The applause
I had a drink before going to a poetry reading
since I was nervous
drank a few whiskeys and spoke dramatically about the plight of the Palestinians
I needed help to get down from the stage since my glasses were at the hotel.
The next day, we went to a meeting where the top of
The educated class go, I thought they were idiots
they had erudition but no
learning, So I got up and spoke for fifteen minutes.
The silence was colossal
think of a needle falling from the galaxy
and landing at the Himalayas, I had sinned
said the global warming was a natural disaster and had nothing to do
with global warming.
The meeting was unreported in the local paper
but what do
I do not speak this Roman soldier’s language.
They, blinded by ambition,
armed with deadly ammunition
like agents on a suicide mission,
although faced with a lack of vision,
they hunger for a revolution.
When slapped with charges of treason
which unreported become misprision
they make the right decision
to surrender of their own volition
lest they attract a sentence of life in prison,
Songs from a life, sounds like the blues,
microwave fries, pot noodle, stews,
dead on two legs, only half-nine,
saying yes, to the overtime,
this months rent and the kids' new shoes.
Paying forward, paying your dues,
when there isn't much left to lose,
longing for friends, weekends and wine,
songs from a life.
Cut price make up covers the bruise,
somewhere hard cash, won't look for clues,
warning the kids to keep off-line,
praying tomorrow, turns out fine,
unreported on last nights news,
songs from a life.
Staying Positive And Obedient
Miracle Man
March 9th 2024
In negative surroundings,
remaining positive is hard.
But I search for good,
and stay a stubborn die-hard.
I’ve never been good at keeping,
my true feelings hidden.
Sometimes things will happen,
that by me were unbidden.
Even news goes unreported,
unless it has a bad slant.
When God gives us a job,
many quickly say “I Can’t”.
Though we feel unprepared,
we should give it our best.
While God knows our heart’s,
our obedience He’ll test.
If I wasn't there,
the rain swollen clouds
would have still dumped
their dark weight over the bay
and through a gaping tear,
let down a curtain of sunlight
to start the day.
And if I wasn't there,
the old, arthritic labrador
would have still waddled
along the street
with its bent but steady gait,
undistracted, self absorbed
and fixed in its own stare
that allowed no deviation
from years of devoted plod.
The morning had no need
for me, what happened
would have happened anyway.
There's an annoying sadness
in knowing the earth
doesn't seem to care
if things pass unnoticed.
Sunsets and waterfalls
carry no favor.
To it, the achingly beautiful
and the catastrophic can
happily go unreported.
And yet I still ask -
what's the point -
and entertain the notion
that the universe has this
innate and unfathomable need
for a witness
to take in Creations
unfolding riddle
and make it fit together.
I could be wrong,
but for each of us,
the privilege of being here
on this gifted earth,
to understand, care for
and tell its story in song
fulfills a purpose,
if only to this end -
or something more.
Conundrum solvers, puzzle be
Here within the text you see,
Eye two secret missives penned
Crypticwise – responses send
Keek the type, inside lines look,
Thus hidden I’ve words. I took
Wild liberties wit’ my count,
On th’ meter…errors mine will mount.
Let be thrown ‘fore swine words not,
Everyone might try – code’s sought
Through the twist’d poem writ down.
Try first it’s “pithy” mood (nice noun).
Endure should you th’entire note –
Revisiting the “lines” I wrote
So find you might directives mine
Before puzzle hour’s finish line.
Enough conundrum, let us rest.
Forsooth we might pursue this quest
Over “mounds” or over hills. ‘Tis best
Retired, this my rhymed write.
Even though the time is quite
Perfect for to bid good nite,
Unreported – thing one more
Not mentioned it heretofore:
Could you missing thing look for
Through my old window I see
The young birds, fluttering and flying free
Wings stretching out so far and wide
As they soar through the open sky.
Their eyes, as beautiful as twilight
Sparkling with a glint of delight
I watch them play and tumble with glee
And envy their freedom so wild and free.
My heart longs to join them in the air
To feel the wind rush through my hair
To fly without a care in the world
And be one with the birds, so pure and unfurled.
My heart has now a tongue of its own
A language that only the birds have known
For they know no boundaries or borders
And their love is felt in every flutter.
No longer bound by earthly ties
I soar with them into the blue
And in their graceful, effortless guise
I find a beauty, pure and true.
Through my old window, I am transported
Into a new world of freedom, where love is unreported
I am one with the birds, and they are one with me
And together we fly, forever wild and free.
