Short Reversible Poems

UP TOWARD DOWN I WILL RISE

As I grasp the rails
Ascending upward toward I climb
I will rise on foot at a time

I will rise on foot at a time
Ascending upward toward I climb
As I grasp the rails

 08/30/18   ©2018
A Reversible Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:Jesse Rowe...

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Nothing about life is impossible,
 viewed while looking up

Nothing about death is reversible,
 viewed while looking down

All in between is contestable,
winds blow North and South

Nothing promised, nothing cursed
—the choice to laugh or frown

(Ouray Colorado: October, 1995)...

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On the nose
Diva 
Hits
Pitch 
Perfect
Note 
Sent
Airborne 
On wings
Slapping
Cupid 
Senseless

~

Senseless 
Cupid
Slapping
On wings
Airborne 
Sent
Note
Perfect
Pitch
Hits
Diva 
On the nose



2018.08.22

Composed For Jesse Rowe's
A Reversible Poem Poetry Contest...

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Communism or Capitalism?
  Man exploits Man
Capitalism or Communism
     Select again
  Man exploits Man
     Life or Death
        it isn't
 Whichever you select
Communism or Capitalism
   Man exploits Man  


    August 29, 2018 


Entry in 'A Reversible Poem Poetry Contest'
    Sponsor: Jessie Rowe...

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Calendula
Blending in perfectly
With the orange sky
        Swaying
In the gloaming zephyr
Attracting a butterfly



A Reversible Poem Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by: Jesse Rowe
Date written and posted: 09/01/2018...

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I am a diamond
In the rough, I start
Like a chip left short, 
My subpar anatomy
I will not be defined by
What sparkles in the light
The dark spots fall within
Fear of failure like a lake
Against the currents, my head kept up, 
Watching my fate approach
I will not sit idly by
For Nothing cannot sit 
Inside these prism walls I stand
And then I begin again......

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Man is never called beautiful.
But by peeling the bandage,
one illuminates the wound,
that rarely bleeds.

He wanders thru life
with feelings not well cultivated.
Seemingly, in a controlled panic
to make the moment agreeable.

But when he rises from the bubbling pool,
reversible expectations begin to bloom.
Hardy gentleness sprout,
only to swallow heart and soul....

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Time 
is 
in 
its 
hands,though 
not 
reversible,      
but 
we 
can 
learn 
from 
it,it 
tells 
of 
the 
scares 
and 
pain, 
history 
a 
daughter 
of 
time,          
the 
memories 
engraved 
forever 
in 
time,     
shall 
never 
be 
forgetten,           
shall 
we 
change 
or 
shall 
time 
do 
it 
for 
us,       
only 
the 
sands 
of 
time 
can 
tell....

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S ilence, means  not a  pee P
L ittle crickets   sadly twing E
E nsorcelled children   cring E
E nveloped in a fairy      cau L
P ratter ends and silence fall S



* A word which can be read forward as one thing
& backwards as another is called a semordnilaps
(PALINDROMES backwards), also known as heteropalindromes,
semi-palindromes, half-palindromes, reversgrams,
reversible anagrams, word reversals, or anadromes....

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(reversible poem — can be read up or down)

I AM A POET

Wild with intoxication

Soaring high with the wind

I become a song

Singing sadness

Singing happiness

Dizzy from the nectar of life

As I dance among the stars

Of a somewhere beyond

And hope to capture the twinkle

Between sheets of white parchment

Delirious, I bring you my treasure

I AM A POET

...

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I am
Weak
No more will I be
Able to walk straight
With my head held high, I am
Living a lie
I cannot continue on by
Rehearsing perfection to mask flaws
Under your shelter I reside to stop
The destruction of my esteem
I will not feed 
The fire within
As my insecurities grow, so too does
My apathy
I have disavowed
My dreams of success
I can clearly see
My failure
I will overcome
Nothing
I will cease to be
And...
This I am...

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I haven’t time to spin this verse 
I guess I’ll write this in reverse
The gears got stuck, now I’m in trouble
The lever’s jammed, the clutch is rubble
I can’t go forward, not one inch
I’m done-for now, I’m in a pinch
The shifter’s wedged in “R” (for race)
My gears are strewn about the place
I must write backwards; What a Curse!
I haven’t time to spin this verse

September 4, 2018
For the "Reversible Poem" Poetry Contest
2nd Place...

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We are humans 
Deprive from our dreams
Stamped with our color of skin
Admire our bold lives before dementia

We are humans 
Rules by handful in silence  
Slaves eager to win and gain
Freedom is a gold treated in losers market

We are humans
After all we created our daemons
As we the losers in dreams
Top to bottom cleanse ourselves

We are humans
It is a matter of decision
Wasted long doubt reversible
Step in may be still hope...

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The death of nearness:
it shuts the invite
I will ask moon for a targeted kill.

Move on, untouchable,
your tainted image
was unspectacularly terrible.

The contagious trachoma
has caught the impeccable face.
Do not tremble, I am burning in a glass,

a sisyphean ordeal of my choosing:
unpolluted, unthinkable,
in the body pain, flows like lava.

An eternal shredding of pigments
Unpeeling the smell of hate.
Can we go to our naked childhood ?...

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In loops of time, a dance unfolds,
Reversible dynamics, tales retold.
Curves closed in time's embrace,
A journey through the temporal space.

Past and future intertwine,
Echoes of moments, a cosmic design.
A paradoxical waltz, steps in reverse,
Time's secrets, a universe to traverse.

Circles of ages, entwined in a rhyme,
A dance with echoes, a surreal paradigm.
Through closed curves, the past relives,
In the ballet of time, where destiny gives....

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Full
of failure. I always feel
afraid
that I'm not
sufficient so
those I love are
left behind me. 
The mistakes of my past are
what shape my present. 
My hope and trust are
hurt
beyond
healing
There is
NO
redeeming me.
And what I believe is
that the hope of tomorrow
is fleeting, and all I know is
Emptiness

This is a reversible poem that can be read backwards (line by line) as well as forward.
In this case. The backwards reading has an opposite meaning....

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The death of nearness:
it shuts the invite
I will ask moon for a targeted kill.

Move on, untouchable,
your tainted image
was unspectacularly terrible.

The contagious trachoma
has caught the impeccable face.
Do not tremble, I am burning in a glass,

a sisyphean ordeal of my choosing:
unpolluted, unthinkable,
in the body pain, flows like lava.

An eternal shredding of pigments
Unpeeling the smell of hate.
Can we go to our naked childhood ?



SATISH VERMA...

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Fight your sickness
                                    Within your mind 
                               This Never-ending story.
                           Mirrors speak perverse sayings
                         As your body slowly forsakes you
                         Disease wreaks havoc on your soul
                                    Wasted existence,
                               Forever now forgotten 
                                     Death is eternal.

8/21/2018...

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