#1
in Yogi Year
number
Eight Seventy-
One all
bear facts hidden
from our Dungeon
Eyes up
'til then will sud-
denly
be revealed
#2
an honest hungry Dune Grey-
hound rarely says
that it will
settle for simply non-fat
plain yoghurt
#3
at its height the Seething Hy-
drogen Plasma will leave its den to
invent the End that's long been in store
for us
You, with your everlasting sorrow mom
deserve nifty hands and healing ways of
You, who always loved with the truest calm
now sit bereft of food and needs God's glove
You, the womb that bore consecrated Zen
sit still with your emptiness praying that
You, will once more be as fertile as a hen
fresh as the ocean in God's special vat
You, who have given us bounty with grace
have birthed a sapling, a seed, and the bud
You, Mother Earth whos honest clean faced
has always provided with substance and sud
They, who have loitered and taken your fresh,
are caught in a web, they cannot dis-enmesh.
When the sunset comes
And the blue sea is wavy
Tide brings a sud tale.
Also named the hummingbird vine
the hummingbirds adore this bud
it is a perennial beauty
a star shaped flower so divine;
with varied shades it loves to flood
the garden, she is so lovely
that the bearded thornbills pine
for her sweet nectar summer sud
and love, she is a sight to see
This flower blossoms with ol' shine
inviting him for gentle scud
across the gentle folds with glee;
She consigns her candied nectar,
to a hummingbird injector.
June 14, 2023
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Trilonnet Chose Image # 3
Chantons tous avec le coeur
La Croix de Malte est ma bannière
Vous avez un nom du héros portugais
Vasco da Gama, votre renommée a été faite
Votre immense foule est très heureuse
Nord-sud, nord-sud de ce Brésil
Ton étoile, qui brille sur Terre, Illumine la mer
En athlétisme tu es un bras
En ramant tu es immortel
Dans le football, vous êtes le trait
Union Brésil-Portugal
En athlétisme tu es un bras
En ramant tu es immortel
Dans le football, vous êtes le trait
Union Brésil-Portugal
Chantons tous avec le coeur
La Croix de Malte est ma bannière
Vous avez un nom du hoeros portugais
Vasco da Gama, votre renommée a été faite
Votre immense foule est très heureuse
Nord-sud, nord-sud de ce Brésil
Ton étoile, qui brille sur Terre, Illumine la mer
En athlétisme tu es un bras
En ramant tu es immortel
Dans le football, vous êtes le trait
Union Brésil-Portugal
En athlétisme tu es un bras
En ramant tu es immortel
Dans le football, vous êtes le trait
Union Brésil-Portugal
This evening in our flat there rose a flood
That made our rooms and entrance hall a lake
As unattended bath-taps churned the sud
Into a foaming torrent by mistake
Our darling daughter whom we shall not name
Had nonchalantly turned those bath-taps on
Before returning to some film or game
Or following the social pantheon
Behind her mobile phone she lay enthralled
Forgetful of the steaming waters’ rise
Which overflowed in bathside waterfall
And blitzkrieged our apartment in a trice
Too late the cry was raised and taps were closed
And towels press-ganged as mops then stemmed the tide
And floors as clean as if they’d been steam-hosed
Emerged pristine as all those cork-tiles dried
“All’s well that ends well” - wrote of old the Bard
Thus did our flood not clean our dusty flat?
Sadly not all; for as those tiles turned hard
The margin of each one grew thick and fat
Alas our hallway and our bedroom floors
That once were smooth and level, now did change
Into a row of bumps, as slowly soars
From crashed tectonic plates a mountain range
we meet
she is
delightful
she covers
my ignorance
she speaks
English
we share eye
conversation
and smile re
lations but
her tongue
is hissing
this
this could be
yours if you
swear a
sworn
oath
to be
only
mine and sud
denly the tarot's
dealt every
thing in my
favor so
my nod
is as
if
well
it is
with
no
doubt
a yes
Defunctive smoke
From the brain
Rankles the soul:
An eternity of ignorance.
