Short Sourest Poems

this hour us gather
at...
the po (at tree site)

for...
thee SOAR us
seek that...

the sorest
and...
the sourest

need...
this hour as
a thesaurus...


stan sand...

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i cannot speak but print
be about as accurate
as possible without
problems that be
a pronunciation
difficulty of a
single point
trying to
be as
the sourest of all my...
leftovers


len

(cof...cofcofcof....)...

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She made me live a life
full of life unnoticed
The sweetest contempt
from the sourest love
My broken parts amble by drizzled people
Cracking through frozen mist
that i wear with such aplomb
Drifting on long dead love
and never finding home...

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Fade back-

picture rap,

this here is capped,

my movement strap.


One voice,

a toy,

diibullar roid!! 

I don't take voids!!!

I supply the stores,

dish on a pour because we ignore,

we don't score!

We don't admonish the sourest implore!

The envelope they licked scolded our whole......

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Mona Lisa, the lady I greatly adore
See her sophisticated beauty I implore
Put her portrait not in a large frame, but thin
She will surely give to you all her sourest grin













Written: Oct. 7, 2012

Honorable Mention
Contest: Seeking A Fresh Crop of Clerihews
Judged: 10/20/2012
Poet Sponsor: Andrea Deitrich...

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“Tis pain not concern, life in earth hath become off as vague scorn. 
      The poison of asp drips ahead of her tongue…her honeycomb hath dried… 

       Life sourest as wine gone wild of natural fermenting, 
       wrong of love she chose extreme delusion ere her love of truth. 
       Loose the yoke, chaotic, psychosis, strife let life's people renew.”...

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a hardening mangosteen
with wounded white seeds
increasing into rotten arrogance
of monstrous'  velocity

sentimentality-
rises slowly to the skin
emitting cerebral poison
flavored with the sourest 
and most bitter condiments

as troubled being 
devours senseless hurt
sentimentality’s lava
flows drifting soul into sin


June 4, 2022      9.52am...

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In the ripening air, petite blueberries of delight,
Barely ready to be devoured, so sour, float to me

and I catch each one with my mouth and I smush them.
Pulpy goodness almost satisfies. I tingle
like a dog during winter's first sprinkle.

The smallest - the sourest, are the hardest.
The sweetest I can mash with my lips alone.
My cresting tongue would like to savor....

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A passerine bird,
One of the smallest of sizes,
With a beak almost minute.
On its beak you can count many;
the tiniest to biggest,
the slimmest to the fattest,
the lightest to the heaviest,
the ugliest to the finest,
the sourest to the sweetest,
the slowest to the swiftest.
All on this paltry beak,
it houses them all.
And what do you liken this beak to?
A lad's might,it is....

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The Elect Lady
~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven in earth hath
become hell as woman scorn. The poison
of asps drips forth of her tongue…her honeycomb
hath dried… 
Life sourest as wine gone foul of sweet fermenting. 
Amiss of love,  a strong delusion of her was chosen, ere 
her love of truth. Loose the yoke, chaotic, 
psychosis,  Pharaoh let her people go.”~


For and in Honor of  Wandering Butterfly
And Contest: Romeo and Juliet; How tragic is Love...

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