we deludedly imagine we choose ~
know such thoughts to be but our ego’s ruse
we fell from the sky, as form crystallised ~
that love within the heart be realised
pause mind awhile
that thought guile rests
bliss styles our heart
I'd rather smile than cry in front of you
I'd rather cry than wait for you
I'd rather read than sing for you
I'd rather write than talk to you
I'd rather dream than actually face you
I'd rather sleep than dream about you
I'd rather be everything without you than watch the red string evaporate with you.
I might write letters to you or mean words to rattle the cage of a soul in despair and be THROUGH
I might play an unknown tone like a deal with the devil, like a tear on a keynote, on a piano.
I will play for you.
Once or twice I might end up dreaming a faceless you-
The soft winter, cold water, warm sunshine and leaning against you under the blanket i quietly crawled into-
I will see you
But I 'd always be everything without you than believe in another lifetime with you.
both the pleasant and unpleasant
sensations arise and subside
our awareness is unchanging
as the light of Self deep inside
liken space to be a screen
on which polarities dance
we know we are that not this
when we make erect our stance
feel the here now this
with fragmented mind rested ~
we are that stillness
etiquette as habits dictate
employs will power for restraint
laudable but may alter fate
if our feint becomes our soul’s taint
music of the spheres in heart shaped
joy replete always feels complete
which when is in our mind landscaped
no longer follows God’s bliss beat
in the lucid dream by our heart conjured,
if every character with love concurred,
what then would remain is a sublime flame,
which our lower mind simply cannot name
Your honor, I confess: if even
I were a native English speaker,
A tenured Cambridge-born professor,
And knew the language like the back of
My own, I’d never write like that.
Your honor, I confess: if even
I were the most exalted thinker,
The most unorthodox, uncanny,
Convention-redefining dreamer,
I wouldn’t dare to think like that.
Your honor, I confess: if even
I were a Romeo, a Tristan,
An ageless perfect Mr. Darcy,
A poet of eternal passion,
I couldn’t hope to love like that.
space-time is a cage where battles we wage ~
we transcend when we cease to take umbrage
ran dumb thought
about bought
lesee i let AI o u
tune my poems
and it's so true
entomb my tomes
now for guilt
wrapping quilt
or satisfaction or both
placate faction doth
i don't write know more
blank white boar
less than not
in ending this
game of rot
composting fbook
if you care to look
just don't kiss
any dyslexic
mix or be sic
sans which rye
on rub in put in pi
know where going
less point more thumb
all ready now showing
orange ain't knew dumb
can't get past
third weak
sans rubbing kash
praytell pay less
peter's pall
merrikka stall
must get this sin
don't kill venezuelan
since rus needs busy be
now that you crane
has no see
but blown apart brain
an wouldn't want sia
defend with weapon i ran
brics expect expand
wooden wont bee ya
all drunk
aslib progressive punk
hanging hard
on mccarthy card
ptsd owns petard
widow mite well discard
hope sans nope
smoke in dumpster
grand master
some kind disaster
bad star scopes afar
goin' comin' bummin'
be a bummer
drive beatle hummer
lessee AI o u
pay rent come spent
less point more hint
as prejudice judges right versus wrong ~
toxins generated we take along
ego says fastest fingers first ~
concepts dissolve in love’s bliss burst
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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.