jim Horn
Motivated by another poem,
God apparently to write them
has motivated.
possessions, when pilfered, are gone; stolen thoughts- orphaned captives, live on
December 28, 2019
Contest: A Thief Who Steals Your Thoughts
Sponsor: Bobby May
Note: Plagiarized thoughts, words, or even full poems are very difficult to undo, even when copyrighted.
I plagiarized a verse
Japanese,
that was copied on
Australia,
later it was recited
In Rome,
until being censored
in Arabia ...
I stole a gipsy poem
that was transcribed
in sanskrit,
went through the package leaflet
in Africa,
and ended up here
in the nook ...
Everything I write
is played ...
All i say
It has been said ...
Nothing what
we poet,
it's unheard of ...
Everything here or there,
It's plagiarism!
The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch
Dear Ed: I don’t understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I’m brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!
Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who’s dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!):
since he’s plagiarized Unknown, I’ll wager!
I shall not envy the upstart's polished gait,
Or wish myself as old knights in diamonds
Hued to bamboozle familiar souls and eye,
Flattered by aping pals and ersatz blondes.
For swanky gait soon in quiet slumbers lies
In darkest gloom beyond men's urging eyes;
Where kowtowing lip trills no ego-oiling tune
To laud vain legs that all wise sense impugn.
Since old knights and their fabled crystals fall
Into gloomy abysms past all plagiarized cheer,
And their wide glows sheer shifting dreams be;
Which deft poet thereon docks his sailing soul?
As for manipulable eyes and souls of fan-stars,
And idol blondes cued to flatter clumsy knights;
Are not both simple wit and truth strictly averse
To all such visionless ego-trip and short-sights?
Give upstart parvenus and 'knights' whole pomp,
I'll claim the simple logic they so mulishly tromp!
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