Perverse Poem
................................................. ...........The
diversity in imagination, while fully awake, is but a fractional
inverse of the degree of freedom available to the dreamer. Sadly this
adversely impinges on aspects of creativity. Reason is our
reimbursement for the loss. An ideal state, is to hover magically
immersed in semi-dream, directing the show, yet still believing. But
transverse strictures of habit cast a net by day and bind me to
nursery rhyme simplicity in poetry. Of course, far
worse than dullness would be madness. Yet, there exists between
obverse and reverse maybe, a place where wild plots spring
unrehearsed. Dallying here, my goal would be to
traverse strange terrains with brevity, since the
converse of pedantry is pith. But I'm
submersed in wishful thinking. Time to
purse petulant lips then, and spit
subversive wit knit grit- stop!
Curse this rhyme-riddled mind.
Coerce fixed neurons
averse to change.
Disperse with
terse, taut
verse.
poem by Diane Hine
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Related quotes
Free Verse
I admire all the aims of Free Verse,
‘tis explicit in all that I do
in shaping the stress to converse
with a rhyme-scheme restricted to two.
That I stay with this number is true, -
a linguistic abuse, maybe worse,
how it weighs and encumbers the view! -
but French art needs its aid, though perverse.
Else the Muse would be dumb to a curse,
for to accent, the lingo’s deaf too, -
though what can one do? All’s averse
to fantasy rhyme calls on cue!
May Free Verse’s aims bring joy unto
the young sparks who chance meanings coerce -
whose mental gymnastics’ fun value
is the fire to inspire hopes they’d nurse.
They’re young colts who green pastures traverse
with gravity worthy their virtue,
though mad they’re superb, and no hearse
they’d inherit! Free Verse tempts! You too?
poem by Paul Verlaine, translated by Jonathan Robin
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Terse Verse
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
In my soul thou so give
And on its worth my life I live
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Love is a morsel of thine treasure
In one ounce is my immense pleasure
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Sing like a muse
and in poetry fuse
my soul into verse from beauties purse
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Moderns
To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At A Loss For Words
Some time had passed since a verse had come to mind
a mental blockage I have had, nothing seemed to rhyme.
No words of creation the supply had gone
no thoughts, or imagination, nothing, not a one.
The source had stopped for some strange reason,
as though there was a break in the poetry season.
I tried and I tried, but nothing would come together,
not even with a change in the weather.
In the early hours I woke up and had to pick up a pen,
for some strange reason I began writing again.
It is quite odd and I’ll never get to know
why periods of poetry come and go.
But I’m thankful when words and lines come to me
it is as though they are sent telepathically.
It doesn’t matter if the poem is incorrect or good
or if it’s taken as silly, or is misunderstood.
As long as it relays that moment’s thought
an instinctive message that cannot be taught.
To me it doesn’t matter if its only two lines long,
or whether it has many verses, or even sounds wrong.
When thoughts of words or sentences come to mind
I have to write them down no matter the place or time.
If I don’t record the thought on paper right away
they become lost forever in the space of night and day.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Cant Go On
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Ive been feeling sentimental,
In a melancholy way,
Blues siting on my shoulder,
Getting heavier every day...
Staring into space,
One thing on my mind,
Ive been trying to drown
The thought of you
By drinking too much wine...
Then my imagination
Starts running wild,
I snap my fingers
And youre there by my side...
Cant go on without your love,
Theres no song without your love...
Aint no reason, aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
Been getting too lazy,
Letting myself go,
Feeling like a refugee
No one cares for anymore...
Endless lonely days,
I just try to get through,
And theres no escape,
Even when I sleep,
cause all I dream is you...
Then my imagination
Gets the better of me,
cause youre everywhere I go,
In everything I see...
I cant go on without you love,
Theres no song without your love...
There aint no reason, there aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
You make me dance,
You make me sing,
When Im with you
I can do anything...
When Im cold,
You keep me warm.
And give me shelter
From the howling storm...
