Is it really any wonder
the world's the way it is today
when according to the Bible
wherein it does say
not in so many words
but reading between the lines
we're descendants of incestuous bastards
and the shape we're in shows all the signs
not a lot we can do to change history
altho' the future's ours to frame
'Peace, Love and Understanding'
is the name of the game
innately inhabit innoxious inviolate instrumental interchange
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • October 5–11, 2026)
The crowded room muffles to a gentle hum, indecipherable against the pounding of my mind. Watching others swiftly glide across the floor making the dance appear so simple, maintaining a steady rhythm and fancy footwork to impress the crowd. A winning performance will achieve accolades galore.
Standing on the sidelines now
Insidious anxieties rise
Deluging senses
Questioning one's own ability
To remember with accuracy and flare
The right steps for this, the Dance of Life
Though I love intelligence, candor is recompence
Smart is an art, but love comes from above
Kiss over compliment, neither will pay the rent
Nor inflation, adulation, inclination, or shove
Now in combination lie's true adoration
Choosing wisely should be life's aspiration
Eschew impropriety, display some sobriety
And wisely choose the better thereof
They warn about the mess inside,
The clutter in my head,
The sheer accumulated grime
Where thoughts are left unmade.
I stress about some unpaid bills,
Then let the dust repose,
A muddy swamp of open tabs,
And piles of laundry clothes.
I thought about a sandwich crust
I dropped a week ago,
Still lingering in a dark abyss
Where no one dares to go.
A soil of half-remembered names,
And crumbs of useless facts,
Unswept, unscrubbed, unpolished thoughts,
And overdue tax acts.
So if you say my mind is foul,
You’ve hit the nail right squarely—
It hasn't seen a broom or mop,
And frankly, cleans up rarely.
You thought I meant a different dirty?
Get your head out of the gutter!
My brain is just a dusty room
Full of trash and clutter.
Donald John Trump, meet Percy Bysshe Shelley
You might have missed him since he's not there on your telly
He shows up in one of those things you held up in your hand
They're better read right side up than at Lafayette's last stand
Now Percy's man no longer stands 'cept in imagination
But what he stood up strong and tall befitting of his station
Is left in its inscription that you might do well to study
Like the writing on the wall where feet of clay turned muddy
Mistaking feats that magnify for feet that fate can't glorify
Leaves features that ironically will serve naught but to horrify
Historians and poets, even patronizing patriots
Even zealots, fans, and delegates won't help you dignify
I
Am
The
Word
Dream
Before
Gaining
Momentum
weird wacky wild Willy White
worried a wishy-washy wiggly worm named Wilbur.
Willy’s wooly walrus William waited west of Washington
wondering whether Wilbur would wail, “what? Why? When?”
We waited with Wiliam.
noodle
doodle
why
fry
boodle
poodle
shy
guy
handy
andy
best
buy
randy
mandy
rest
rye
gray
play
deep
sigh
slay
bray
creep
dry
caboodle
radoodle
great
try
poetry style free verse
Why it’s called ‘socialism’ I am not quite sure
Once lionized, it's fertilized ~ pure manure
On a more personal note,
seeing the shackles,
self-imposed or by others
always raises the hackles,
yet, with only one oar
in the water,
neither doing their remit,
nor what they oughta,
as a means of avoidance
wherever they go,
catching crabs
whenever they row,
while blindly engaged
in endless negotiations,
with lobbyists, politicos
and their associations,
but, are they remunerated
for mere speech,
as opposed to action,
do they fail to grasp the truth,
or, is reality out of reach?
ugly
buggly
wittle
dittle
my oh me
snuggly
huggly
skittle
mittle
dilly doe dee
muggly
puggly
brittle
pittle
gopher gee
playing with words
and nonwords
super delights me
Pity the poor syllable in the phrase that pops these days
It's stretched and bent until it's rent in oh so many ways
It's hard to see the melody in the score that's tortured so
It's an attack that hails from way back in days of yesteryear
If opera is what led to this, I guess that's why we're here
But Chuck was full of word play in his day and yet instructed
Improvisation shouldn't lead to the point where melody's obstructed
Vocal coaches in the ballpark should leave us thus reminded
Warm-ups are for stretching… lest technique's lost to the wind-up
Mon amour
it’s you
I adore
Moonstruck—
I am over
the moon
for you
Will moonlight
delight
be ours
tonight?
Moon ami
shower me
with beams
of dreams—
rays
that will
keep me
amazed
as I take
a chance
on romance
this taunting
tilted tiptoe
blushingly
balletic brachiate bush
slobber scripted sham
worn waxy
wiesenboden
rioting
repeater rocketry
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 28–October 4, 2026)
Word Play Categories
Definition | What is Word Play in Poetry?
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