Uraeal: "The symposium has brought forth the headless horseman, most metaphorically driven to sundown by the celestial charade."
Helel: "Is oft the token be, curse, cursed, or has our sullied names been frothing clean in the sea, like a mind's eye seeing through another portal in the hemisphere?"
Aurora: "I claim lightly like wind, so let's unwind the orchard from that place of plenty, shooting stars strike like platform shoes for nimble fey dancers."
Lucifer: " I might soon turn down the star, and unfold more atramentous ink from which spillage is at once appreciated and birch, prying eyes see far in the dark for some."
The forbidden one: *enters from the left, and softly cascades the waters of newer rivers over the timbers and planks*
---End of act I---
a Rhyming Alliterisan poem
A slick, soaking spring rain stops
picnic plans and closes shops
in the valley and village
as river’s runoff spillage
inundates us inside-out,
overflowing all our spouts~
until sun breaks wide the sky.
****
The Rhyming Alliterisen consists of 7 lines, with 7 syllables each, and has one alliteration in every line. The rhyme scheme as follows: aabbccd.
Italics, seek to emphasize.
Sacrifice, thy spill.
Seer and prophet, inner eyes.
Oracle, see nil.
Happiness, thy fate is doom.
Engraved on a tomb.
Belladonna, thy full bloom.
Heart of mine? No room...
Wind, carry the sparks of fire.
Cicadas, shriek loud.
Blessed is a dark desire?
Humble thus the proud.
Union of tomorrow?
It's got to start today.
Soil, what is thy sorrow?
Whene'er I blow away.
Castle weighted down with ice?
Well, 'twill stop a siege.
Penury, plight, poison, price.
Light a match, my liege.
Wicker man, thy nick'ring mare.
Fingernails to pare.
Death arises from despair?
Bet I'll see you there.
Hair beneath a river's flow?
Warrior, you slipped.
Gold: the reason all men go!
Quahog, how you quipped!
Tympani, train thy temper.
Tomorrow, tamarisk.
Tale and talent, take the tour.
Time the torrent brisk...
The blank field is a whitewashed wall
between
eyes and incipient thought.
A neatly printed line
emerges out of nothing,
fingers sleep
as they plant words in inky rows.
Meaning searches for meaning,
each symbol is a cracked seed
shed from a blacked-out window -
brain particles blindly seeking.
There is meaning here,
but it is as yet formless,
what is seen is slough and spillage,
mind-molt
struggling into an appearance
of notion and idea.
Now the word is flesh, a glossolalia,
a mute speaking in tongues, yet
breathless of any spirit.
At once the painted parody of self
is free to wriggle forth,
to sew and bind together
discernable images,
it must surface above the silent page,
lift up the emblematic
as the hammer-arm
of the insubstantial, until deciphered
by other necromancers
who then speak
for the dead-voiced word.
This then is the tipping point:
the space between sight and seen,
a place to speak into existence
the once immaterial
or surrender all coherence
to the un-lettered reticence of God.
He walks alone through the hush of morning,
dew balancing like prayers on blades of grass.
above him, a red kite wheels as geometry drawn
and for a moment,he forgets what we’ve done.
the earth is still kind,still spills blossom from trees
we’ve maimed all that is good with our distain
let rivers write sermons through concrete and spillage.
yet even now,she forgives us, the mother can be kind.
As he stands beneath a birch that grows despite the plastic
coiled at its roots his hand touches the bark there’s warmth.
Its life refusing to retreat from it greatest enemy homoerectus
the weight and menace of opposable thumbs.
Spillage on my picture,
Dark black creature,
Now you can see the
White lines, purple, either.
Running up my arms like a suture, churning
Piercing gaze through the dark, hurting,
In and out like quick breath, blurting,
But all I don’t see front is certain,
Bright like medic hand, mine or my brand,
But all I understand is draw the curtains.
Now, that the world is getting purer and cleaner
everyday
who clear incoherently harbour dirts and spillage around.
Is it not the hand meant for cleaning and washing
and working out this and some of the other things?.
And the mouth for eating and drinking and talking
and laughing and many ,many, many other wishes
of sort kind?.