There aint no reason, there aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
Cant go on without your love,
Theres no song without your love...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epitaphs in Verse - Reflections in the Eyes of a Poet
The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life's begin' in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows' rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
poem by Terry O'Leary
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A Dream
I have a dream, a dream I so long for,
A vision of a place with a new way of thinking
A way forward towards an ideal Utopian Socialist society
Political and social reforms of our outdated state
In this dream everyone is equal
No matter of physical or mental dependencies
Whether you are white, black or green
A community as one living, working and socialising together
The debate of ideas that can bind us together, not tear us apart
Is this dream just a hope or could it come true
So much diversity and so much knowledge to gain
I hope religious doctrine will not stop this happening
And we can live as we should, without fear or condemnation
In a loving, caring hopeful place and not constrained
poem by Alun Jones
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Skin Deep
Skin spurns trite superficiality,
Kinship finds as surfaces disperse.
Intuitive, two rhyme and role reverse
Nature's comfort zones, free verse heart's plea.
Seasons and Time shed, sensitivity
Knowledge hard discards, hope can converse
In touch with touch for such much growth may nurse,
New light affords, cuts cords, as tendrils key
Subtly into each other - 'you' IS 'me'.
Karmic chance retracts roadblocks transverse,
Intact tact, tactile joys may reimburse
Numb days awaiting electricity.
SKIp through formal constraints to contact base,
INsights unite, may man-maid rings replace...
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 3 April 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Why Do I Write Poetry?
Why do I write Poetry?
The answer is not plain to see,
As a Legal Cashier I earn my Living,
For me and my family.
Why do I write Poetry?
Thoughts come to me in rhyme and verse,
They have to be worked on continually
To make those lines seem terse.
Why do I write Poetry?
One day HE’ll answer me,
Hopefully while I’m on this Earth,
Before I reach Eternity.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why must my lines scan and rhyme?
Not only on this occasion,
But forever, and all the time.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why put them on your website?
To leave my Thoughts and Visions of Life,
To you all and posterity.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 9 April 2005
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Nursery Rhyme (UNKLEsounds Edit)
Badly Drawn Boy :
Does it mean I never let you know
Each time I turn inside
When I fully grow I'll outsize you
But I won't let you fall in love
You know it flows over me
And you won't let me drown inside
Sing a nursery rhyme to keep me quiet
Sing a nursery rhyme to keep me quiet
Woman please stay close to me, close to me
Carried through your ecstasy
You can't stop me breathing
Even when you're on fire
Know that you're weaving
With my emotional wires
Flows through me, in through me, out through me
Over me, feeling me, feeding me electrically
It's electric ballroom love X7
Do do do do, do do do do
I have to breathe the air you breathe
I'm inside you
In a room inside a room, I'm inside you
The colour changes follow your emotion
I can see when you're feeling desire
I feel him close to you
While I just walk around inside you
Don't let him close to me
Not when you know it's not the one
The one X6 that you love
It's electric ballroom love X7
Keep me quiet
Won't you sing me a nursery rhyme
To keep me quiet while you're on fire
X3
Please just sing me a nursery rhyme
To keep me quiet, while I'm inside
X2
I won't let you fall in love
You know inside, the baby knows
X4
Your baby knows X4
You're on fire, you're on fire
Keep me quiet, keep me angry
song performed by by Unkle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stringing A long and short of it
Skelton
dealt on
terse taut
verse taught
strung list
tongue twist
fast rhyme
last time
[th]ink sends
wink ends
[c] Jonathan Robin 8 skeltonics written 8 June 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I Must Rid Myself Of Clutter
I feel cluttered by the junk accumulated in my brain
And I feel this great desire to recover my creativity again
And to rid myself of the shackles of my negativity
Change your thinking and change your World and change my thinking and change me.
Years of worrying about little worrying is a waste of time
And feeling envious of my betters and condemning them in rhyme
I am well beyond the fifty and still close to poverty
Negative thoughts only cause clutter and in a rose a weed you see.
If you gobble with the turkeys with the birds you cannot fly
And to tell yourself you are perfect is to tell yourself a lie
And to rid yourself of clutter is to set your thinking free
You will see a different World and look at others differently.
Negativity, greed and envy I must cast all of these away
And be less critical of others and not hurt them in what I say
Change your thinking and change your World still so happens to be true
And never too late to make changes and to start once more anew.
When I look into the mirror I can see my hair is gray
And I keep on telling myself I looked younger yesterday
We can change our way of thinking we are what we want to see
If I see myself as younger I can see a younger me.
I must rid myself of clutter it is never too late to change
Though many of those who know me may see me as someone strange
Do my bit for self awareness and to my life bring harmony
I can only change the World if I start by changing me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song Of A Rhyming Man
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.
