One is the loneliest number?
Really?
One is comfort
One is safe
One is quiet
One is peace
Two is distraction,
disturbance,
interruption.
A running back
intercepting
ones own peace.
Three and more
becomes a crowd.
Nothing but noise
invading
all around.
Ripping my peace apart,
tearing my quiet in two.
To be surrounded
by two
or more
is something I
simply abhor.
A crowd is
NOT
what I adore.
So I turn,
I run,
to find where
I can be
just one.
This is not
fun.
I seek out
peace
just like
a nun.
Upon
peaceful
discovery,
it's as if
I have won.
So why is it
hun,
that here
in this place
I find a gun?
Becoming
someone
who is
becoming
undone.
Feeling the burn,
the heat,
the flames
of the sun.
I will NOT
have won
at being one
with my self.
Like an unwanted
toy story toy
put on a shelf;
feeling unjust
covered in dust
with no lust for life!
So,
outward
I search
for
pillars of strength.
Outside
my own
reflection
a sort of
friendship resurrection.
I have heard
that strength
in numbers
are the words
that are
NOT
absurd.
Is one really the
loneliest number?
Yeah…
after night
morning write
early sun
day begun
new breath taken
I awaken
words dance on page
I awaken
new breath taken
day begun
early sun
morning write
after night
*footle palindrome form
Though black waves strike with scorn and bitter might,
Look to the Lighthouse on the shore, so tall and bright.
And though the night seems scary, without end,
Faithfully look to Him, your God, your loving Friend.
Though stones and boulders block your path today,
And friends of old have turned and gone astray,
Look to the Path that leads to the skies above,
And never cease to love with endless, godly love.
And though the mountain climb is steep and hard at times,
Look ahead to God; to Him, you turn your eyes.
If tears are many and your wing is broken,
Jesus heals the wound—trust in Him and always sing!
Through every trial, He is the Lord Most High,
who hears your prayer, your whisper, and your cry.
He’ll answer in His time; He never disappoints.
No harm shall come to those He calls His own, to those whom He anoints.
Let many roar like lions, wanting to cause you pain;
Their power now is but a simple breeze, a fleeting breath in vain.
The storm is ending; see the rainbow’s hue:
“I am the Truth,” God softly whispers now to you.
One breath to clear the mind.
Two Hearts beating in time,
Two lives beginning to rhyme.
Three hopes in a deep ocean,
Three ideas now in motion,
Three dreams deep with emotion.
Four winds to desire,
Four acts you require,
Four directions to aspire,
Four seasons you’ll acquire.
Five tastes we will pursue,
Five promises made to renew,
Five senses you must subdue,
Five days of work to get through,
Five ways to make it come true.
Upon the threshold of the mind I stand;
grasping a latch of cold and rusted steel.
To seek the wonders of a hidden land;
Beyond the reach of reason’s stern reveal.
The golden key is but a restless thought;
A hunger for the truths we yet deny.
Through dusty halls, the ancient spark is sought;
To light the shadows where the secrets lie.
Then swing the portal wide on hinges bold;
Let strange and sapphire vistas greet the sight.
For when the spirit’s map begins to fold;
This narrow path shall lead to endless light.
Stay not within the cage of what is known;
For through this door, the seeds of stars are sown.
There was a lady named Lark
she was afraid of the dark
she switched on a light
and much to her fright
she licked the face of a shark!
There was a lady named Kate
for her job she was too late
soon she was fired
soon she was hired
her old boss is now her mate!
Jack sprat grew more fat.
His wife became more thin.
His staple led to less of her,
and hers, to more of him.
He tasted what she used to love
and desired a richer plate.
The more he took from her sweet fork,
the less his woman ate.
See them now walk hand in hand;
and neither plump nor lean.
A happy balance has been reached
yet still the platter’s clean.
Equal wear upon their bed,
upon the stair and everywhere.
Opposites attract to make
a different kind of ‘share’.
Familiar now has bred content;
a healthy middle found.
If they could do it perhaps we all
could find some common ground.
