Truth, a 5 letter word
should have more emphasis
than the 4 letter words
now having gained favor
in our language – children
use them freely, example
set by parents. F this and
F that...F n good grade son,
daughter. Don’t be late
for F n school. Listen to
what the F n priest says,
He knows F n Best. God
only has 3...fearing soon
another acceptable 4th --
I know, F this preachy write,
just more of the F n worthless
Same! I can see the next
new bible translation: Paul
accidentally spilled
the sacrament wine, and
Christ was F n irate....
It was E. B. White
who famously lamented
Waking each morning
feeling prevented
from improving
his worldview experience
Or waking each morning
feeling joy
for improvements made
during views of Earth
sacred smack in Her
other wise dead head
inexperience
Or something
probably not so involved
but with the same
missing the potential
for
Waking each morning
committed to enjoy improving
my co-invested worldview
sacred health-humored
wealth of experience.
But not in a preachy
judgment way,
more of a cosmic beauty
sacred green holonic
kinda open wholeEarth systemic
sort of win/win play
More trauma-informed
by advocates
for green cooperative
deep learning non-violent communication
ecofeminist EarthTribe Day
and Transition Town Time
for restoring resilient EarthJustice.
By men’s dismissing laughter challenged,
It being sheer insanity ignoring the lips-twisting thing:
Round-table talks on it speedily arranged,
No more sexual meetings with any man, no fling!
By the suckling of her infant measurably scared,
Because of its disfigurement of upstanding breast.
So, why her at all lecture, preachy lips insensibly bared,
Seeing that vanished could be the trust rest.
Ceaselessly warming up for her entitled presidency,
Very hard for her first tenure, her first-rate jewelry:
Any silly story of her electoral defeat to be fought with urgency,
If the winner dares dine with her, lethal weapon their cutlery.
To-the –core feminist
Always is angry with Man…
The Nasty, Nosy Animist,
Who could never be her fan…
And never could her outsmart with a pen.
Even with Ingratiating luck not on her side,
As now as she was then:
The one veritably ingenious but choosing to hide…
In deed, literally does bound forward-A laureates:
There was one I’d been reading-A poetess.
Is still the game in town.
Whether you recognize it or not,
It makes no difference.
Whether winky frown, hashtag or Kermit meme
has taken rot of your existence.
The world is changing, and at breakneck speed.
The elements are changing.
With impending ( trending! ) persistence.
The human element gravitating to self and
apathy, lust and greed.
The rest of them burning, disappearing,
corroding or falling into the sea.
I know this must be a preachy bummer.
A pulsating pustule, a sundowner to summer.
But, integrity matters.
It matters more than some may think.
Sense spacious silence speak
Prize primal pattern peak
Void vets vibrant vile voice
Cream clumsy changing choice
Toilsome thoughts tunnel time
Meet moist motionless mime
Feel fond fancy flavour
Opt old odd off-odours
Form fleeting formal face
Glimpse gaudy grinding grace
Face funny faulty fix
Meet most memory mix
Mull mushy momentum
Treat taut touchy tantrum
Unhinge used unseen urge
Ply preachy poignant purge
Edgy echoes ease etch
Sanguine sadness soul sketch
Impact indulgent ire
Messy moments meet mire
Languish lavish laughter
Adjourn ample after
Listening lastly lurks
Jumpy jest justly jerks
Sober sleepless soul spice
Promptly puzzles pure price
Numbing nonsense now nibs
Tasty touching time trip
Nimble nasty notions
Pace placates proportion
Time travel through twilight
Indulge instant insight
Lift lasting lustre loud
Petty plots pretty proud
Ply puzzling poison pill
Size spacious silence spill
Leon Enriquez
17 October 2018
Singapore
I thought it would be fun to pretend to translate
a yakuza-enka (gambler folk song) by Shintaro Katsu,
to be sung with gravelly grave seriousness.
Nobody seems to love me
Or care about my pain
My sandals are all worn out
I sleep out in the rain
I am a lonely bugger,
A blind and lowly bug
I have no home, I always roam,
I'm practically a thug.
My name is Zatoichi
My life is never peachy
I tap along and sing a song
As sad as it is preachy.
The only time I'm happy
Is when I'm betting dice
But if they try to cheat me
or fail to treat me nice
I show them quick my blind man's stick
Can flash with bloody slice
I cut them all in pieces
It's quite an awful vice.
My name is Zatoichi
My life is never peachy
I tap along and sing a song
As sad as it is preachy.
My parents were
far from preachy.
They went to church
separately and I went
to the children’s service
separately as well.
But as a family we
went to many Irish wakes
that enabled me
last New Year’s Day
to look death in the eye
when my daughter died
after a long fight to live.
I’m old enough now
to listen for the bell signaling
my own last round with death.
Hard to believe I've made it this far.
I may even lead on points
but any bookie will tell you
death by a knockout at the end.
