the eye-catching leaves
strutting in the gentle breeze~
November spotlights
leaves spin to silence
as they sway among the trees~
bright thirsty blossoms
floral leaf coated
make a motion to the stream~
golden craving blooms
cold first migration
a white feather falls gently~
as opposed to drift
Written: November 12, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
If we put the wisdom of providence on one plate of the cosmic scales, and the mysteries of luck on the other one;
the bottom line will turn out a third mystery. Let's say, our individual value in the universe.
Would not the deficiencies of one plate be made up for by the surplus of the other?
What if I were a bird or a tiger?
What if butterflies and bees are human?
And tall bamboos were brooms sweeping
Streets of heavens while lilies were citizens
Of the skies and frogs are rulers of the universe!
May be then, stars were teardrops of gods
And goddesses who lamnted upon the blunder
They made when we were created,
With our scheming intelligence.
The sun, pethaps, was supposed to be a spicy fruit;
And the moon, obviously, a sliced watermelon!
Soul of a cat roared, inside me,
And a hand as large as a country,
Descended on my face and a mouth
As wide as the sea of hatred we brewed
In our cardiac jars opened,
And asked me -What would you like to become,
If given the chance?
I replied - A feather in the headgear of a chief
Called Laughing Bear, who wielded a quill
Called poetry!
And I woke up with a head-banging hangover.
Let us have a swapping party
I’m not placing any bets;
This could be so eco-friendly
Money saved and no regrets!
We can try a bit of swishing
Let us have a swapping party
Unlike shopping no guilt feeling
Choices range from prude to tarty.
One more chance we give to clothing
It’s recycling at its best
Let us have a swapping party
Put emotions to the test.
Friends can meet and share some gossip
In good faith; the talk is hearty;
Bring whatever for exchanging
Let us have a swapping party.
And next time we’ll make it arty!
Bring your partners – touch of sultry.
Let us have a swapping party!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A young boy couldn't think of a gift,
that he could ask Santa to bring.
And though time was running out fast;
he still didn't ask for anything.
Christmas Day was approaching fast,
as a cold wind began to blow.
And yet, snug in his rubber boots:
his feet were kept warm in the snow.
Through the storm, he spotted a boy:
a street waif, with a runny nose.
And he was wearing shabby boots;
with holes, where one could see his toes.
The boy suddenly had a thought;
I'll gift him mine; I can get more.
And so, swapping boots, he ran home,
knowing what to ask Santa for.
On Christmas, as the church bells rang,
the boy's heart was bursting with pride.
For, in the spirit of Christmas,
he felt a warm feeling inside.
His new rubber boots Santa brought
stood shining bright under the tree.
And he smiled as he put them on,
for he felt he'd earned them, you see.
By twilight we shall reach Torchwood
to spy on an insane time lord
let's delete him
then send him
straight to Mt. Erebor
then knock out a lowly hobbit,
kidnap him
and toss him in the Tardis
Once he wakes up
we take a step back
to see what happens next!
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.