Love does not walk
Hand in hand
On a one way street.
She had already
Turned the corner
There was someone else to meet.
Thieves plotted the street-weaver's doom;
and thus he just rented a room.
So "strange"- the pipes burst
and thieves were immersed...
weaver laughed and left with his loom.
August 28
Do you know about him
The little tall man
Living in the brown street
His lips are hard
Like where charcoal is made
He feels high more than alcohol
And always scorn his wild hair
Do you know about the natural leaf
That scorned him
For the first time
He feels his lips
With a sedative herb
And forms a circle in his skin
There are dirts
Waiting to be heaped away
He picks them up by chance
Along with a clipper
He moves with the cloud
Seeing double shadows on the way
Laughing at him
Finally at a waste bin spot
The dirts are abandoned
He picks up the clipper
This is the best place for hair cut
He sits loving the moment
While passersby share laughters
Life be uncivilized
Some days,
No heads-up-
Still we walk onward like fire
Won't fold us.
Pain
Runs late,
Lurking,
Long- winded existing
But we keep living like loss
Can't lock our light.
Hope
Hits hard,
Lifting
Low Spirits-
Letting lost legends lean
Back into their vigor.
There was a man in the Temple street
who went round and round the street
everyday begging for alms
never did he offer prayers
to the temple Gods for he was an atheist !
the street is a problem
the street is a fixer
the street is a fast start
the street is a fast fix
the street solve a problem
knowledge is a smart fix
knowledge is a fast fix
knowledge is a fast start of a fast fix
knowledge is a fast start of a fast problem
knowledge solve a problem
a rock is a rocky street
a rock is a rocky experience
a rock is a rocky problem
a fast start is a rocky start
a fast start is a rocky experience
a rocky experience,a fast problem
a rocky experience,a smart experience
a rocky experience,a smart problem
a problem fix a problem
a problem fix a fast start
a fast fix fix a fast problem
Mommy cat and four kittens
oops, neighbor ran over Mittens
Now four cats still alive
another ran over three survive
Three cats left across the street
since two ran over becoming road meat
Mommy cat with her kittens two
come to my yard wanting food
Get my dogs in a barking mood
that mommy cat and her two dudes
These three cats with the Nine Life Jive
look both ways while crossing street still alive
The street scored two victims could be more
if the cats cross street with pedal floored
Life is fragile times we cry
nothing so sad as when a kitten dies
But we must be strong and carry on
for those three cats won't leave my lawn
Start the Truck Mike...
Y60TH I WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT DEAD ON 60TH STREET MY DAUGHTERS EX IN SON FATHER'S FAMILY'S THEY USE TO BABYSIT MY GRANDDAUGHTER YKIRBY HER MOTHER LIVED ON 60TH STREET NOT ME STOP SENDING TERRORIST THREATS ON LICENSE PLATES INTIMIDATION I NEVER LIVED ON 60TH STREET YKIRBY MOTHER PERKINS RESIDED ON 60TH I HATED THAT MY DAUGHTER TOOK MY GRANDDAUGHTER TO THAT BAD NEIGHBORHOOD WITH HER BOY FRIENDS GRANDMOTHER HER DAUGHTER WOULD BE YOUR YKIRBY ON 60TH STREET TODAY I'M GETTING INJECTIONS IN MY HEAD WHY TERRORIZE ME WITH THREATS Y60TH WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED ON 60TH STREET YOU THREATENING THE WRONG YOLANDA
Nadine and
Dianne Dougherty's one
hundred and
eighty detained tonguing grey-
hounds were
heard to be denying any
dainty handouts or
unadorned rough hy-
dration treatments from the
eighty or so once weedy
youths who had dared to
face their dread by
grunting their
way clear through in-
dentured servitude to a
naughtier space for
authoring gutsy hind-
sight recollections of
satan's black sun san
francisco church in
all of its
morning glory seedliness.
Ever-optimistic
for fun and games
one may dream
of peaches and cream
and tho' the primrose path
may razz our berries
life ain't always a bed of roses
or just a bowl of cherries
for the latter comes with stones
as has the former prickles
we must pick and choose
which way our fancy tickles
I’ll be coming breaking loose
Out of my shell
Moving is the way I choose
Now it’s preferable
Down the easy street I’ll go
To the seaside bar
I’ll be curious to know
What the changes are
It’ll be good to hear the news
From the horse’s mouth
Who’s to win and who’s to lose
Who’s to flying south
Then I’d listen to the run
Of the lazy waves
Sitting on the muted sun
Smilingly I’d gaze
To the sea beneath my feet
And I’d breathe that air
Though there ain’t no easy street
That would lead me there
It’s the little nuance I
Should’ve taken to expense
Easy street’s detour sign
On the road work fence.
Street lights in the clouds
Beneath my feet is heaven
Kiss me Africa
For some reason, the distant scenes have drawn nearer,
whilst the foreground has begun to drift into view in fragments
of even larger images
Appearing and disappearing
Perspectives rush past
At arm’s length
I cross horizons like a zebra crossing
On the streets I see my reflection
In the windows of houses that stand
Three thousand miles from where I am
I can hear Bartók’s First Violin Concerto
Which the last time I listened last summer
I’ve no explanations of what’s happening
A vast world
Is showering me with a flood of unanswered requests
I stand beneath an invisible avalanche
Requests, requests, requests, and each one
Has a ‘return to sender’ stamp
My sense of perspective is gradually returning
I see a row of houses, somehow familiar to me
Rows of green recycling bins
Standing in the bright sunshine, on that street
Where I never quite managed to take a walk.
On some street,
To meet someone, I hurry and quicken my late steps.
People I pass by, catching my eye by chance—
They walk along, talking as if they only exist in their own world.
The moment our eyes meet by pure coincidence,
They hesitate, as if about to say something, then simply pass me by.
Then, I look around.
The older generation, still walking with urgent, hurried strides.
In contrast, the youth, walking along with such leisure.
What kind of hopes do they cherish within their lives?
I begin to walk once more.
Someone bumps into me in the crowd,
Venting an aimless anger at me before rushing off into the distance.
Where on earth are they all walking toward?
Today, again, caught by the digital clock shining in front of that store,
I keep running toward my destination.
shun the encroachment of the dark
focus intently at the task at hand
blinded to peripheral vision
wriggle free of your silhouette
present beyond the corner
circles encompass
captured by crescents
spinning in their circular hold
neither freedom nor imprisonment will ride
reality is just the ache of the dream
the muddled yell & yawn
every emotion a mere numbing agent
sometimes, I think I peeled away the relief
but the block forms are pattern upon pattern
and I'm a diminishing darkness
at the approach of dusk.
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.