This man sang about the 'Land of thunder'
Although not a native.' Born in the land
Down under..Did he cut his knuckles in
Playgound fights.? Did he experience our 'very
Hot teenage' nocturnal delights.? can he
Really emphasize.? Outside of plastic cd's
Or distant downloads..If ya bloody please'
I say rack right off, you've f' aod enough' So at least from
Me.' its real hard cheddar, and more colourfull
Stuff
Just stay 'down-breeze'
For our nation is strong..And made you
play, a bonzer song, but ya know what colin.? You've had way
Too much now to say..And If you've heard of
Normie which you must have done.. Well
His song; tells me, your day is truly long gone.'
Just a poem, not life.
Sea's waves roll in and out rhythmically
See a change, now its arrhythmically
Tsunami must be the blame or
Tommy's sleeping open-mouth snore
Amassed tangible wealth did he
A missed taking care of health, you see
Tsunami life lived now explodes
Tommy's health suddenly implodes
Stan silently looked at reeboks
Hoping they had no arch
Oxfords are great walking shoe choice
Except tennis-shoes comfort would be keen
7/9/2024
I used to get all the cleaning done when my husband was at work
Then when he came home he could relax without a lot of extra noise
a good thing too, because his nine TV sets make enough racket
now I am the one who comes home from work, and he starts cleaning
It is obvious no cleaning has been done until the second I get home
Fresh off a fortyminute drive, I desperately need peace and quiet.
Mostly quiet.
But here comes Mr. Clean with his vacuum cleaner and his dishwasher.
Vroom Vroom Rackety Rack Rackety Rack
He was home all day long
Nine and a half of these hours I was gone.
He could not have cleaned then?
Vroom
Vroom
Rackey
Rack
It is infuriating
Rent's four times more than just last year;
for a single room that's cold, austere.
Winter winds through vast gaps do blow,
black mold upon the walls does grow.
It's for my baby's health, I fear.
I don't know how I got to here;
the father daily drunk on beer.
To make the landlord's profits grow,
rent's four times more.
Sold by some fancy marketeer,
owned by an unknown financier;
rents due each end of month, and so
sometimes, my morals I forgo;
I have no choice in this, I fear;
rent's four times more.
Been to hell and back had a re-rack still stacked chips to pack/
Cut all slack and comeback sharper than a tack/
Your life is still intact to attack with so much tact to retract/
The dive your fate had cracked leaves you one ultimatum/
Gain yourself back and just claim him/
I don’t have to spit my thoughts verbatim for you to understand them/
What I’m portraying is I’m done playing I’ll be working through while it’s raining/
Whatever is paining be your own artist just painting your whole station/
You’ve soaked enough taint in forget evil and Satan become a saint man/
Concentrate on what you need to cultivate and gain cultivation/
Walk straight out of hate that’s there to incinerate your hearts clean start engraved/
Develop your own life art to let feelings depart and be torn apart paved/
Become stark with the spark in any masquerade wearing a mask to raid
M-outh
A-voids
R-espiratory
I-llness
E-vading
L-ingering
R-ack
O-r
M-isery
Topic: Birthday of Mariel F. Rom (April 08)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Blitzed.Sagging.Worn
Wild waves awash with pain
Bursting all over his frame
Its daggers sharply sending shivers
Right into the heart of his brain
Wilting under the piercing thrusts.
There in the hand of the nurse
Lodged that tender tablet
His temporary respite
And momentary salvation
The oasis promising ease
Calming the rough swells,
Damming the pain
Until the savage seas die down
And a peaceful lagoon looms large
But the storm will rise again
A tale of shipwreck and rescue
This odyssey of torment and release.
When will it ever end?
nineteen-sixty-five
forty second and San Pedro
backroom of the barber shop
racking pool balls for pennies
or whatever them players
saw fit to handout
hustle in some folk’s eyes
scripture in others
Gandhi or Elijah Muhammad
Jesus over Iceberg Slim
a world like a bordello
filled with pimps and Johns
and the only ho' in the room
was me
Ratta a tat tat
I tip my hat
swish my dress
all to impress
Boooya
I wanna do ya
Take ya down
knock off yur crown
I wanna win!
So...show me some skin
slap my back
cause I am right on track
Train is go...It's been quite a show!
but I am moving on...
it's time .....for gone
I was born high in the mountains where the air is cool...
Was taught early to work hard but didn't do well in school.
Now I am older and wiser and my head is gray...
And sometimes full of regret that my life didn't go
another way.
I am not sad because life has been good...
But there are things I would change if I could.
I guess we all have regrets of things that were...
And there are parts of my life that are now a blur.
But once you're here you can't go back...
So you file your memories on the trophy rack.
Then you sit and stare and wonder why...
And hope you come up with a good answer before you die.
TK<
Rosemary and Pepper meant
to have time spent
down by the Bay
took a cloven path
met Sir Basil's wrath
and decided to not stay
this is a new day
stop thinking that way
have some say
don't step back
tho the cards or stack
cause your black
PUT BEING BLACK
ON THE RACK
That tick in my fur
really bugs me -
scratch-scratch.
Tick tack rickety rack,
that tick needs to go!
Oh me, oh my,
that tick really needs to go -
rich-ratch.
Aunika Alch
Age 11
they are stack
back to back
in the club above
on a
HAT RACK
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.