orbit around
ideas
once held
close
in past selves
rhetoric
bathed
in clichéd
visual
representation
burnished
impulse
strengthened
by the
the wilderness
of
inner life
needs
posited
by visual
language
unmoored
from contexts
vagueness
&amorphous
abstraction
fervency
erased
spring up
distilled
of some
essence
circumvented
in
narcissistic
grafting
of self
in the tangible
permanence
of durable
words
In ancient times, scholars did not agree,
On the order in which the gospels were written, you see?
Augustine thought it was Matthew, Mark, Luke and then John,
And his belief was widely accepted until Griesbach came along.
"Mark copied from Matthew and Luke," he more or less said,
But later scholars argued that Mark was the one who led.
Soon others posited the existence of someone called "Q,"
For it seemed there wasn't just one source, but two.
But this two-source theory would be challenged as well,
Did Q ever exist? They just couldn't tell.
A few scholars even applied a statistical technique,
But if a consensus exists, it remains rather weak.
Understanding ourselves is a wonderful truth.
A jagged mirror posited a torn clueless identity.
Pals left me as a yore youth with a magic tooth.
I feed my fears till they fade, leaving me futility.
The stud concept is flawed—for screaming loud.
In retrospect, this location reveals a lot of sounds.
The ego is beyond what shows in a mirror shroud.
Such strangling shadows in the quagmire of love
I am still alive—such a steam vapor from above.
From mockery and uproar to the rising shove
Is life joy— or only a shipwreck with no smooth?
If the wind is right, just sail toward serenity.
A blameless man rose up among the crowd,
Ego and soul fit each other as hands in glove.
1st place contest winner
Written: February 28, 2023
Writing Challenge - I Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
This poem form is the Fragmented Rhyme invented and Conceived by Constance La France. It has 14 lines with indentation, and a rhyme scheme, as follows: ABABCCCDDDABCD
In a dream of bare, I awoke
In the blared walls, it misspoke
The winds of Auria eluded in the cascading windows which then provoked
Envisions of Auria descended through the glistening saint
Without a flair, I discerned a haint
Auria wandered in a stage of fright,
Meanwhile, invading my dreams of spite
Her nebulous words echoed in my mind
‘What a faint creature, so misled by fracture’
They mellowed as it prospected my perceptions
As she posited her hand on my exceptions
Envisions of Auria repulsed its regressions
She was my fate of progression
She rehashed my reflections
A memory of infliction
She wandered off into a glistening spade
Relinquishing her jades
I scrutinized her windows of glade
I lingered against her pallid hair
Then, woke up in tedious wear
‘Auria, a lady of fate, yet dart of spade’
Such assimilation wandered in the glistering gape
My thoughts were so heavy, yet so light, though seemed rather bright
They were my reminiscences of Auria”
“The first gulp from the glass of natural sciences will turn you into an atheist, but at the bottom of the glass God is waiting for you.” — Werner Heisenberg
heisenberg did not
express uncertainty when
he posited God
at first gulp, science banished thought
of childhood gods of should and ought
but progress through the draught is fraught
as glass bottom comes into view
you expected mere residue
instead, ’tis where God waits for you
UNFAMILIARITY
evolving
exceptions
with unusual clarit
the
night shifts
spanning
&deliberately
posited
as a hybrids
form
flaring
in the
distant
gloom
a
silhouette
an
alter ego
obscured
visible
secretive
a sense
in a dreamy a
illusion
recedes sharply
into the
distance
vanishing
beneath a
yellow moon
glowing
incandescent
distinctive
primordial
abandoned
separated
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 | Year Posted 2022
It was thought the young whale was pregnant
confused as she was and out of her depth.
They waded into the river to help,
floated rubber rafts to buoy her up.
Marine experts posited ways
to keep her breathing in shallow waters.
In dockyard pubs
hard men openly spoke of her plight,
voices low and humorless
as they test-drove new technical jargon.
