klausie little exposed again.' yet but shrinking
Interest i have to pen.' Maybe some trans-formers
Would like to play? Yet I think? poor old Klausie
Will soon, be in the closet to stay.'
I had to trade another jot,
I had to sell a tittle.
I had to cuz they told me that
I had to give a little.
I had to sit and wonder at
the setting of the sun,
what giving just a little costs
when all is said and done.
I walked deep into the wilderness
In hopes to get my find
I was looking for some solitude
And a little peace of mind
Then I came across a silhouette
Of an owl in the moon
Right then and there I knew that I
Would find my peace real soon
I took out my harmonica
And I played it through the night
I played some chords that echoed loud
Until they sounded right
Then I danced around in circles
To a hymn called "Tittle a Toot"
And I played that hymn all night long
Till I heard that owl hoot
The night was getting late
And I was felling bold
Mist had made its way around
And I was getting cold
So, I walked around the wilderness
To try to warm my bones
Then I built myself a firepit
And warmed my hands around the stones
5:00am had crept up fast
I was still having fun
The chilly morn had heated up
When I saw the rising sun
Then I looked into that silhouette
And that owl in disguise
Then I started playing my harmonica again
When I saw it blink its eyes
Then I danced around in circles
To that hymn called "Tittle a Toot"
And I played it loud all morning long
Till I heard that owl hoot
Life is a flowing stream heading to a dumb past—a tittle on timeline—too brief for a whim, too fluid to fondle. Yet with an uncanny haste I flinch at horrors or wince at hurts. Can’t gel fleeting dreams that soon layer in memory’s folds, or litter like dry bones in the valley.
Each moment, I dream afresh, preening the feathers mirrored in a mirage. All’s dream, dream, a passing dream of a morrow cuddle a bouquet of roses—the fruit sifted from pondering the essence of life. I’ve seen many sun’s; day and night ever speaking.
I look for today, but find myself in limbo, in a swirl, hyped up by hope, yet clutching the wind and a slimy crag. Thus I follow the hollow tales about morrow with cautious hope, squinting as time taunts and recedes to a vanishing point. Life slips away mindlessly in bits till my sun sets in grey or gold.
Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
January 5, 2019
Meena can drive Corona,
whispered Tina to Nina.
Is she a doctor?
How could she master?
Ney dear, it is Corolla.
little minded people with so little in their lives
promulgating rubbish with their cretinous wives
ooo-ing over news of celebs leaving dives
ahhing over gossip from journos with knives
Tittle Tite
Gossamer wings a whispering,
Useful in her flight,
Power of light from her palms do spring,
Beware of Tittle Tite.
Shepherd of the great butterfly,
Svelte is her gossamer wing,
Directing Bumble Bee’s to try,
pollination in tune, is her thing.
Friend to all the forest creatures,
Lights her way in darkest night,
Guidance one of her features,
Some do swear by Tittle Tite.
Don Johnson 9-jul-11
For Leighann Anderson
Contest Name Land of Fairies
This might be my last year.
This might be my last month.
This might be my last day.
This might be my last hour.
This might be my last moment with you.
This might be my last publishment.
This might be my last poem.
This might be my last writing.
This might be my last title.
This might be my last stanza.
This might be my last sentence.
This might be my last word.
This might be my last sound.
This might be my last breath.
This might be my last time telling you that I love you...
My wings are in immaculate form
It would assist in keeping me informed
I’d fly from pillar to post
In salons I'll be engrossed
Truth be told, I’ll never be misinformed
I had to trade another jot
I had to sell a tittle
I had to cuz they told me that
I had to give a little
I had to sit and wonder at
The setting of the sun
What giving just a little costs
When all is said and done
...Jeff Bresee
When i woke up this moring you were the first thing on my mind
And i already know when i close my eyes tonight its your face i will see
Although my thoughts of you are constant and quite painfull
Im never surprised when they appear
Can i trust you? Oh i wish i could trust you
Sometimes when i look at you i see the innocense of a child lead astray
I see a truly beautiful soul looking to join with another
And then there are times when i see hatred in you kind eyes
I see someone who knows fully what you are doing
And without remorse continues to do so
So why the constant thought, why the constant pain
Why cant i tell you to leave me be?
My life has been a search and but until now i have had no leads
Ive been searching for the one who's heart beats n'sync with mine
That beat, that calm, peaceful beat i thought i found in you
I thought i saw it in your eyes
I dont know if i was wrong but i dont know if i was right
But i know that somehow i feel tied to you presence
And without knowlege or permission
My soul will dream of your tonight
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.