And foot and leg for us to reach out the dustbin for
instance?.
The dirt can't be a waste products perse nor the hand
a part of such dilemma nor the skull a kick hell out
of a thing cup? nor what dramatic human right nor
political taboo?.
I have a problem and that is true is quite different
from I have problem and that is true?.
Why then these people pollute nature
when already it's suffers contamination and stagnancy
and spillaging and wasting like quacks and qualms.
SPILLEGE SPOIL SYBER SIST-- Vogon Unofficial Anthem Poetry
Infused intensity of immense ignorant
Boils of blast feme burbling
Crackle and gilling clump coils
Of filament retardants…..coverings
Egos frost bitten frozen bumps
Cabbage patch dolls provocateur
Running ruins caveating wretch
Worldly scum virgate arresting…..whose
Developing deepen darts of daze
Daring divorced deities
Spillage spoil syber sist
Rope gatherings of responsive reeps…..what?
Tweet twik ti tork
Tweet twik ti tork
Tork twik ti Tweet
Wailing walls worship waters sung-songs
Of open offensives offerings
Spillage spoil syber sist
Vested virtues very vast
Undermining unfixed unumerously…..anthem
Spillage spoil syber sist
1/17/25
For Vogon Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Stepping in water, displacing the pool.
Walking prudently in body and mind.
For there is no room for a squatter,
forcing spillage over water’s bind
Secure a space for your form,
sitting gingerly at witness.
One cannot see past the water's norm.
Hence be one within it.
Pointing fingers, wagging tongues,
the "blame game" never gets things done..
Steamy anger and it's spillage never
heals the hurting village..
Don't just stew and act fettered, work
to make things a bit better..
Inside our living room, there stood a table.
Three legs it had; its round top was unique.
Mom kept it in the corner, and she’d say
so proudly that the table was antique.
Well polished, it had a vase atop it,
and flawless was its base, legs widely splayed.
One day, with Mom away, we moved it to
another room. A few games we then played.
Our chairs fit well round that three-legged table
as we played our Yahtzee and Crazy Eights.
A lovely afternoon we spent, just I
with two of my dear sisters as my mates.
One sister (I can’t recall which one now)
brought drinks to us, and just as Mom walked in,
I spilled my drink! Mom became hysteric
as if I had committed some great sin!
She yanked us off our chairs and quickly wiped
the spillage – yelling at us the whole time.
The table got put back into its corner,
and we were punished for our little crime.
The vase was put back on the table’s top,
and we three got no soup that night to sup.
Mom’s in a nursing home now; we’ve all grown.
I wonder where that table ended up!
i'm saddened today from the....neverending spillage of
children's blood
Litter here, litter there
Piles of litter everywhere.
Bins half empty or piled high
Too much packaging in supply.
Plastic, paper, metal cans
Liquid spillage in sea and lands.
Waters full of micro beads
Man-made plastic, choking seeds.
Wasted food turns to stench and rot
Flies and rats love those spots.
Wrappers, *** butts, strewn about
Selfish litter louts without a doubt.
Dumping rubbish is our failure
A lazy, filthy human behaviour.
We are failing earth and nature
Can we change or even save her?
Written 01.04.23 (Not For Contest)
Raspberry, as glaringly large
Package with bulk, bulging.
Squirrel-eyed and squirrel-grasped.
Nuts, bells; enough weighing!
Thinks me, thinks he, if and once dropped:
"The spillage! Red flood-tide!
Every brown leaf to re-tint!
As yet branched high and wide!"
Grandmas I teach how to suck eggs:
Marathoners long use of legs,
Soon hurting Enlightened People;
Might sooner unleash a ripple;
What would she say: The Western World?
Possibly, a heart is now galled!
Yet, will I this brash task perform
To a condom culture reform...
Thumb and forefinger on its tip
Making sure the two don't off slip:
For air removing at its tip,
Before facing your partner's hip;
Its space for Ejaculation
That fetches congratulation!
Condom roll over your organ
Like perfectly does Morgan,
Not rubbing off lubricant;
You won't end up communicant!
Job finished off slide no spillage
Or else one should query your age;
Your used condom for disposal
A vital point in espousal.
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.