When she died;
rolling in the pebbly shallows
we threw a tarpaulin over her
as if she were a human cadaver.
We had televised everything,
implemented elaborate plans,
recorded last moments with ripples of hope.
Later we watched the sluggish waves
wash away her long drowning.
~~~~~
https://www.ctvnews.ca/world/young-whale-trapped-in-london-s-river-thames-euthanized-1.5421060
It was thought she was pregnant
confused as she was
and out of her depth.
They waded into the river to help.
They floated rubber rafts to buoy her up.
Marine experts posited ways
to keep her breathing in shallow waters.
In dockyard pubs
hard men openly spoke of her plight,
voices low and humorless
as they test-drove new technical jargon.
When she died;
rolling in the pebbly shallows
we threw a tarpaulin over her
as if she were a human cadaver.
We had done our best, had televised everything,
implemented elaborate plans,
recorded last moments with ripples of hope;
watched the sluggish waves
wash away her long drowning.
Ancients’ cognizance of Circles “all be it” acquired
knowledge...understood through expression
moving heaven to earth, hither to yon...
questions posited unceasingly, opposing thots
same side of incontrovertible proof felt not seen...
women sang songs reigning from the heavens
regaling self and others bequeathed with stirrings
internal knowing, sounds chime of longing
women dancing, circling round and round
star’s patterned exactness...reflecting heaven...
movement roused by passion...prevailing wisdom
carried forth by cellular division of another type,
we don’t altogether call to mind why...
impending assembled structures of activation appear
Circles of old, Circles of new...always replying
marking me, marking you...will you join me in this
now new, Circling lives forever within you!
Some men's the brain, packed on the rest
Some are down, others on top
Every moment dancing, drinking to the best
Think what can turn, coupled soup to drop
Some men's brain, with their posited tune
Like black pigmy pigs, raising for the fall
Out of the docket stew, few for the hewn
And ready for the leagues, to need and stall
Some men's brain, in the nutshell heads
Shaking at Kayamba tunes, they play and dance
Any but not strain, the rain for thy mades
At last the cucumber, for morning mouth bounce
Some men's brain, justice for the musts
The piling exerting pressure, leisure for solution
Any time for the chain, trailing as the locusts
At last the coughs, itches pitching of pollution
At last no brains, dull pains in the chain
Anything no the Cains, from Spanish cranes
At last the bow leg, unseen full stain
The reason for stain, now in the manes
THE END OF A FAIRY TALE
Once upon a time, the royal throne room -
buzzing with birds, bees, a princess and groom,
urinal and pot,
where they’d have a squat.
Vacated royals - posited stench-bloom.
10/21/2017
Line Gauthier’s Funny Limerick Contest
It Dawn's
You smoke up with clear art,
Your cuddle bathed and soothe my heart,
It is a dawn of new jolly from the building hut,
Like the artistic posited in serve of morning glory,
Who knew this fragrance of luminous will glow for the hurt?
It is a dawn of new marvel, for the melodrama pans from the bird,
The swirl and twiddles, imposed from humid,
Claps the day with the dawn of happiness
Talks highly of the dawn,
It dawn's to them with a lot of greatness and optimism
But the dusk of the dawn gnaws with hurt,
It is a dawn of glory let us buoy with no hate
At dawn's wake up, and spread speck and serve the day,
Let yesta! troubles dusk to forget and dawn today with a purge of remembrance
Until a point is posited,
Its position is unclear;
Whether on a pencil
Or belief embraced so dear.
Until a point is set upon
A concrete place of view,
Its meaning is unknown,
Its validity not true.
Until a point is taken up
And held close to the breast,
Defended and declaimed upon,
Its measure is at test.
Until a point is proven,
Its fate remains unlearned;
It has no merit without facts,
Its placement it must earn.
Until a point is made concrete
There is no point in trying;
The point is this, it needs a place
To prove the point’s defining.
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.