I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.
You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nursery Rhyme
Badly drawn boy :
Does it mean I never let you know
Each time I turn inside
When I fully grow Ill outsize you
But I wont let you fall in love
You know it flows over me
And you wont let me drown inside
Sing a nursery rhyme to keep me quiet
Sing a nursery rhyme to keep me quiet
Woman please stay close to me, close to me
Carried through your ecstasy
You cant stop me breathing
Even when youre on fire
Know that youre weaving
With my emotional wires
Flows through me, in through me, out through me
Over me, feeling me, feeding me electrically
Its electric ballroom love x7
Do do do do, do do do do
I have to breathe the air you breathe
Im inside you
In a room inside a room, Im inside you
The colour changes follow your emotion
I can see when youre feeling desire
I feel him close to you
While I just walk around inside you
Dont let him close to me
Not when you know its not the one
The one x6 that you love
Its electric ballroom love x7
Keep me quiet
Wont you sing me a nursery rhyme
To keep me quiet while youre on fire
X3
Please just sing me a nursery rhyme
To keep me quiet, while Im inside
X2
I wont let you fall in love
You know inside, the baby knows
X4
Your baby knows x4
Youre on fire, youre on fire
Keep me quiet, keep me angry
song performed by by Unkle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Poetic Licence
I've got Poetic Licence
Applied the other day
I took a little test you see
They said I was OK.
With this Poetic Licence
I now talk just in verse
But sometimes when out shopping
It feels like quite a curse.
Where some would say
'Tomatoes'
I find myself in rhyme
I ask for things at length you see
It sure eats up the time.
Not 'tomatoes' do I ask for
Nor a kilo and a half
I come out with some poem
I do get lots of laughs.
The other day was dreadful
I wanted some roast duck
But try and try as I might do
The rhyme came quite unstuck
The only word that came to me
Was really very rude
It rhymed with duck quite well you know
But didn't fit with food.
I stumbled and I stumbled
Said 'errrr' a hundred times
And ended up with sausages
For the 57th time.
'Why sausages? '
I hear you ask
It doesn't rhyme with much
But I've got into a habit that simplifies my task
I just say to the butcher
'Do you think I am a bore?
Can I have the very same
That I bought here before? '
Each day it's getting worse and worse
You see I like my beer
But try and try as I might do
It only rhymes with 'queer'.
I've given up on sandwiches
That really is too hard
And trying to buy Panadol
Would foil just any Bard.
I often think of Shakespeare
Wordsworth, Tennyson and Donne
When they went out shopping
Did they just go on and on?
Or were they simply better
And quicker on their toes
Did they just point somewhere
And ask for 'one of those'?
My Licence is provisional
I've only got P plates
I must get in more practice
And not procrastinate.
I should read up on some poets
Using more contemporary words
Maybe those guys from the West Coast
Like that howling man Ginsberg.
They didn't see the need to rhyme
Now that would free me up
They wrote in lower case as well
Now that's a bit of luck.
Their style's just right for emails
In this computer age
So I could buy my goods on line
And dissipate my rage.
Let's have a go with this right now
Now what shall I purchase
A pizza or a hamburger
Delivered to my place.
My God this is fantastic
This is going to be fun
I'll download lots of music
Buy some books from Amazon.
Now will there be some problems?
It doesn't seem that hard
Oh dear for now I've hit one
Using my credit card.
It has such a long number
That doesn't seem to rhyme
No wait I think I've got it
It will simply take more time.
Let's look at that long number now
It ends with 649
Now what on earth could rhyme with that?
Be quick and be on time?
I think this is a breakthrough
I've really cracked it mate
Maybe order some champagne
So I can celebrate.
Suddenly I'm feeling lonely
Well that’s fixed up real quick
I'll go to on-line dating
And chat up some nice chick.
This virtual life suits me
It suits my poetry
I'll never move outside my house
Live electronically.
What's that?
You find me boring?
My talking just in verse?
You think I find it easy?
You think I can't converse
In ordinary language
Well let me tell you straight
It's my total dedication
And desire to innovate
That drives me ever onwards
And makes me play with words
What's that I hear you say to me
You find me quite absurd?
Well let me tell you sunshine
This special and new craft
It marks me out from others
At whom you have to laugh.