The sun no longer burns me
The clouds hugged away the moon last night
The stars sang from behind the curtain
Have you stopped hating me?
The cuckoo returns to the garden
as flowers sway in the breeze
and the nightingale dances on my patio wall.
Have you stopped hating me?
The storms go unreported.
The torrents of rain disappear.
And in the still night, the wolf howls are not heard.
Have you stopped hating me?
There's no more horror in the waves of the sea
The earth no longer shakes
Even the graveyard dogs are silent
Have you stopped hating me?
The mine drowned the holler,
many reallocated
to trailer parks along the Interstate.
The school dwindled,
ran out of children
became a garage for dead trucks,
then a beer barn, then a Meth lab,
bubbling feuds resurfaced -
shotguns aimed at open secrets.
Oxycontin mules crisscrossed cricks.
After the sheriff left with a bag of money
the missing went unreported.
The ‘Craft’
(a legend as ancient as flint arrowheads),
emerged from clapboard covens
ginseng and moonshine were sacrificed
for white powder.
Glocks flourished among the Hummel’s.
Traditions persisted
like red paint on wooden signs.
An outbreak of opaque cottage industries,
led to skins inked with blood oaths.
Old women retreated into the mountains
with their recipes.
Spirals of distant smoke
rose from iron cooking pots,
no one spoke of the children.
Discretion
David J Walker
Its wing crooked from some
Unreported collision
The wild Canada goose would
Never fly again
Now left behind
Left to beg at the end
Of driveways when not hiding
Between lawns and lakes
Holding himself in humbled pride
Begging as homeless veterans beg
At an edge of town traffic light
Out of sight of traffic cops
With guns and cuffs and discretion
Once his hunter now his guardian with
Obligations they both understand
There will be corn
At the end of the driveway
every morn
No questions asked
Bluefin Tuna are listed as, endangered
because of illegal fishing, of global fish stocks
as eighty five percent, is unreported and unregulated
Overfishing of our oceans, has to be quickly eliminated
Bluefin are the largest tuna, and can live up to 40 years
and they migrate across oceans, and can dive 40 thousand feet
They are made for speed, and built like torpedoes
and have retractable fins, but they still end up in food tins
They are tremendous predators, that seek schools of fish
like herring, mackerel and even slippery eels
They have the sharpest vision, of any bony fish
but that doesn’t help, as they end up on a human dish
The people from Hades
It is well known that Trump's are a dynasty from hell
he does not care what people ( the serious press)
writes about him as his base do not read.
They watch Fox News and local papers that write how
great he is.
He has helped killing more Americans, more than his
army ever did, this is deaths out of sight and go
unreported, one is tempted to call him a Stalin type
his callousness is similar in disregard of humanity
his history will be harsh.
It is given he will win a second term in office and
the house of cards will come crashing down.
When America wakes up to the knowledge they are
living in a fascist state and millions will be beggars
the dystopia is complete; the devil made it possible.
Am on my knees Father
Bearing in mind that you never sleep
Crying for those trapped in a foreign country
Dark days have befallen them
Equality rules broken, screwed humanity
Frequent hunger, little or no pay and slaving labour
Golden days are over for them
Having greener pastures and better opportunities
Is a dream that burnt on their arrival
Just want to go back home, even in poverty
Keeping their fingers crossed, for safe arrival
Looking forward to getting out of captivity, passports in hands
Making every effort because there is no place like home.
*For those suffering in places like Lebanon, Dubai, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain etc. After going for better opportunities/jobs but they end up in the hands of mistreating employers. They sign long contracts and their documents are taken. There are many cases of abuse and neglects, some reported & some unreported.
NB: not all employers are like that & there are those seeking greener pastures that come out satisfied*
Unreported Violence in Vilamoura
The couple was nicely suntanned, but the woman had
a black eye, he was very courteous to her tried to hold
her hand, but she didn´t want to and his face reddened
angrily, so she let him hold her hand. Both were nicely
dressed on their way to a restaurant; no doubt when
meeting friends a droll story would be told how she got
that eye. Polite laughter. Men would believe the story,
women would exchange glances because in the eyes of
the hapless woman they saw the truth. They would find
out- women talk- when they went to the ladies to
powder their noses. The unlucky one would beg them
not to say a word. “ He loves me, but has a bad temper;
and when I nag him he slaps me, it is really my fault for
not understanding him better. He was so sorry for giving
me a black eye last night that he cried, promised not to
hit me anymore.”
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.