Readable Poems | Examples

An Open Book

Her pregnancy was like an open book
quite readable with just a cursory look.
She wore a gown that trailed in white
and grinned a guiltless smile as bright.
And why not, white was only a tradition,
her virginity a sold out first edition.

IS THIS THE STORY

The sequence of events
Lead me to believe 
That love exists
The sequence of drama
Lead me to believe 
That the story is readable 
Who could have thought?,

The sea speaks in tongues 
Are you listening?
A profound word
The birds mumbles the unknown 
Can you relate?
To the truth
Who could have known?,

The sequence of events
Lead me to believe 
That lies exists
The sequence of drama
Lead me to believe 
That the story is yet to begin 
Who could have thought?.

A Native Nativity

You try to make them civilized and grown-up,
but the words are infants,
they want to crawl around and yell for a bit.

You know that an eye is upon you.
watching you in that whelping room
where creation rearranges molecules
into a planetary system of speech
made of matchsticks and glue.

A poem is about to be splashed,
onto a speeding window of light.

Logic and reason must first
bash their bulbous heads together,
until their mechanical, self-winding brains
fall out.

The collective humming of incubators,
begins to lipread your silence.
A process similar to hand washing.

Eventually a swaddled indigenous form,
unwraps itself,
it begins to walk upright.

Matchsticks and glue
form readable fragments.

You begin to hope,
that someone inside that watching eye
will name what you have done -
even attempt,
to explain it to you.

Do You Know At Least Some of the Answers

Why is my body lop-sided?
Notice when I put on my socks
Never a problem with my left foot
With my right foot my muscles lock

Why are some right handed
While others more adept with their left?
Ever try writing left handed
A scrawl barely readable at best

Why does the hair on a female's face
Take so much longer to grow?
Imagine if the exact opposite were true
Not very appealing I know

Why do men stand up to pee
While ladies sit happily on the throne?
Wouldn't work the other way round
A mess we couldn't condone

Why do we always put on our pants
With the same leg first every time?
You'd think there'd be a sensible reason
Right now not one comes to mind

Why do we tilt our head the same way
Every time we kiss our lover
Coz if we varied the side each time
Noses would get squished you'd discover

If only we knew all the answers
There'd be no more struggling through life
We'd all be up there floating on cloud nine
Living happily without strife

Now That We'Re Older

Ballad style lyrics...written in a rhyming style, therefore readable as a poem too... 

Now that we're older...
By Michelle Morris
06/11/2020

When we were young and didn't know better, 
We hurt each other with our break up letters;
Never took the time to understand ourselves,
Let alone each other, the hurts and hell...

So now that we're older, we feel so small,
No hurting each other, we don't do that anymore;
We reach out our hands and we hold each other tight,
We stay warm and loving, each and every night...

And now that we're older, we know we survived, 
So many heartbreaks and soul crushing ties;
We know what it's like to be broken on the ground, 
To climb back up, each and every damn time... 

Yes, when we were young, life was different then, 
People were oblivious to each other's pain;
Now that we're older, there's just no excuse, 
We're bound to each other, win or lose... 

So, now that we're older and we've grown our hearts through the years, 
They're stronger and wiser than any of our fears;
And we follow our soul's guidance for every new path, 
And we show compassion to each other with love in our hearts... 

© Michelle Morris, 2020

A Fan For My Muse

I need to write a happy ditty,
One that's readable and witty
I've been sitting here for ages
Scribbling rubbish on pages and pages
Muse has fainted; what a pity.

Five Sens-Less Faith

FIVE SENS(LESS) FAITH

Five senses lessen Faith,
In your calculative confusion you bath.

It doesn't consider your mind-state
But wait...Your faith will determine your fate.

Faith makes a fool of what makes sense, hence
Grace found my heart & soul where logic ends.

I deciphered Faith doesn't have to make sense,
Neither is it a myth, past or future tense

Nor coherent and readable to your lenses 
Cos faith's functionality reside outside the 5 senses.

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©30thJuly2022.

Writing-

Writing

I heard a clerical, documentary developing
Eagerly I looked for the deed
Read, read!

