Well Formed Poems | Examples

Like a first kiss is first poem

It scarce starts as a well-formed line,
But as fuzzy thoughts if genuine,
All along you feel tense
As if under sentence,
A strange itch not of skin
In time gets somewhat mean
Whilst fuzzy thoughts begin to get some shine,
Words vie to form, play bin,
Show some rare discipline,
Slowly ever so slowly,
And somewhat painfully,
Though twisted, words make a fair twine.
Most poems born are much like this
From chaos, mental catharsis,
And feel like life’s first kiss. 
_________________________ 
Happenings | 26.07.2025 | poem, kiss

Arla-da-trouble

Distrust is rife in consumers now..As arla 'steers' bovaer
Into innocent cows.) They can't say no to this moove we
Know.' So we must raise a stink ' lets all 'give it a real go'
I for one like to see strong kids.' Make strong adults and
Be real fit. I find it good to see well formed women and
Girls not that i'm letcherous.' I hasten to tell, its just good to
Know young men as I once was, can have a chance to enjoy the charms that such women do have.' So to those
Sad caricatures in black science.' I for one say, get your minds onto real improvements, for come what may.' We
Will not be killed by such poision of evil device, let us shout
From the roof tops and the streets, full of life' you can stick
Your bugs and any maggots you breed, down your own throats daah-lings and do have a big feed.' Send some to elton and rod; and mc'cartney oh and let them know.' By the
Way a new age is dawning, as all the people are waking
And as such they will not enter your play.!

Jungle Room

you’re my quintessential 
midnight, catching traces 
of you across the duvet 
in the jungle room 

cross-bred with speckled 
remnants of your mothers’ 
perfume - or is it a candle? 

you’re my ushering  
silhouette. I hunt the shape 
of you in all my spaces - absolute 
or so poetically divulged, 
the imaginary portion 
slips away. I saw you 

become my favorite Sunday 
afternoon, blasting Moderat 
while you traced well-formed 
fingertips across my vision,
and I can feel no other

The Fatal Attraction

Oh the fatal moment of us
That enticing eyes and broad thighs
The soft voluptuous round lips
The soft garden in the front - 38 
The stylish back well formed

You are the epitome of gorgeousness
You are the queen of kamasutra
I am lost in your curvy body
Your neck is so smooth
Your hands are like a baby cute

My passion knows no limit now
Sleeplessness occurs often
Lost in your body, I succumb to thee everyday
I conquer and I cherish thee
You bring out my animal instinct 
My heart's hearbeat heat horny harmonium 
I want to have you in my arms now

Rose Meadow

A fragranced optical illusion,
flourishes the unique field of my realm
Where no other being has touched,
the soft vibrant velvet that adorns each stem

Each month, a new delicate bud softly sprouts
Well-formed in all its desire
Draped from a bridge void of thorns, 
a cascading blend of sweet-scented petals

A Rosarium beauty sublime
The backdrop, a sea of spring green satin,
that flows through my wardrobe collection
Cultured and arranged to perfection


26/04/23

Messages In the Clouds

Observer of the skies, I thrill to see
a puppy cloud stretch out to dragon length,
a shapeless mass become a well-formed heart,
or pastel puffs become an ice cream cone. 
These sights call forth my best old memories
of playing with my dog and summer treats, 
of how my teen heart fluttered when I wore
my first real boyfriend’s class ring on my chain.

A local man I knew saw doves, the Cross*,
and messages from Jesus in the clouds.
A booklet holds his photos of these scenes.
Revisiting my copy gives me pause.
Why would two long-time Christians like us see
such widely-varied scenes among the clouds?

I’ll bet this man prayed fervently to see
some lovely words and images from God,
who chose to send the answers in the sky.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” the Bible says.
I’m praying, and believing, He’ll reveal
some messages from Heaven in the clouds
to bless my soul and move my heart to sing.

*The Cross upon which Christ was crucified


March 8, 2023
Contest: the Each Passing Cloud Poetry Contest          Placed 2nd
Sponsor: JCB Brul

Thoughts Fused In One

Within one thought,  all thoughts ex-spans beyond understanding
well formed to become self-exploratory.

Seldom does each thought become a thought not meaningful
to the main theme that combines thoughts in one main
thought taking control of all.

Still in the meaningfulness of thought does imagination control 
 existence of truth in its purest pursuit.
Limitations submerged in a million directions performing only
once in the bleakness of another dawn.

Within many directions we find many a thought leading to 
miraculous thoughts connected as one enlightened memory
rotating,  glowing, sparkling, renewed, within the thoughts
of the subconscious mind of understanding and locked
in knowledge.

We can not unlock the substance of thoughts that penetrate
the consciousness of determination and truth. 

Our God consciousness controls the journey we take
through many unknown places, we form through our
unconscious thoughts.

We live, performing what pleases us, forgetting we
are not alone in our awakening of freedom and
grace. We are one consciousness in love, light, and reinforced energy.


Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved)

Thalia Be My Muse For Tonight

They call you Thalia, muse, your realm is comedy,
Though I have to admit that much of your humor
Is mostly Greek to me.
But we've been friends for years, since 1963,
And I hope, although, I'm no longer acting,
You haven't forgotten me.
I'm sending you this text now, please read it sans delay,
And R.S.V.P., "Jim, I'm on my way!"