Donal Mahoney
Prime pretty play
Dream deeper day
Live laughter loud
Prune preachy proud
See silly stay
Pick poignant pay
Love lines loiter
Mind moves matter
Verse vivid voice
Charm creates choice
Shrewd style speaks sound
Grace grows grand grounds
Mystic mind moves
Gracious gifts groove
Cryptic calm croons
Beauty brings boon
Gain groovy grip
Time tickles trip
Wise wonder works
***** question quirks
Ask apt aura
Feel fine flora
Meet millions more
Subtle soul spores
Prize poignant proof
Taste touching truth
Bright blossoms bloom
Rich rapture rooms
Taste telling times
Right ripples rhymes
Leon Enriquez
24 May 2015
Singapore
Ta Ta Ta Thai Thai Thai Thei Thei Thei Ya Ya Ya
©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty, 10th November 2014
Ta Ta Ta Thai Thai Thai Thei Thei Thei Ya Ya Ya
Danced the prince of Ku and Princess Ki Ka Hu Hiya
They fell into a ditch
As black as preachy pitch
That’s the kick, brick and brick, cat and mouse, yea yea yea
Charity starts at home
don't
we say?
Be kind to your kith and
kin
come what may.
A family's not only your
safe
haven
Tis pals your very own
roots
Water these shoots with
love
devoid of hate
So they bear you
sweeter
fruits.
Maybe you'd say that's
not so
easy
but perhaps that's coz
you just
too busy
Or your clock just don't
chime
for quality family time?
For if you can't make
time for
a letter or a hug
Then let my poem give
your
conscience a gentle tug.
And if this may sound
like a
preachy homily
Deserves much more
mention
and affection the family
If you can make time for
so
many other things
some of them not even
worthwhile
Try discover the
happiness
family brings
Just a tad modify that
routine
lifestyle.
My words in crystal clear
clarity
sing compassion is
likewise a
charity
Charity need not be for
strangers only
Find out who needs help
in
kindred and family
Ties of kinship severe not
Value the relations
you've got
Your siblings, cousins
from
your family tree
and all else that you call
family.:-x
I'm not a preachy schoolmaster
Armed with various pens and a duster;
And I'm not the Almighty to dictate
About wrong and right in human state,
But this I can tell with ample ease:
That no man has a license to do whatever they please!
Sometimes it is hard to know what to write or when to write when you have just about every
thought possible flowing through your head. I wonder, "Should I please the public with
how "poetic" I am or should I please You? I know what the answer is but at times I'm
worried about being liked or whether people get me. Is my belief in Your Son too far
above their heads or will they get it? Should I even worry about public opinion? Of
course I know as a follower of Christ, sharing my testimony and telling them about the
Lord is what I'm supposed to do. On the other hand, have I become to preachy and
dull? Am I shoving my beliefs down their throats? Then I realize, didn't Jesus make
himself of no reputation? Everybody thought that He was weird, blasphemous and not
qualified to tell them anything when it came to how they were living. I'm only here to do
what He wants me to do, nothing more, nothing less. If I do my part, the right people will
hear it, love it and appreciate it. All I should do, is write the word and leave all my
"rambling worries" to Him.
I keep an eye out,
for her to clue in.
Open to watching, instead
preachy explanation.
But months have been lost,
to a standard doubled,
Because of my member.
Of course I question her words,
when chaos is pointed,
with me flinching.
(for Matt's contest was made in 45 seconds the phone rang, which ended it lol)
He lives his faith simply, humbly and honestly,
he does not sit in judgment nor is he preachy,
neither does he act sanctimoniously in any way,
he teaches himself to be God-fearing and saintly.
Politicizing religion, claiming moral ascendancy,
piously pretending from the pulpit that he is holy
yet, demonizing anyone who dares to disagree,
he is the perfect picture of blatant hypocrisy.
Never complaining even while accepting blame,
when transgressing he feels a sense of shame.
He applies the rules to others rather severely
but to himself reserves loopholes and leeway.
Not content that he forever remains the same,
he confronts his flaws and fights to right them.
He hurls accusations on just about anything
yet he is more wicked when no one is looking.
The lowly saint is cognizant of his human frailty,
holding no pretensions, his life an open book.
The hypocrite is the guardian of our morality
while he keeps a mistress hidden in the nook.
The saint knows he is weak and tries his best,
the hypocrite thinks he is nobler than the rest.
The saint is worthy of emulation, dead or alive,
the hypocrite is worth nothing except to his tribe.
I danced on eggshells year after year
‘Til all that remained was sand
Still you wonder how we ever got here.
Paths strewn with landmines, shrapnel and fear
You won't hold me or reach for my hand
I danced on eggshells year after year
Emotional cruise control set in fifth gear
So sure of your map of the land
Still you wonder how we ever got here
“You don’t really feel, think or be that way, dear”
My smolder threatened flames when you fanned
I danced on eggshells year after year.
Protestations of reverence belied by your sneer
While insisting that all was just grand
Still you wonder how we ever got here.
For too long preachy voices were all I could hear
Divorce seals your fate as one damned
But my soul starved of love groaned and sighed my mind clear
I danced on eggshells year after year
Still you wonder how we ever got here.
Sub Categories
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.