There are those out there who care not if I live or die.
The thought of me happy would bring tears to their eye.
To see me alone, broken and crawling would crack a smile.
They’d blame all their sorrows and tears on my life,
Curse me, and wish cruelty upon my hide.
There are those who care not if I live or die.
And if they should ever read these lines,
Let them know the same applies to them from I.
Either capitulate to Yeshua..Or go to hell.)
bright-lit Lughnasadh
hails grain crops at the ready
Lugh and Danu join
in harvest celebration
gratitude is genuine
Early on a cold March morning
a handful of men took a stand
in the year of eighteen thirty six
when a sabre drew a line in the sand
it was victory or death for the valiant few
outnumbered and out-gunned
surrender and be spared an ultimatum they knew
with a cannon shot by Travis it was shunned
even as the day was dawning
the handful of men held their ground
thirteen days in San Antonio
such a fearful sight a dreadful sound
Santa Ana gave the order,
'Fly the red banner, show no quarter,'
a bloody battle to the bitter end
while the Mexican band played 'El Degüello'
now the guns are silent the smoke has cleared
to this day Texians all say, "Remember the Alamo."
I accidentally burned my breakfast toast.
I gave a thirty minute monologue
on this heinous crime.
To what’s left of the crust,
I stared, then cursed, then laughed
so hard the room shivered
and in the echoes—
Surprise!
I found the voice I choked
for being ‘inappropriate’—
—Time to toast.
I was startled by my cracked laughter,
as the cat groomed herself
indifferently witnessing
my twenties
spent trashing a toaster.
I announced, to the stinging smell of embers,
“We’re filing a complaint
to whoever put us
in this world where you can’t trust a toaster…”
But we all know,
in a week,
I'll likely trust it again.
Be leaved
In your redemption
As whole
Leave is unworthy
Of spirit
Usual day
Ends of spittle held
Under nectars perch, hast child as babe
Layed beneath wounds crown?
Neither beckon of blankets coldened ease
Wells, as slavic despondent ledgers
Nor, blathering distinct indemptions buffet
Break winds towards lightnings laughter
First Quarter Moon
The first quarter moon wants me to
learn to
speak curly hair language. If I don’t their
rage concerning being bullied by
prunes the size of
cement trucks will
cause: more cracks in
paths. The first quarter moon also wants me to
take a
wallet out to
dinner. Wallets love to
treat themselves too, but they won’t go out to
dinner unless
asked; eat my trash to
help reduce trash waste; take vacuums out
jogging. Vacuums thrive in
sweat. The first quarter moon also wants me to
soak a
filing cabinet in
banana juice. It stops their sporadic
shivering. The first quarter moon also wants me to
decorate tissues. Decorated tissues feel
sexier when
decorated. And finally the first quarter moon wants me to
roll scented candles down
the west driveway. Candles crave
dizziness. It calms
them.
A challenging game
aligning quarters in row
to push a bunch out
I rarely pay for things in cash,
Although some stores prefer it.
They charge more for a credit card,
So customers deter it.
But at the local bagel shop,
I placed my morning order
And realized that, when tallied,
I’d be somehow short a quarter.
I asked the counterman to please
Remove one single bagel,
To prove I wasn’t out to,
By some method, well, finagle.
He smiled and said, ‘You’ll bring to me
The quarter when you’re able,”
Not wanting to deprive me of
A bagel at my table.
I walked back home and quickly grabbed
A quarter from the pile
And at the shop, I plunked it down,
Which earned a startled smile.
The whole exchange reminded me
Of childhood; before supper,
To hit the grocer’s for some bread,
I was the picker-upper.
I carried change and worried that
I might be short some money.
The fact it happened now, not then,
Is really kind of funny.
A bright shiny quarter was rolling its way
toward a young man with large bills to pay
The nickel rolled by, ignored and shunned
~ all the young man’s accounts were dunned
Just soul of 3 quarters of an ounce:
Exist in earthly body,
Accomplish planned tasks,
Generate energy and leave;
Endure pain and joy,
During all my life;
Negative and positive both prevail,
React to ambiance surrounding mine,
Life was full of joy and sorrow,
Until I relinquished the body;
Caring friends and kins,
All accompanied up to burial,
Tears in eyes, gesturing bye;
But none knows I still exist,
Perch in hearts and ambiance;
Why and who am I?
Sadashivan.nair
It's quarter to three,
The Bundy clock is ticking
It's talking to me.
Gunga Din can have his gin…
Old King Tut his beer, but
I’ll rely on the sparkling wine.
Just a bit before dinner, imbibe…
just enough to create a sigh…
a cabernet sip for the heart…
My purple-tinted glass is high;
I fill it nowhere near the brim -
halfway between a half
and quarter to five.
I can do without a glass,
but what kind of class
to drink straight from the bottle…
Dear Dad, on my wedding day,
did just that thing…do you think
he brought his game, when
he guzzled half the bottle
as the champagne flowed
like the Trevi Fountain. My spouse
stole my papa’s heart…not good enough
for his daughter…too soon.
So we drink to forget
or we forget to drink.
We’ve all become forgetful,
forgiving the unforgivable,
having relationships with frenemies.
Do I sound like I’ve been drinking.
I’m not…just poetically speaking
I’m drunk with words, with laughter,
with memories, with excitement,
with friends (that last, even through
this supercalifragilisticexpialidocious* sup)
5/25/2025
*name of song in original Mary Poppins movie
Do you ever wish you'd never been born?
Never again?
Do I play a role in your misery?
Or, did our paths cross to confirm inevitable suffering?
I'm weak and addicted.
Mayonnaise brain.
Unfiltered rants that indulge self hate.
Pushing the limits.
I don't want to be what I created.
Seem is adjacent.
No satisfaction.
Coincidence is comfortable in the simile of simplicity.
Just one second and we fall.
Gravity is there. I accepted whatever outcome
Without a breath of consequence.
Never again.
In the light of autumn skies,
one might sense this blind turbulent endeavour,
raptures veering like some wanton thunderstorm,
behind dark moon frost allure,
amber leaf vortex among bemused grey clouds,
gust-ridden disco blue hue,
tumbling high jinx from skyline moist beams,
damp rot urban shed cluster,
nomad squatter plight,
so at odds with pending freeze,
summer folly red blaze passed,,
heatwave immigrant rues latent scorn,
a strained close quarter riddle,
never ending once an everlasting phase,
now deep chill month outlier,
sunshine and wet portent’s quaint platform, eccenteuc tide or mere blot, mud-splattered ocean grazing bleak ink stain pier, lone wolf lifebuoy weeps,
shifting sand element's interval
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.