The river of love is dry, heart is dead,
music sepulchral, both had wept and said,
the door is locked and silence reigns within,
the battle is lost, nothing here to win.
tears no longer flow, and no reason to,
the birds fly past in silence as they go,
garden is desolate, roses have dried,
no remorse that the bond has been untied,
who can solve the riddle of broken heart,
where deep love and trust had once played a part,
the fading glimmer of setting evening,
darkness fills where once was new beginning.
No hope or wish to reorder days past,
the field has been scorched black and all is lost,
I walk in slow steps to life on my own,
memories live on, but I shall not mourn.
Have we become mindless shoppers
Arriving home
Wondering
“what’s in that bag”
Pushing the “reorder” button
On a “saved” grocery list
Waiting for a “text”
To verify your existence.
The “nutrition” police
Have scanned your order
(aka know as request)
And altered said “request”.
Your compliance will be monitored
A bell will ring to remind you
When it is time to consume
The offerings of the day.
Please feel free to contact us
No one will respond
But your arrogance
Will be recorded.
I sent in my new world order;
They say it is on back order,
stuck just south of the border.
At least that’s what the recorder
said; I guess I’ll reorder.
Wondering if I can afford her.
Wikipedia’s in such disorder;
Besides, I like books; I’m a hoarder.
I think I’ll drink me a porter.
Or maybe grab me a stout,
And try to work all this out.
—————
For the New World Order Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Written on 04/14/2022
I feel like I read something akin to this a week ago, but can’t find anything in the poetry searches… sigh. Ah, John Lawless wrote a monoku, maybe that was it…
Sung to the tune of ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain”
Where’s my Viagra,
Where is my pill
She’ll be here in minutes
Destiny to fill
Where’s my Viagra
I’m feeling ill
What if I can’t find it
Time will not stand still
The first time we met
I’d too much alcohol
And now what will she think
if I’m not standing tall
Where’s my Viagra
Where is my pill
I can hear her sighing
as I’m losing will
Oh my!, there it is!
It fell out on the floor
It’s my last one, you see
I’ll reorder for sure
There’s my Viagra
She’s at the the door
I will climb that mountain
Who could ask for more
Ordered some books for my grandson
On the Friday that recently passed,
Expecting a next-day delivery
Since Amazon gets things done fast.
Got a notice the order was processed,
Then a follow-up it would be late,
So instead of the 15th arrival,
I was given a different date.
Told my son to remain on the lookout
For by Sunday or Monday it should
Be deposited on their front doorstep
But I started to doubt if it would.
By this morning, when checking the order,
It said, “Sorry, your books may be lost.
Please reorder or ask for a refund.”
Somehow somebody’s signals got crossed.
I will try once again but I realized
Just how spoiled I’ve gotten to be,
Yet I hope my grandson’s disappointment
Is with Amazon rather than me!
I imagine you somewhere
Listening to a song
And thinking of me.
.
I remember being with you
On the old porch swing
At 3 am talking about life.
Sometimes I wish
I had walked away at the start
And left things at hello.
Note: This is a found poem. Found poems take existing texts and refashion them, reorder them, and present them as poems. Found poetry is often made from newspaper articles, street signs, graffiti, speeches, letters, or even other poems. Many poets have also chosen to incorporate snippets of found texts into larger poems (poets.org)
Like the chick breaks out of it's shell
Like a butterfly emerges out of it's cocoon
Like the painter with a clean canvass
Like a new born with prospects
So is the new year handed you
An untrodden Decade
Take the chance,
Make the most of it
Be intentional about ev’ry moment
Be the master of your game
Reorder the word.. IMPOSSIBLE
Tag it I’M-POSSIBLE
Live one day at a time
2020 just got in your clutches....
Cheers to an Evergreen Year/Decade...
_Evergreenscribbles
Villanelle : Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Pull Pound down tear veil off event horizon holes
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Invent a machine feed it Homeric fire
No enjambement perfect rhyme rhythm metre folds
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Whoever tops the charts which poem's ire
Shines through Apollo's defiant mien Zeus scolds
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Ne'er short the naive champion of the ephemère
Paid up club member the mutual backscratcher roles
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
Machine that thinks can it rasa taste inspire
Mete out criteria merit sound sense enfolds
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
Art of artifice best profits business liar
Poets at the stakes burn to free the poems' souls
Should one reorder genuine vers libre entire
All to make for one's own sacre the pur sang lyre
© T. Wignesan - Paris, December 15, 2018
The Dishwasher’s Loaded
The dishwasher’s loaded,
The plates are all used,
The cups are all dirty and the plates all confused.
My clothes are all ragged,
My shoes scuffed and worn,
I’m in need of no revamp to replace all that’s torn.
The hoover is silent,
The dusters lie crushed,
The paintwork is cleaned and the TV’s been hushed.
My tanks are all empty,
My vehicles SORN’ed,
The MOT’s need update and insurance informed.
My mortgage has run,
My tax is all paid,
My bills have been cleared and ‘For Sale’ signs displayed.
The drawers are all empty,
I was running on fumes,
The past is all gone, each small bit consumed.
You need to reorder,
To restock the shelves,
You need to invest and replenish yourselves.
My race has been run,
My round had been played,
I shot level par and four birdies I made.
No need to cry,
No need to regret,
The world keeps on turning, it does not forget.
©Keith Murphy
Never to be challenged would not be expected.
One’s spirit would truly die, forever being infected.
Respect beyond years of age, enhanced by service scored.
Each day passing seems I am just a little bit more ignored.
Sincerely I see others being from outside welcomed aboard.
Persons with only profit for them are welcomed in accord.
Exasperated I continue to do my job for no extra reward.
Calmness is harder to reorder in my daily extreme restored.
Thwarting abounded, stabbing my abilities with a sword.
Treasured features soaring like a blackbird.
Conjured imagery, imaginations endlessly fostered.
Rationale stretched beyond limits, enraptured
But leave it to “Soupers” to reorder lines savored.
Structured ideas freely flowing flavored.
Logical sentences with meanings anchored.
The beginning and end shows its favored word.
Forward thinking thrives, brains bolstered.
Reasoning reversal, relentlessly awkward.
Rearward reordering renders rationale absurd.
Bestirred as to where to begin or with which word.
Creative poets to the keyboard scampered.
Rationale would plummet with logic ruptured.
Headwords would flounder, flitter, and be fractured.
Reading a poem backwards, truly absurd.
Reasoning stretched when the idea occurred.
What remarkable limestones
We have in our memory!
Our buried paradise;
The need to re-examine, recollect, and reorder...
Why we don't bound from one
lily pad to the other more often
Appears as our fatal mystery.
A day with my daughter
——————————
I will be a luckiest of all
cause i can spend this day with her
I can enjoy her every smiles and
her lovely words to forget my worries
She will talk and whisper many secrets in my ears
They may refresh and reorder me from my colapses
I can hold her fingers and take her to parks
to relax myself from all past bitter hardships
I can see the dawn and the sunset
at a time in her eyes in a second
I will write a poem
before my wonderful poem
SAKTHI RAVICHANDRAN
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.