A poetic quiche needs lots of verbs, nouns, adverbs, adjectives and words
A large bowl is needed to add all the ingredients, spices and keywords
Stir together with some peppered punctuation to perfect your dish
Add a spritz of thyme to give you time to season your poem as you wish
Syllables help flow and mold your dough, so it doesn’t flake like fish
Roll your dough out to fit your word pie poem to make your words delish
Add a bunch of periods, metaphors, rhyming words and funny nouns too
Chop and mix until all the letters and jargon stick together like glue
Add another word dough on the top with some tasty picture bits
Brush the top with some shredded fresh monoku lined spritz
Pour your poetry mixture into your word plate with a title splash
Bake in your poetry oven until done, season with quote, just a dash
When done, let your word quiche cool for some stanza's to taste
Cut into eight paragraph servings so that nothing is left to waste
Hopefully your metaphors and pictures are not too weird or strange
And you can enjoy your rhyming quiche without needing a word change
life on Planet Earth
constant change to death from birth
defining the worth
a one time event
an existence much like rent
was such time well spent?
who and what are we
no trivial pursuit be
despite pedigrees
following all rules
of cultures, creeds, states and schools
leaves us useful tools
decrees which confound
class contradictions abound
vague questions resound
deftly inserting
words bent upon subverting
soon turn diverting
safety long has been
in knowing what lies within
defining of sin
anger can erupt
when greed fuels the corrupt
regret won't disrupt
while shrinking life’s scope
truth soon became power’s trope
belief defeats hope
change has run its course
when disconnected from source
of life giving force
existence is free
lies within state of what be
forms reality
within tall tower
lie the trappings of power
they charge by the hour
more than idle wish
beyond turmoil and deceit
search for lasting peace
results may vary
when words pursue their quarry
brave soon turn wary
no world famous sleuth
sought the source of lasting truth
within voting booth
life as form letter
deceiving the begetter
is simpler better?
odd things which we do
some people play sudoku
others write haiku
writing what we see
becomes confusing to thee
yet thus will it be
A blinking cursor laughs at my delay~
a white page, vast as January’s air.
No resolutions scrawled in bold or with flair,
no grand design, just silence on display.
I’ve known this pause before—when fingers hover
above the keys, when time forgets to pass.
The weight of what might be is brittle glass;
yet, something hums beneath, half-dreamt, half-lover.
The new year, like verse, refuses to be planned.
It stumbles, then it surges, then it bends.
A comma where you swore you’d place an end,
a metaphor that ripens uncommanded.
So let it come unwritten, raw, unspooled~
this year, this poem, neither tamed nor schooled.
Yes, it is I that you have reason to thank,
and you who are so rude and rank.
Why do you say that my friend?
You will remember me in the end.
Though many times we laughed and drank,
in all honesty, I thought you stank.
Yes, we two, would, our elbows bend,
oh, the excruciating time we'd spend.
I think of your merits and draw a blank.
It's from your odor I always shrank.
You have no honor to defend,
as a human being, you at most pretend.
Why do you ask me to walk the plank,
I asked as I then slowly sank.
Told to say something when quiet,
Told to be quiet when speaking.
What am I supposed to do?
What is the answer you’re seeking?
Am I to speak?
Or am I not?
Am I to stay quiet
and speak in my thoughts?
I speak in disease,
Slowly destroying everything around me,
Until I have nothing left,
Such a cruel reality.
Sorry is the only word I know,
It’s all I ever say.
Excusing my pitiful ignorance
Until my eventual doomsday.
I’m sorry for talking,
I’m sorry for staying silent,
I’m sorry for daring to speak,
Please don’t show me repent.
For it is my own naivety
that has brought me here.
I shall hide myself away
Until my end is near.
4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.
Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit
They say all it takes is just a call
Down the rabbit hole you fall
Running down an empty hall
I cant seem to recall
If it’s really worth it all
Looking out the window, all
I hear is a loud rainfall
Beats me staring at a wall
Or downing pints of alcohol
Not afraid for if i fall
The flowers I’ll receive by haul
I’ll feel better overall
4:09:05 is my call
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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.