There are no marrams for skin.
Marquetry of bones
Intricacy assumes
Hoodwinking eyes
That see only nudes.
Whining gin.
Phthisic mind
Transhumanizes darkness
Swaddling rain
In a hollow pearl.
Aperient paraffin.
Happiness now:
Being straddled in the sun,
Juvescence:
Fustigating the sea.
It’s win win win.
Inside the gall bladder,
The unstilted oyster
Is condited:
Redundant sud.
Quite self-akin.
Concite the hymns of Satan
If you find yourself perjured,
Faith is more recondite
Than delirium.
Terribly consanguine.
Win win win!
There are no marrams for skin!
-Pin Dew (01/05/2017)
The horizon cuts straight, long, hard
silently declining less than a degree
like toys across a cartoon’s one frame stillness
a small yacht rocks like a child’s boat
a helicopter putters, a small jet silently
bellies over the sea thundering suddenly
against a graded blue sky
children flying a kite
a plummeting twisting tied bird in its death throes
falling from the warm seemingly red-speckled blue
broken only by a smudge of grey cloud
curling white-tipped waves swirl against rocks
a lonely Zen-meditative crab in their shade
the sand, ridged, striated, pockmarked
small holes left as bubbling miniature blowholes
fine lines webbed around
sand rippled like the sea, waved and cleansed
a poetic transgression? – Neptune’s impost?
the soap-sud foam his in-coming joyful jouissance
the thin receding water a pin-spot bridal veil
and a bridal train, its white scalloped lace edge
pleating, folding, hiding under the next wave
in rippling curving line-patterns
Dehy-
dra-
tion
r
e
a
r
r
a
n
g
i
n
g
my
mi
nd
go in g
SCRABBLE
on me.
ag
ai
n
th
en
all of a
sud
den-
all the lights go out.
Write their names in better than the dark mud
Where they died; their life like the wasted sud
Of washed out things; they were the soldiers of the village
The warriors of a hidden war
They saved us from plunder and pillage
And wore with honor their stigma and scar
We had the worst address in the world paling Nazareth too
But we had love, cared for each other
Minotaur saw the weak and knew our brother
Wrap their names in flags of honor too.
Teddy, the short one, Galdys' son
Lascelles, the handsome one,
And Big Ben with muscles to lift a ton
The athletes were Little wicked, and Sonny
The fell like leaves one by one
And no flag flew at half mast in Canterbury
But look at the place, how each find its rank
And without order besieged the bank.
O Canterbury, I remember your sons
Your daughters, and the runs
Of formal power without justice to the rooms
Disshevelled like graveclothes in empty tombs.
Surefooted, sure fisted,razor tough
If I should fight that war again
I would want one for the going rough
Like yourself,
Fair and fractured
When the friendship slough
No claim to be a paragon of anything
Just an average man in your own eyes
While I hoisted you like a kite
Above naseberry trees and bush
Above the gormandizing sea
Above the Compound's red mud
Carrying the archeological memory
Of man's life like a sud
A mere consequence of a theory's lie
It was your mating urge that first
Lured you into the systems net
Thereafter your life became troubled
Wandering around the wilderness of regret
Framed like a pirate's ghost
Stereotyped and labeled
I still do not think you guilty of their crime
Your demonization came before your destruction
And when you died
I cried and cried at such a useless end
My fearless friend would never be at my back again
But tears will water pain, and still brings nothing back.
Staring uneasily through the smoke I do
Put myself in this predicament with nothing to gain but a vacant mind.
But then again. . .Inspiration comes with a price to pay.
Incomplete connections spell-check my ambitions
Only this time, I know it will be different.
Delete the next line for sensitivities sake
You will never know the real me, and I choose to keep it that way.
what
ONCE
pumped
LIFE
in
LUBB
dubb
CA dence
SUD den LY
is
STILL
still
.
.
.
....................................................................................................................................................
time of death: 1:47
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.