ten words random rhymes
every day I see our president
Trump proclaims that he will be president
his image haunts my dreams
dystopian nightmares propels my dreams
as the president proclaims he is president
the end of republic follows
no one hears our screams
He ushers in endless dreams
fascism inspires
our collective screams
national poetry month Day three prompt write a poem based on ten random words
1.Corrosion
Consisting
Of
Red
Rusting
Old
Steel
Iron
Oxidizing
Naturally
2.Signature
Singing
Involving
Guarantying
Noting
Approval
Though
Using
Required
Etching
3.Seal
Something
Etched
Approving a
Letter
4.Confused
Crisscrossing
Original
Notion
Frustrating
Using
Sounds
Equally
Disturbing
5.Cuddle
Continuous
Unity
Divine
Declaration of
Love
Evolving
6.Subconscious
Sealed
Under the
Brain
Continuing
Over
Numerous
Sections
Causing
Internal
Oversights
Using our
Subconscious
7.Attach
Adhering
Together
Two
Agreeably
Clutching
Harmonious
8.Surprise
Shocking
Us
Repeatedly
Possessing
Radical
Internal
Scary
Events
9.Contort
Causing
Our thought’s
Now
Turning
Over
Repeatedly
Twisting them
10. Align
Angles
Lined
In a
Goal
Naturally
Contest: 10 Word Challenge 1
Sponsored By: Kai Michael Neumann
Date Created: 08/31/2019
N/A Winners were not Chosen
It began with the corrosion of feelings
And the signature was imperative
To seal the agreement on hand
The confused circumstances
It cuddled the thoughts
The subconscious of the soul remembered
And the attach mind and body
To surprise everyone
Would leave contort faces
The align of the inevitable
SPONSORED BY KAI MICAHEL NEUMANN
Memories of Love – Ten Words
Love like a twirling tempest,
whirled us to an uncharted shore
of unbridled, sublime, sensuality,
gifting me with moonlit memories
that would never be forgotten.
How I savored those kisses from your lips…
milk chocolate lips flavored with the
lingering tangy taste of fresh, luscious,
wild, ripened, crimson raspberries…
dipped in cool whipped cream.
Creating sterling silver ripples
on the ocean, we waltzed by the glow
of a yellow, ballooned, harvest moon.
Like a singular, silent shadow, we fused
as one igniting entity…silhouettes
painted-in by the black of night.
Youth and dreams may fade away
like scenery from an old water-color painting;
but I’ll always recall, like it was yesterday,
the ecstasy of love shared,
when we floated away on a carpet of
tinsel-lined clouds, cloaked in the grace
of blue-gray, early misty morning.
04-13-2018
Contest: 10 Words
Sponsor: Joseph May
Placement: 2nd
10 words used: love, tempest, shore, forgotten, crimson, harvest, shadow,
yesterday, grace, misty
She stares into the misty morning shadow;
a crimson sky just breaking the distant shore.
Once an endless tempest of doubt she'd grow;
His grace no longer forgotten; her faith He'd restore.
Each yesterday devoid of any compassion.
Her dreams are filled with tenderness and affection
but she knew not love of any depth or fashion.
The harvest of her spirit reaped only abjection
Now she smiles as the coming sun greets the shore
The pain of yesterday but a fading reflection
In her heart she will hold His grace forevermore
No longer in shadow but wrapped in His protection
Her dreams are filled with tenderness and affection
His grace no longer forgotten; her faith He'd restore
No longer in shadow but wrapped in His protection
Now she smiles as the coming Son greets the shore
04/07/2018
Given words:
Crimson, forgotten, grace, harvest
misty, shadow, shore, tempest, yesterday
Deja Vu; I believe that's what knowing minds call this anomaly.
Another Baroque tinged ballroom boasting bona fide blue-bloods.
Poorly feigned elan for the singing dilettante causing the cacophony.
The ennui in the room due, I'm sure, to the
artistic Carte Blanche given the chirping dud.
It's time someone demonstrate "avant-garde;" give them an actual reason for the sneers.
So on my way out I'll loose this brassiere and with a toss add some "bulbs" to the chandelier!
01/24/2018
(It's 10 lines on my tablet :D)
Assigned words:
Anomaly, Avant-garde, Baroque, Bona fide, Cacophony, Carte Blanche, Deja Vu, Dilettante, Elan, Ennui
Anomaly don't enter contests like this
the style is a bit avant-garde,
I'm a bit of an oldie, preferring baroque
and finding this bona fide hard.