I crave the developing, developmental declaration
The literacy brought such sorrow
Only this and a text

I crave the directive, draft drawing
The nonindustrial narrative noting
I crave the cultural, creative competence

I felt compelled to sniff the lyrics
Declaration - declaration - declaration!
Only this and a composition

I crave the documentary, declaratory drawing
Of rhythms that are clawing
Of lines that are drawing

In there stepped a readable read
Only this and a typesetting
I crave the paperbound, prepress plea


By the grave I saw the readers
I remember I was meaning
I have dreamed of the contracts


I heard a such as a, testamentary lettering
I awoke and flung the recitation
Much I marveled the noted typing

Deep into that darkness creating
Much I marveled this learned reader
The developing declaration dowering 


I crave the developing, developmental








6/11/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©

To Repeat a Class

They made him repeat a class,
Promising him that he would pass,
This backing up with eyeglass,
Urging him to read even on grass;
To plan always for The Big
And be willing to for it dig:
For the More-Original-than-A-Wig
And the Fruit-Promising Fig.

Then, off he just slunk
From his long-lazing bunk
Wearing the weirdest punk,
In his arms some readable junk;
Not much of the money in him sunk,
Soon again to exams flunk …

Workload had seemed Gargantuan
And he’d never been Academic Centurion;
Trust in him a Romance with Farce,
Sure again to repeat that class.

Wind Peacefully Soft

Wind peacefully soft
Begins to steadily waft;
Life is colorful,
The Next Man wonderful.

Security is stable,
Killers uncomfortable;
Their aforethought readable,
Every move predictable.


Where there could’ve been riot,
The clamorous are quiet;
No more of The Abusive,
Less of the Laughter Derisive.


Evil is no more presentable
Nor vice understandable;
Nature keeps image rebranding
At corners Angels standing!

Map Making

Death has nothing to say,
there are no readable maps,
only a journey
penciled-in upon a blank sky.

Imagination colors itself,
builds its own truth.

Eventually we must draw our own maps.
Time waits for us
      to remember.

Grammar Police

“So, who appointed you the grammar police?”
“No one, that’s who!” may your sarcasm increase,
But grammar is important if you seek readership
For readers will pass over you if you don’t give a flip.
Basic language skills are essential for readable writing
Knowing when to use “its” or “it’s” is, frankly, inviting
Using “then” instead of “than” is always an off put
And with your reader gets you off on the wrong foot
“Either requires or,” while “neither requires nor”
I assure you prissy-perfect grammar opens the door
‘Tis true every writer makes the occasional mistake
But you will get high marks if the high road you take
Hone your grammar skills and your poetry will improve,
Readers will rejoice, you’ll have found your groove.

written February 2, 2022

Poem - Making

if you can capture the moment
and all its salient points
remember all the details
and recollect what happened when the dust settled
in a way that’ll keep people reading
until the very last full stop
then you should try putting it down on paper
go on - be a devil - write a poem.

it doesn’t have to philosophise
materialise or realise as a treatise
all it has to do is be readable
and relatable
no need for it to be a manifesto
or capable of making flowers grow
just so long as most of the people
understand most of the words most of the time.

if something emphatically moves you
be it a wedding, death or birth
then let the experience flow right out of you
if it changed your outlook, if it were worth
go on, write it down and some
and if it’s good, handsome
don’t keep the words stuck inside
let them take you on a ride.

shine on and shout out
if it’s a word don’t ever doubt
in years to come when you look, reflect
and remember someone with deep respect
you’ll be grateful the words came out to play
and who cares if some went astray
if you’ve got it, flaunt it
and if it’s too quiet, shout it!

January 1996

A Crook of a Cook

After a momentary look
And a longer one I took
At the size of her ordered wood,
While I, still stood,
I surrounded that our cook
Is some sure crook,
Her motives a completely readable book,
Her inner spirit reached with my hook…

And in her spirit saw I not a spook
But upon what I stumbled thrice shook:
I’d swear at a shrine A crook of a cook.

Class Notes

~ Class Notes ~

Bills don't jingle
  Coins aren't single
Hermits don't mingle
  Diets don't Pringle

Fingers can't fingle
  Though pingers oft pingle
Wingers wings' wingle
  When Bilinguals lingual

No, dirt floors haven't shingles
  Nor mountaintops dingles
But the snow still tingles
  The beard of Chris Cringle



 ~ Transcribed into Readable 
      Form by A. Stew Dent

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