Spate Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Zen mode

we’re fooled not by caress of bliss sedate ~
it’s power is potent when in full spate

The Lucky Old Man

There was an old man from Keokuk,
Who suffered a spate of bad luck,
He said with a grin,
When he finally got in,
I couldn't buy a break for a buck!

Premium Member Almost Empty Hourglass


In the wilderness of life’s changing landscape, 
the pathway across the tortuous topography 
winds through perceived present to formless future,
I traverse following the faint footprints of fate. 

Many surging streams in spate I swim in storm 
with hopes held close to the heart lest they drown.
Chasing the beguiled butterflies in the verdant valley      
the fervent dreams fly through the rainbow arc.
 
As the spent sun sinks in the tinge of twilight, 
from the cryptic crypt of uncertainty I look back, 
see the snapshots of convivial contentment, 
resplendent in the benevolent glow of God’s grace.

With weary steps I now walk the last mile,
perceive the beginning of the journey’s end.
The sands of my penultimate time slide away fast,
I sense the rolling hourglass is almost empty.


Be true to thine self and shine



It is the lairiest of epochs

Ignore slop do a pop vox

Chock a block with shocks


But the scariest of tik toks

Snapping like hungry crocs

Another spate of hate docks


Photos that everyone clocks 

Those ones who girls mocks

Are as deadly as small pox


Aren't all as strong as an ox

Shaking from online knocks

Drowning in instasham lochs

Stinks like young men's socks


Mistaking that a cure’s botox

Crowning a theory I defrocks

That faking makes you a fox


Solution sells comes out a box

Lies stir fries in corporate woks

Smells fishy like out of date lox


Why jog cheat the elite flocks

Fatty injections vanity smocks

As the poor everything hocks

Pharma firm flogs all its stocks 


Not just peahens also peacocks

Androids on steroids rippled jocks

Muscle bound like the Springboks

Why are so many blokes.. cocks?


How about all go on a long detox

Take note your boat you’re the cox

Winner is the inner you which rocks

Fashion rations compassion is bollox!

Premium Member Show me God

the looming distance between head and heart
is bridged when mind is instrumentalised 
used when needed, otherwise rested 
whence truth of Self is realised
being our light innate and intimate
torrent of bliss magnetism in full spate

Premium Member Void-centric view

As light ineffable illumining form,
with heart that feels, mind that thinks and senses five,
caressed by the breeze, currents both cool and warm,
the vehicle ensouled seems to be alive,
though it is but dust, swirled about in the storm,
wherein formless presence is he who does jive,
so as that, not this, polarities rotate,
where from the void, we watch torrents in full spate.


Paths

I see a spate of branching paths
before me in the woods,
do not have time to take them all,
so wonder which I should?
Being cursed with real wanderlust,
I feel the dread in me,
if I choose one, not the others,
what thing will I not see?
Will this one reach a waterfall,
mossy rock in a glen?
Will that one reach a twisting gorge
that I’ll not see again?
Does that one go up to a ridge
where long vistas stretch out?
Does this one go down to a lake,
with frogs hopping about?
Or do they present false choices,
going nowhere unique,
just more of the same forest grounds
with nothing great to seek.
But could I live with the regret
if I missed something grand?
Or do I waste precious hours
just roaming normal lands?
I know the choice that many make,
and yet, I still must go;
I guess I’m wired to explore,
and my soul needs to know…

Big hitters love all that glitters



Tech Rex big hitters

Respect what glitters

Our new babysitters

Not Grandma knitters

X cortex hex twitters

Hate mission transmitters

Gaza or Persian fritters

Emission spate emitters

Vile bile style spitters

Culture war splitters

Astringent mocktail bitters

Seedier leader flitters 

Don't get the jitters

Don't be permitters

The media embitters

Don't become quitters

Need pinch hitters

This lot are critters

What's in cats' litters

All just bullshi**ers

Claps and back slaps to the Black Caps chaps



Delighting our Black Caps chaps

Uniting fans fighting nite nite naps 

Gaslighting Indian foes mishaps 

Rewriting those cricketing maps 


As the Black caps hit their straps

Darryl the toast the host soul saps

Gunbarrel straight out of the traps

They unravel yet another six slaps


Our great festive carol never flaps

A late Christmas pressie unwraps

Flicks & tricks spate picks the gaps

Indian spinners fate sinners lapse


Black caps chaps claps & back slaps 

Kiwi yippee we see diddy GP scraps

Even that fat cat Virat finally snaps

Zen of Darryl and Glen victory laps


After white-wash a chance perhaps?

