If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry,
is astrology a tragedy or a comedy?
Are there clusters of uppercase in outer space,
the remnants of metaphors that broke up like meteors?
My universe is full of orphaned verse,
and perverse alien names all have hyphens.
Quatrains swirl across the ecliptic plane,
and sonnets streak by like comets.
Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone.
Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil?
It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you.
Black holes are swallowing Haiku too.
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Songs for this:
Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac
Theme for a Nude Beach by The B-52's
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I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know.
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*No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name
She is uppercase, Her within the within
out shines the sun, out paces the moon.
Thoughts of a ham sandwich come to a squealing halt
as I recall my low sodium diet -
She (too often to count) plays trivia with existence,
meanwhile, I flutter like a cage in a canary.
Of course, She is not a she and I am not a lower he.
A non-physical womb both transmits and incubates.
Pronouns do not work in Spirit.
Owls perch on the edge of light where the watched
also watches. She corrals wild minds, thoughts bleat
as they are left to stray
creating space for the lone herder -
the one who brings ‘shepherd’s pie’
for all the hungry ghosts.
In a sandbox, many grains plays with others
and that’s okay
for one more transcendental day.
finding a way in this place
everyday someone pleads a case
trapped, yet free in an infinite space
no longer will I hesitate
eye opened, holding tight to grace
my mind on a high speed chase
reality at times I find difficult to embrace
negative emotions, constantly erased
genes of perseverance synthesize my polymerase
my name embedded in the land in all uppercase
now enlightened, money I no longer chase
dreams I trace
collectively organizing thoughts like a database
my history, my past, will never erase
my future, my weight
achieving, giving, thriving in this interplanetary space
finding my way in this place
An antecedent me, a subsequent
and present me, all those me who went
through stones, plants, amoebas, arthropods,
reptilians, arachnids, mammals, men
and women, a reptilian again
as punishment for hubris, even gods -
the small "g" gods. As for the uppercase,
I hope, it won't deny me in its grace:
tu te souviens, mon Dieu, tu m'as promis
qu'un jour...* Long story short: since time begun,
one turns nonstop into the other one
but what they all have shared is a me.
Who's that mysterious me? Have a suggestion?
I guess this verse will help reply to question.
* (fr.) do you remember, God, you promised me that once...
You And Yours, Lets Get Personal Any Theme Thereupon, Any Form, In My Final
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Certain Summers remain uppercase,
all blue, heat and breakneck. We daughters of the season,
off-key in synchronicity, played out
the inborn cool of our age..
You and I came up through a flowery, fulsome time
that thought highly of itself, all laissez-faire but
as acquisitive as any generation.
I meant to never go away. 'Course, there I went,
since that's the sway life has on youth.
You decamped with the first man of your
dreams. I doubted us, for a time, and fear is so often
posture, worthy or not of passing on.
Now we watch other sisters, for them summer blazes
a cheap high. They're all exclamation points, blistering style,
indifferent to rebel decades -
in the wake of us -
I close my eyes when I think I, feel you I,
think I smell you, I think I see you.
The Goddess Of poetry, so beautifully insane I remember,
the poems, in HIGH CASED letters of ANGELS AND GOD!
they told us he
she dead, but wit' You? I' no' so sure,
There' no lie in you' fire
I remember the letters, you sent,
of famous Lovers and Kings, and
of course I wrote back, I no' Jealous
we never' met.
But under cupids heavy wing
do I say love you, like a man
loves a woman he never smells, never tastes, touch
my words don't cut like daggers on the Strings of reality,
they don't speak of chaos in the war that lovers bring,
only the void that presides,
an acceleration of anxiety and a subjective understanding Of
life
Is my words while you disambiguate
like a drug infused hurt of thousand Illiterate Words like
Life, a four letter word that never saw it's heard in letter'
from you friend, because you was dead.
The poet that wrote uppercase poems of ANGELS AND GOD
But it's for the best
or I' love you more when I sit in my chair
rolling' spliff,
and I hear you' Piss threw the other door
Poetic history is created daily and
Historic poets paved that winding road.
Some with natural writing skills others,
Couldn’t function sober like Edgar Allan Poe.
Determined to write out their hearts,
Defines that poetry has no cost.
Words in rhyme in a calibrated phrase,
Was greatly shown by Robert Frost.
When I look for a poetess that catches my eye,
It’s not hard in picking one.
The beautiful literature created to educate,
Was written by Emily Dickinson.
A compelling use of the abandonment,
Of the uppercase letters can be stunning.
And is seen throughout the work,
Of the poet mr. e. e. cummings.
One of the best, combined allegory,
And added a spice of fiction.
His verses still reverberate,
He is the poet Walt Whitman.
The freedom of poetry comes free,
But some poets paid some dues.
The literature created from pain,
Came from Langston Hughes.
Libraries are full of poets whose words,
And phrases of our language echo.
American classics wouldn’t be complete,
Without Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
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.