Thala, be my muse for tonight.
You're the muse I choose to use for this write.
The stanzas are well-formed and lined up,
Now I need a solid wind-up,
So, come and amuse me tonight.

I'm begging you, please, one more time
'cause I'm really stuck for a rhyme.
You're a walking jokeapedia,
But I don't have time to read ya,
And I only need one lousy line.

The subject's rather controversial:
Is it okay to marry gay?
They're talking, pros and cons,
Quite a lot on the news,
But, are that many "cons" really gay?

Then, Thalia, when we edit this gem,
There may be one small item to trim.
There's a joke you may well weep at,
But if you laugh, we'll keep it.
Good reviews if you'll muse me tonight.

Sent Back

SENT BACK

To stop crying, the last on my list
I'm vexed, but against whom do I clench my fist?
My Creator
Who made me set for the next sail?
Or my sailor
Who sent me back with a willful wail?

Thought like others, I would be well-formed
And in nine months, even by burnt teeth, be welcomed
Thought someday, I would see that wicked world
The one whose news I hear from returnees 
Who have for weeks, months and years toured
But here I am in cold, without a fleece

O! How I packed wealth and health greedily!
As I watched my transport approach speedily
I had no plans to be a liability
When asked how long I would stay
I answered "years, possibly, eighty or ninety"
In oblivion of my exit before a day

Mother? Murderer? Whatever!
I wish you killed just me
Father, now farther
You wasted my dreams and destiny
Nevertheless, I'll wait patiently
Till you walk in, however quietly
We have scores to settle

From me,
Sent-Back.

The Eye of the Storm

Darkened spiral of impending doom
Hovering over the tortured ocean
Thrashing in a state of gloom
But there's some calm within the motion
Nestled deep within its womb

A well formed eye, where life is still
Easing chaos, bringing peace
Shielding those that had their fill
But just as soon as wind gusts cease
The storm returns: intent to kill

Palm trees snap, tornadoes spawn
Entire neighborhoods destroyed 
Everything familiar: gone
Replaced by nothing, just a void
Until we face the rising dawn

The morning after: quiet yet
A gentle breeze, just like the eye
Except there is no looming threat
A flooded world beneath the sky
That will rebuild, but not forget


September 8, 2021
Quintain (Sicilian) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet

Statuesque

She stands there, an exhibit, such presence, such strength

Reflected on the shining pave, an image of a woman of poise

Features sharp defined, brow exquisite, eyes intelligent

A nose well formed and tipped, to mouth, parted, smiling

Lips curved, carved, yet soft, head up, neck straight

Faint lines of age, maturity, some light in contrast to aged skin

She has aged yes, a gift of nature it seems to enhance the beauty

As if this was intended to show the onlookers, a statement

Shoulders back, to arms that rest, one across sculpted breasts, one at her side

She stands relaxed in impressive pose

People pass by, most look, perhaps drawn by her stance

I wait a while, to admire, to enjoy the moment
Then walk closer, soaking in detail as she turns to me

I smile and hands lifting take hers in mine 

And kiss her as we walk across the square


2021

Wish I Had a Love Like Those Two

Soulmate oak trees with curly branches
grew next to each other, in the Kentucky meadow.
Communicating through squirrel squeaks
Bird beeps, and the whistle of the wind
through their well-formed branches.
They uplifted each other
enjoying their golden moments
as well as their unique love story.

The optimistic meadow rejoiced with them
in the fall spinning around them in ambers and oranges
announcing the forthcoming coolness of winter
when Jack Frost would surround them in sparkly, shiny diamond whites.

A romantical, yearning, young cattail revered the soulmate oaks
I wish I had a love like those two, she said with a long drawn out sigh.
The equally romantic cattail to her left gave her a gentle kiss.
You do now, he assured her, you do now.

Her Flaky Crust Her Tart Like Ways

Lemon meringue pie makes me salivate from here to Alaska
I love her color, her texture, her sweet, her sugar, her sour.
Her flaky crust, her tart lemon, her well -formed meringue
My mouth is dripping saliva as loudly as a dog’s when I think of her.
Ever so tasty!

Earthly Math

Easy math to drink the blood, need
To be mosquito; leech in the mind
Of tongue can live in the disguise

Disguise in wearing neat and clean
Clothes good for all but the time
Speaks to a voice of shameless eyes

Eyes are counting the equation tiles
Of life where a sharp knife is cutting
The long thread of ages by cheating

Cheating is not real norms of manners
But to solve the higher math of life
Human takes shelter here as a pious

Pious a display center of well-formed business
Earthly life where all love to enjoy all in cash

22.08.2020 Chattogram

This Isn'T You

this isn't you
 not your style
 guttural rasps
 that barely scratch the surface;
this isn't you
 not your style at all
 too many remnants of memory
 when time held you in place;
I see your dark shadows
 walking close behind you
 small, minuscule and demure
 but still walking are the ghosts of you;
this isn't you
 not the pseudo images, well-formed
 from the very heartbeat
 of which you were born.

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