Templates Poems | Examples

Fray

The tailor rests in her workshop alone.
Grabbing the thread for the day's work ahead,
she begins pushing needle through cloth.

In exercise, she customizes garments, stitch by stitch,
Though it's slow, her craftsmanship shows
uniquely perfect alterations to all her customers' clothes.

Free of charge she'll embroider!
Weaving colorful flosses in and out,
she's leaving shapes and symbols of brightness about.

Now, next door resides a factory--
Producing pants and gray garb by the pound,
sewing seams a million a minute, 
machines militarily hum-- a deafening sound.

Though it's quick, embroidery: $2.50 a stitch!
Soon soulless, the town paces around;
robotic sporting same-sized sacks,
bland factory templates surround.

Yet the tailor still rests in her workshop alone:
knowing stitches sincere are those that are *****,
perfect to the individual, not the machine.

My Hobby

When it is time to send a greeting card
for birthdays, holidays, and more- each year,
my searching for the right one can be hard;
to make my own is personal and dear.

In my computer program- there I find
the graphic templates and poetic themes
to fashion cards appropriate and kind;
created with an inner love that beams.

Their names appear to let them surely know
my unique card is made for only them.
I print each out with envelopes that show
my matching sets are their artistic gem.

All friends and family look forward to
these cards that truly mean- from me to you.

Walking Between Talks

I don’t sense that God keeps score -- 
my guess, believing He already 
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and 
profitable confessions, 

ballot slips and extra altar sips, 
less Jung and more Freudian 

myself reasoning that, Lover and 
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free

For sure, by now, have learned my ideas 
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps

attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --

Charming Patterns

Charm the waves, 
Entail algorithms of templates,
Subclass the seasonal stripes, 

Smash this tasteless flame stitch. 
A chevron turning into an imperial damask. 

Intarsia the charming argyle in this rotunda.
Rub the blotch off the bull's eye,
Collage the camouflage in this calico assemblage. 

Chintz in the heart, chequer in the mind,
Charming Patterns.

Copius Abandon

Sunrise, sunset in adjacent systems blends behind 
a calm waterfall wake, the hollow unknown man only
minds his altruistic poems of prism alchemy--cleverly
arranging perfect crystal aurora petals against a
color coded ancient star Genesis, forming opulent
halos of Zen emptiness processions--guiding
bright shiny angel wings, keys to soaring paragons of
pellucid, avid, unborn, illusory gray imaginations, like
the savvy, siren Mermaids of Ursa Minora--giving way to
all en-viable spirits on the 4 winds of sagacity as the 
4 Horsemen on shadowy compunction ride, reign free
unchecked, under looming celestial cloud layer realms. 
Sitting on the high hills of home
feverishly flanked near open valleys of conscious
convergences, he softly speaks to a Promethean blank 
bliss, encountering morning light memories, open temporal
templates offering glowing, discarnate, latent, 
ascetic desires of a lasting, formless, empty existence.

Ring Around Religion

Cohort blasphemies 
where we Lie within ourselves
black mirror templates

More Than Transactions

I’m okay you’re okay

I’m not okay and that is okay


honour your parents 

but respect needs to be earned

blind obedience kills childhoods

and where right becomes wrong 

opposition becomes duty


genes and hand me down customs

un-reflected socialisation and traits

are a wicked combination of templates

for unexpressed emotions

and irrational thoughts


when defence mechanisms 

and blindfolded acceptance 

create no more than a chip

off the old block 

on one’s shoulder

to be okay

is definitely

not okay


yet in a way 

it is never too late

to have a happy childhood

because adults can play

and now I need

to talk to my Selves 

just a bit because otherwise

analysis becomes paralysis


07th September

written with Eric Berne's concept of transactional analysis in mind

Just the Way We Are

JUST THE WAY WE ARE


When on Friday morn'
we woke up hastily
children rushed to school
parents rushed to resume work
heavy traffic
hopping from one bus to another 
hiked transport fares were hurridly forgotten
and town hall meetings we must attend
classes take backdrops
raindrops mixed with teardrops fell on our cheeks
three years of hard work retracted
who do we tell our silent sobs
wasted midnight candles 
burnt whilst we tried to meet new promotion templates
is it a crime to work hard?
is it a crime to remain in the dark continent?
or is it...
just the way we are.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Boys in their fathers’ moulds grow
Recycling habits and tidbits seen
Enacted as fathers punches at mothers throw
As fathers’ tantrums grow mean. 

Boys in domestic settings grow well mannered
Aping fathers who set mellow manners’ templates
Boys replicate to avoid growing ill-mannered
When in future homes meals wives serve on peace plates.

Boys imbibe fathers’ Bible of Attitudes
Embracing silence and balance
Gleaned from meek fathers’ habitudes
That shy away from insolence insistence.