Hitch both Ajaz & Mitch under wraps  

No Will or Matt but still Indians zaps 


The plush crushed can’t turn off taps

Out gunned out spun another collapse

Lush waves rush flush with Black caps

Any Editor to Any Poet

These weak attempts at verse could not be droller.
Your stuff is less inviting than ebola
(but not as catchy).  Wordier than Emil Zola,
you haven’t got the steam to be a roller.
I’ve seen more cutting-edge in Pepsi-Cola.
You clearly honed your style in Fuengirola.
About as challenging as last year’s “¡Hola!”
(I’m sure you’re highly thought of in Angola.)

But that aside, I need a favour, mate.
The flood of would-be Shakespeares is in spate.
I’d like you to review – that is, donate
your time and talent (at the going-rate,
which happens to be zero.)  Desecrate
the pricks who prattle, and the prigs who prate.
Denounce, detract.  Indulge that gelding hate
that wells in all of us.  The cut-off date
is looming, so get hacking.  Don’t be late!

Premium Member Here now this

Immediate and intimate,
is the light of Self, filled with bliss,
an ocean of love, in full spate,
in time stretched peace, nothing amiss.

The pulse of peace in heart imbibed,
immediate and intimate,
a state that cannot be described,
is rapture that does not abate.

To reclaim soul’s light is our fate,
bliss magnetism divine sublime,
immediate and intimate
conjuring in heart, a love rhyme.

Path to heaven as we retrace,
chakras whir, polarities mate,
enabled solely by God’s grace,
immediate and intimate.

Apocalypse

Apocalypse 

There is thunder, and lightning 
The land is laid bare
The elements doing a death dance
Destruction in a frenzied dance 

The trees trust the earth, the ground shakes
The mobile, helter skelter
The waters that give life, in spate 
Uprooting everything meant to be constant 

The lava flows here, acid rains there
The land trembles and disrupts elsewhere 
Somewhere, a tornado swipes
While the Tsunami sweeps clean existence 

The annihilation is defining 
Yet a survivor stands witness
to an apocalypse manufactured
Now has to start all over again 

The hunger, beyond the wounds, growls 
Forced to hunt anything that survived
Carrion looks inviting 
The last hunter is hunted

Premium Member Point Of No Return


Across the wandering life’s changing dynamic landscape,
I traversed following the footprints of destiny
the tortuous pathway in the undulating topography,
that winded for me, tracking the trail of racing time 
to the amorphous future, taking the ordained shape,

Many streams in spate I had swam with passion 
across the waves of somber squall.
With the buds of nascent hope clutched close to heart.
I chased butterflies in the blooming valley of flowers,
with dreams flying through the rainbow archway.

Drifting with the whistling wind in the forest,
the radiant rays from the sunburst sky 
seeped in to enwrap me with ecstasy.    
Navigating the wasteland at night I found your arms,
I saw love glow on dew in my meadow at dawn.

The spent sun sinks at the edge of the twilight zone,
across the disappearing trail of the time past,
marked by the fading footprints of fulfillment.
Walking the last mile, I’ve reached the point of no return,
the weary footsteps can’t take me back.

Premium Member Rush Hour

Written May 6, 2025, For Contest Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud

          ************

Red on green traffic run,
hasty flags of pink shun
one hour before high sun.

Feel the surge of spate wind,
icy kiss grooms the rind
tiptoe through rush hour, timed.

Hexaline Form Created by Nette Onclaud: 6 lines with 6 syllables, Rhyming or not

Premium Member Forgiveness

In your eyes I see anger reign, 
you splutter words like acid rain.
Sane sense turns to ash in my view,
as I discover myself new

I don’t drag you in pit of hate, 
don’t blaze in revenge fire in spate.
The wrath in my soul you can’t spew,
as I discover myself new.

I drown you in forgiveness flow,
shower of pity wets you slow.
You rise from ash of remorse true,
as I discover myself new.

I pray to God, give strength of mind,        
to wrongdoers I can be kind. 
Show my soul right course to pursue,
as I discover myself new.

Sub Categories

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.

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