Rain on the rocks and the heather on high,
Fall on the mountain from a dark clouded sky.
Myriad droplets create pools of reflection,
Then streams all together in a downward direction.
It wends its way through rill and gully,
It babbles and scrabbles, in hectic hurry,
It soon is a river flowing and wide,
With fields and meadows on either side.
It ambles now no need for haste,
Meandering its way at a leisurely pace,
It swirls and whirls, as it joins with the flow,
Embracing an estuary in a wanton show.
Water finds its level, wherever it may be,
Eventually it ends up back into the sea.
The sea turns to clouds and then to rain,
So the original stream, lives, to stream again.
Poets beware!
Writing limericks can drive you insane,
And literally scrabbles your brain,
So please be aware
And approach them with care,
For they hook you just like crack-cocaine!
Rain on the rocks and the heather on high,
Fall on the mountain from a dark clouded sky.
Myriad droplets create pools of reflection,
Then streams all together in a downward direction.
It wends its way through rill and gully,
It babbles and scrabbles, in hectic hurry,
It soon is a river flowing and wide,
With fields and meadows on either side.
It ambles now no need for haste,
Meandering its way at a leisurely pace,
It swirls and whirls, as it joins with the flow,
Embracing an estuary in a wanton show.
Water finds its level, wherever it may be,
Eventually it ends up back into the sea.
The sea turns to clouds and then to rain,
So the original stream, lives, to stream again.
the pornographic nature of poetry
freaks my head with images and wordplay
i adore it so
like a lover i cannot stop feasting on
my lips caress each syllable like lovemaking
my heart rushes like the first glimpse of her face
thunders in my chest like each stanza in my hearts mind
the pornographic nature of poetry
silken smooth and sweaty
hard against the pen
pushing it forward fast
slowly withdrawing
each breath is a vow of love everlasting
each sentence is a heartbeat
feel it so strong
swift and sweet
the pornographic nature of poetry
i wake in dawns light
with it on my lips
a taste of the words so tender
a rushing of the soul to find the very center of my lovers heart
feel it in the brush strokes of the pen
as it scrabbles across the neat lines of the page
thrusting ever forward to the perfection
to the true expression
to the words that my lover smiles for
the pornographic nature of poetry
lurid and sweet
nurturing and deep
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.