I said I liked your girlfriend
She was rude, mean and hateful
I pretended I liked her outfit
it was garish, gaudy and gruesome
I pretended I liked your pumpkin pie
You are the worst baker in the world
I could barely choke it down
I wanted to spit it into the garbage
I was overly complimentary
It was all a lie, it was a huge fabrication
There was nothing I liked
I even pretended to like you
You are my boss
I have to pretend
Because you are a blow-hard bigot
You are filled with ugliness, you are a brute and a bully
I will never tell you the truth
Because I need this job
But the next time you have a party
I will think up a better lie to try and get out of coming
It has been too hot to thrive
it has been too hot to drive
too hot to feel cool
weather fit for a pool
been frying eggs on the walk
ground dry as old chalk
but today something is new
cooler weather long overdue
I think up six excuses more
to not go shopping in a store
Prime has completely spoiled me
I shop in front of my TV
too cold to go outside today
I stay inside, where I like to play
The Who’s were all gathered one Thanksgiving day.
Their little brains pondered what games they might play.
They’d already feasted so royally that
they couldn’t stand up from the place where they sat.
They’d hobgoblin-gobbled their fish with no break
when they pigged out on pork and a juicy beast steak.
On Yorkshire pudding so puffy and yummy
they soaked up their gravy and filled up their tummy.
They tore into trifle. Someone blew a raspberry!
Toffee pudding so sticky made each Who so merry.
They guzzled mulled wine - those Who over-eaters.
Oh how they guzzled those big wine-filled liters.
They’d wanted to think up fun games, but each Who,
by the time they stopped feasting, could not a thing do!
Their tooting and pooting turned into their game,
and I’m thankful no Who in that room lit a flame!
No Kings
How silly are the slings
How silly are the human bings
Who think up such silly things
King-free since 1776
I’ve never been a writer, but when I have the time.
I try to think up some ideas to write a random rhyme.
Sometimes it works and I think up something new.
Other times I just scratch my head, as I haven’t got a clue.
Now I’m staring at a blank screen, unable to think.
And my brains just like a pen, that's run out of ink.
Analogy's a great theme, I’ve not done that before
Already hit a brick wall, as I can't think of anymore.
Should I write about a dream, romance, or secret fears?
Looking for inspiration, but still with no ideas.
I try using my imagination, so I write down a few lines.
Then look for other words, to try and make them rhyme.
My plan was to create a poem, with poise and eloquence.
But everything I write down, just simply makes no sense.
So, to spark creativity I recall something from the past.
Ideas come and go, but the moment doesn't last.
I suppose my brain is scrambled and running a bit too slow.
I attempt to write something meaningful, but nothing seems to flow.
I guess writing poetry is not as easy as it looks.
So I admire all those poets, whose work is published in a book.
Jesting without manifesting
Joking without spending or investing
Jovial and fair
Jolly times in the air
Living as I dare
Showing that I care
Words delight me, incite me,
Inspire and light me
Jesting, joking, jovial, and jolly
hickery dickery, dolly and holly
Jumping, twirling and swirling in my brain
If this were a song, I’d think up a refrain
The sheer amount of overflowing, fuming, fumbling feelings
Might explain or clarify the lack of my coherence
Hastily I’m jotting down the first thing I think up
Stretched out silence floods my ears, about to make the jump
I reminisce the way your hand held my hand like a trophy
Like rainfall your expression fell, you knew you couldn’t know me
I try to pry away the guilt, amends are their own trial
Biting the hand that feeds you is its own form of survival
The sky and sea connect and melt in static, stagnant beauty
It turns into a supercut, my pain is now a movie
I get to sit here and observe, as waves kiss rocks below me
They’ll hug my body nice and close, the water salty, foamy
A poem back to front
It's never done
Because
Once you start
You never stop the fun
And stopping just to see
What you might do
You never know
What an author might tell you
So listen closely to
That which I say
Please think about the words
I speak each day
A poem back to front
It was the dresser few could have visualized
I spotted it in the flea market as fantasized
Patterns most would have been able to think up or paint
Created by an artesian whose designs are never faint
This dresser had a signature, not any kind of surprise
So marvelously orchestrated it nearly hurt my eyes
It was a gorgeous dresser, which would look great by my bed.
I only paint one of a kind things, the artist apologetically said.
It fills my soul with such delight
to think up verses that inspire.
Words overflow, and I can’t stop,
for writing is my heart’s desire.
For those who thirst for poetry,
I hope to satisfy their need -
to warm their hearts and give them hope.
May cherished be my poems that other people read.
And for my peers in poets’ realm,
let’s reach all those like you and me
whose souls are hungry to receive
the beauty of sweet poetry.
Written November 27, 2022
Submitted Dec. 30, 2022
for the ' BRIAN STRAND no 1165' Poetry Contes
I've been trying to write a poem
Just to exercise my mind.
But it seems to take forever
Just to think up a couple of lines.
I find it so irritating
That I've wasted some much time
But in the end its been well worth it
Especially when the words all rhyme.
A Brian Strand Rime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
If I were an animal
I'd elect to be man
Then I could think up
all sorts of great plans
To advance the cause
of my entire tribe
To inspire and delight
-- I'd never proscribe
I'd need to compete
that much I know
But I won't complain ~
that's how my tribe grows
Russia has just shattered our space
So we must find another place
Where we can orbit
Sucking our sorbet
As we think up how to save face
The Rainbow
When I see the rainbow,
I do not think of anything else...
except, my Lord.
"They" can think up their own colors,
as far as I am concerned. I take back,
what is... or has been captured.
I stand in the way of woke,
and refuse to choke.
No one gave permission,
no one gave a "right".
"They" can make up a new one,
or find another "group"...
that does not care.
"They" only took it,
because it had glory,
and shone brightly.
Yet, nothing stolen shines for long.
"Their" ribbon is not the same,
it is just another game...
Jesus is the King,
and the sky is all His...
The very gift...
of the very true rainbow
is without, and beyond
the ability ...
of small men,
to even measure.
It is boundless.
Ann Foster
BooksbyAFoster Have a blessed day.
I really like school
In Chicago, it's cool
Boot the computer
Log into Zoom
Then do whatever
I want in my room
No shoes on my feet
as I think up a tweet
If I'm oversexed
I fire off racy texts
Yes, Ma'am, homework's done
It really was fun ~
Every answer's online
It's easy to shine
Time for lunch break
A couple hours I'll take
To hijack two cars
And then hit the bars
I really like school
In Chicago it's cool
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.