Boys braggart they become
If home templates preach arrogance
Whereas stable husbands in a future home
Grow from cultures promoting peace with a wife’s dance.

Common Sense Casserole

Common sense, larger than life
Encapsulated in minds that appreciate sanity’s value
To actualize and revitalize purposes more precious than strife
As people of goodwill enable diverse dreams to come true.

Common sense, invaluable ingredient
Couched in determined discourse
To set matters on the right gradient
And facilitate fruitful inter-personal intercourse.

Common sense, gravity glue
Fastening faces, aces and maces at variance
Endeavouring to validate value
Over impertinence, insolence and arrogance.

Common sense, pivot in human interaction
Immersed in templates teeming with opportunities
To promote quotes and votes for mutual benefaction
Despite chasms of infirm inanities and indignities.

Template To Save the Soul a Collaboration With Ivory Jones

Caught off guard in templates of color
 that feeling I have frozen in the flesh 
 is singed by the siege of beauty served

Burnt oranges,reds,and colors of ash
Lusciousness and fleshy desires
Is it just a depiction my eyes have envisioned

Created and demonstrated to cut the frame 
edging the sight to save the soul that saw 
poison in the passion of painted pictures

Our juices produced the perfect antidote 
Which laid the blueprint for the impeccable frame
Together our bodies permeated the template 

A border to beset the beast buried 
under the blunder of censored skills
with the site to see free in cyanide

Boarders now imperturbable 
Representation remains unblembished
Unwanted deciphering becomes unresponsive

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time (Templates)

Once upon a time
a lonely girl neglected 
worked among the cinders,
then with a pumpkin changed
and danced all night, the beauty of the ball.

A beast became a prince.
A fair one, raven-haired,
bit into an apple,
then lay inside a coffin
to waken later with a single kiss.

Plots of sugar spun
meant for our amusement
were taken as didactic;
as visions of a bliss;
for some, like me, as templates for romance.

A frog is still a frog.
A girl who is mistreated
might end up on the streets.
Transformed into a junkie,
she turns into a hooker for her john.

A beast remains a beast.
A girl might pose as blonde
and taste of life’s enticements;
then settle on one lover,
to languorously waken to her dawns.

Modern human tales
scatter my illusions.
As skin neath eyes start sagging,
can hope remain unflagging
as time so quickly leaves us all undone?


Feb. 2, 2017 
Sorry to take it to a darker place, Eve. That was how the theme inspired me

Unapologetically Yours

Unapologetic..
For realizing the comfort in perfect imperfections
For playing mischief with status quo
For the longing to touch as many lives in this lifetime
For the level of generosity that exhausts, empties and tires

Unapologetic..
For the bouquets of regrets, mistakes and struggles 
Decorated in the flower- vase labeled ‘yesterday’
For embracing today as an empty canvas
To paint stories worth-reading-out to ones’ grand children

Unapologetic..
For loving him or not is a call you take, not him
For being innocently dreamy eyed as was decades ago
For refusing the templates guide him dominate him
For living truth, being him, being the best version possible

Unapologetic…
For unlearning the school-society -rules that murder creativity
For smiling to heart’s content, laughing over uncertainity
For disappointing the naysayers with unrealistic hope 
For letting the heart win in the rope-race against mind

Coniferous

Oh how remarkable there is a milky star waving at us from the top left corner of the field. But templates are for idiots cried the ten centimetre bullock. Merely an eyed tooth. A sage. A mystic nightingale in a purple cloak. Don't be so pompous cried the dish of fried egg. I am a great wonder. A mish mashed assortment of yellow hue. In a flurry then. Flightless birds will and can soar. As to create is to design so don't argue with a culinary alchemist in a kiln. Breakfasts. Baskets. Ball. Ballooning. And breathe. One two three. In tutus in lines. On beaches. Draped. Draperies. Down. Downing. During. Coniferous. ***

My Mind Is Addled

Submitted for contest:  INSIDE MY HEAD - for "OLD" poets only - ;  
September 14, 2015 Haibun---Old Minds 
confusion, dream, how i feel, memory, nostalgia,
MY MIND IS ADDLED

My senior mind is game to rhyme
And to find those lost thoughts of mine

It tries to give a recount to all times forgot
My mind sparks faint all  incoming thought

They are misread from  all forethought templates
And experiences up to this point fails to find its mate

I try so hard to regain how I first thought as a child
And how I could dream then and make that thought wild


I had many trials and tribulations that were  waylaid 
If not learnt early enough they were tirelessly displayed

My  thought reruns are taken from down a too long memory lane
And my mind thinks on too far back to awake my tiered brain 

But unlike today when my mind is clear and comes awake
To speak again to those in ear shot for old time sake!
 

My old tongue gets tied
My old mind addled 
When led to rethink

• Short Templates Poems
• Famous Templates Poems
• Best Templates Poems
• Read Templates Poems
• Long Templates Poems
• Templates Quotes