Poetic Poems - Poems about Poetic

WORDS Loose words, half-dead letters... When, however, carved into poems, they gain the poetry ...

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Like a lone flower in the silence of still air— a beautiful girl, classy, modest in her grace, unloved by the insecure. _____________________________________________________ Author’s Note: This poem reflects a girl whose beauty and elegance go unnoticed in a world too loud and shallow. Like a flower blooming in stillness, she radiates quiet strength and modesty. Yet, it is this very purity that...

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J-ust O-ffer Y-ou M-y A-ffection, N-ow G-azing A-t N-ame's I-nked P-oetry ©bfa050525 Monocrostic (Birthday of Joy Manganip) ...

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POETIC VAGABONDS I always loved poetry for its succinctness, imagery, and simple profundity but never imagined myself as a poet. With a bit of nudging on my husband’s part, I dipped my quill into writing poetry. After a few initial false starts, I found my poetic voice and fell in love with writing poetry. ...

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TO POETIC REAPING In the mind’s garden, the poem of poems, germinates in its fertile soil: The poem’s ripening word-fruits seeded with enlightenment:- May poetic grace be reaped from rhythmic sows of flowing guidance:- May poetic words be cultivated throughout all of the seasons:- In the mind’s garden may inspirational grace forever blossom: And may encouraging light ever be sun-shined:- Praises be to God for fertilizing my mind’s poetic garden:- ...

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D-ay O-r N-ight, I-'m T-hinking A-bout A-nything V-ery I-nteresting L-ike A-lliteration ©bfa051625 Monocrostic (Birthday of Donita Avila)...

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In the shadows of our nation's promise, Some stand waiting, papers clutched in hand, While others cross where fences compromise, And find a different welcome in this land. I've seen the tired faces at food banks, Veterans who fought beneath our flag, The elderly with medicine too dear, And families whose futures start to sag. Not hatred...

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When creativity whispers in the dark, A voice both foreign and familiar, I wonder: who am I to answer? Who am I to shape these words into being? The blank page waits, patient as winter, While doubt circles like a restless crow. Perhaps today I'll listen to its cawing— Perhaps tomorrow I'll be brave. But something stirs beneath the hesitation, A current older than...

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Have to admit.. do have a bit Of a trenchant penchant Alright adore southpaw purveyors Dabbles..pique aroused..rabbles in the stands roused Unique sleek cheek of their chic espoused Bowlers...reduced to trollopes Us seduced by players with not Just a dash of flash panache But hefty lefty dollops Innings built by the lilt of lyrical levers which tilt to the hilt Lush lullaby...

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Beyond a job there is a career there is satisfaction there is growth there is excitement there are endless tomorrows there is a purpose there is education there is joy there is fulfillment there are welcome surprises there is a reward there is competition there is pride there is achievement there are stacks of benefits. Not thinking beyond ‘A job’, you...

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Dad's workshed dusty with cobwebs, cans and jars holding odd stuff old tools hang on hooks waiting for old...

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Do you have a poetic licence to park your pitiful purple prose (alliteratively he wrote) it even puts my poor feet to sleep and gives me painful coma toes (literally did he quote) And have you paid your syn tax to persist in paltry poetry (a non sequitur perhaps) as dabbling in sad scribbling is how your paean 'ppears to me (no storied scripts mere scraps) Before...

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O' crescent glow of perpetual allure, candescent vigil, spirit light. Vouchsafe a crystal dream so I may brave the solemn eerie night. But if by chance, at dawn, this ka, in slumber's freeze awaits. With plumage beings I beseech ascend to greet God's sentence fate. ...

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Deadpool, with katanas so keen, Tried writing a sonnet, a scene. He stabbed at the page, In a rhyming-rage, "This 'poetry' is utterly mean!" ©bfa031925 ...

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Constantly trying the best you can to be the rock and stand without one. You know they need you but left sad, who’s there if you are the one hurting? It makes you want to cry and yell back, but you recognize they can’t control it. It’s harder than it seems, you think: ‘Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.’ Viciously...

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