The cacophony of words dancing round in my head,
carte blanche to use this ten word list,
this is my third attempt, seems a bit deja-vu
but my dilettante side can't resist.
Not sure if I can do this write with elan
but hey-ho, ennui go.
For contest 'Ten words, ten lines2', sponsor Silent One
January 23rd 2018
Ten words ten lines 2-Big Surf Competition
After a long ennui of big wave competitions
surfers take to Oahu's North Shore "to go for baroque."
For these bonafide big wave riders hanging ten
is party time, cake frosted with elan and deju vu.
Waves peaking it's face into the eyes of the brave,
with carte blanche of fifty footers, part of the sugar.
All eye candy are on the Hawaiians, lipping alley-opps on the curls,
showcasing avante-garde to the diletttante's and spectators.
As waves keep pounding the shore to the cacophony of applause,
to tats, tongs and tans, big wave riders take to this anomaly waving.
Anomaly
Avant-garde
Baroque
Bona fide
Cacophony
Carte blanche
Deja vu
Dilettante
Elan
Ennui
connie pachecho
1/20/18
Grandmother Always Encouraged
As I stood in front of the baroque painting
"Old Woman and a Boy with Candles", by Sir Peter Paul Rubens
instantly trigger a warped déjà vu.
An ebullient cacophony of absent voices I used to have with my grandmother.
She would give me carte blanche around her home.
It was an embarrassing anomaly I couldn't explain to my aunts.
By their standards I was a bona fide dilettante and ennui .
Grandmother always encouraged me in the creative avant-garde of arts
by using my imagination and a strong sense of élan
fantasy throughout my muse that I love.
1/18/2018
Poetry Contest: 'Ten words ten lines 2' Contest
Sponsored By: Silent One
Among artists, she is something of an anomaly—
Traditional and avant-garde, austere and baroque,
Yet a bona fide artist nonetheless.
Amid the cacophony of modernism,
Where iconoclasm gives Carte-blanche
To jettison all rules and form and coherence—
A kind of fauvist deja-vu in distorted echoes—
She, neither dilettante nor polemicist,
Has genuine elan, and force, and passion--
In contrast to pandemic, jaded ennui.
Ten Words
T’was a bone fide anomaly
an avant-garde cacophony
carte blanche imbued with déjà vu
soft ennui of élan
following an endless toque
the dilettante went flat
baroque
John G. Lawless
©1/15/2018
ten words
Anomaly
Avant-garde
Baroque
Bona fide
Cacophony
Carte blanche
Deja vu
Dilettante
Elan
Ennui
TEN WORDS, TEN LINES 2
She possessed a baroque sense of the love of music
Her avant-garde anomaly led to a cacophony of laughter
Her misconceived dilettante for this great art
Was put forth with great aplomb
Truly an elan display producing an ennui of de ja vu
Predicated on her previous display of the art
Though she thought it a bona fide display of great talent
And that she deserved carte blanche freedom in displaying it
She was soon laughed off the stage as a complete buffoon
For the degradation of the wonderful art of music
14 January 2018
For the contest sponsored by Silent One
DEFINING LIFE
~~~~~~~~~
Anomaly... abnormalities that can and... do confound us all...
Avant-garde... new words... alive with meaning prance across the page...
Baroque... words... can they but allude to that amazing style... if at all...
Bona fide... from my pen the truth oft flows... to calm world rage...
Cacophony... words can explode the hidden silence... exposing all...
Carte blanche... there is one who thinks he has that right... he is no sage...
Deja vu... if only... back to a life where happiness was a joy... a ball for all...
Dilettante... rulers who think they know how to... their eyes a glaze...
Elan... a writers... poets trait... a determination to write... it is in them all...
Ennui... who would choose a life to laze... yet seems ennui is now a new phase...
Entered in Ten words ten lines 2 - Poetry Contest sponsored by Silent One
It is September and I fly over the twilight with my
Brothers and sisters, luscious ripples of a moment,
Pellucid waters underneath.
We are mockingbirds escaping this menagerie
Of thoughts, pouring in, to infuse our lifeline, our
Bloodline, drinking the nectar of the Frangipani,
As it turns our feathers to acrylic and
We live, once again, in nothing but vermilion sunsets and
Rivers thick with paint.
Ancestral in a moment, we remain.
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