It's my artistic mission
To boldly go to where
Wordsworth may have trifled
But I shall bravely dare
To turn this thing called poetry
Into a living tongue
Make other talk seem boring
And find that I belong
In the world of art and culture
Intellect and song.
Combin-ed with the internet
I'll let my message reach
All those happy surfers
Replacing normal speech.
Now, what shall I have for dinner?
Damn those delivery men
The fridge is almost empty
Oh dear, sausages again.
12 May 2004
poem by David Keig
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My Rhyming Poem
I am 55 and a little crazy,
If I stand up to fast things become a little hazy.
I need another line,
I am really in a bind.
So early in my rhyme,
I've really messed up this time.
Hey this is kinda fun,
Reminds me of good old days in the sun.
This time I have really lost my wits,
Man this surly is the pits.
Some day I'll get this down,
Or Saint will take me to the pound.
With blue juice he'll say,
Baby you just couldn’t rhyme so this is your day,
The day I do this often,
Is the day I lay in my coffin.
I hope all of this rhyme’s,
Because GOD knows I have tried 100 times.
I think I might have been a tard,
My first rhyming poem really wasn’t that hard.
(this goes to all my friends and readers on here to show you I really cant rhyme but this was fun maybe I will do it again I said maybe Saint Maybe lol... I Love you guys)
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Change
Once there was a man of power
Had no care for human life
Then one day he saw his living lie
Growing all around him
The wheel of change had taken over
Found a love he never knew
Now he teaches children what is true
Gather all around him
What made him choose to turn away
What makes us change our mind
The will to see turns you around
There is no explanation why
There is no rhyme or reason
Just feel the love and youre alive
Running around in your confusion
From the cradle to the grave
Aint got time to see the world go by
Where are you going
Always moving round in circles
Talking words that never end
Standing in the grip of madness
Why oh why
What are you saying
How can we choose to run away
How do we change our mind
See the perception turn around
There is no explanation why
There is no rhyme or reason
Just feel the love and youre alive
Realise this understanding
Move before it gets too late
Take this chance
Or life will pass you by
This is the only way
We must pull ourselves together
Theres so much we must explain
Got to teach the children what is true
There is no other way
Why did we choose to turn away
Why did we change our mind
The will to see turns you around
There is no explanation why
There is no rhyme or reason
Just feel the love and youre alive
The incredible gift of life
Where the fire within burns bright
Every moment we live is true
And the spirit is all in you
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appreciating Free Style Poetry, From The Loose Poet
for EVO e.i.c and his staff
poetic seeds germinate
above the 5 poetical quilts:
mood, imagery, thought
melody, rhythm
regardless of twigs sprouting -
matured poet reaps twists and surprises
immatured one duplicates
poetry is not a sole reflection of man's
damn imagination thru rhyme and metrical phrases
poetry is not a tone of
monotonous lines of ala-classical tounges of greatness
and hackneyed syllables, homonymous end-words
poetry is but a variation of
mute voices from artistic loose mind
puzzling emotions spill out in any wad of papers
in unlyrical odes, or sober sonnets
in rhyme or wild verses
then what makes my poetry
when read
to make my critics weep
they feed to every reader's mind
as they know -
my poetry has magic
most of us keep so well hidden
sometimes narrow
sometimes deep
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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0007: 2007 - Year Of Revolting Poets
2007, he said, was a memorable year for poetry.
A world conference of poets held
somewhere NewMex way, came to the view
that the rhyming dictionary put altogether too
great a stricture on the structure
of verse, and worse;
it was time, for rhyme
(which came back into fashion
that year with a passion)
to be more relevant,
less of a white elephant;
so
all poets who
wrote in English
(including Strine)
were asked to define
what words should be allowed appropriately to rhyme.
It took a little time;
since they couldn’t agree about basic words
(some felt that ‘ words’ shouldn’t even rhyme with ‘turds’,
they thought that any such ditty
would be shitty;
some thought that such a possibility of rhyme was crap,
and would lead to poetic mishap)
So, first things first, what would be appropriate
to rhyme with love?
(which of course some pronounced luv,
others, lurve) :
some felt that rhyming it with ‘above’
had just a smidgen
of politically inappropriate reference to religion…
* * *
The whole idea was well meant
but you can see just how it went –
it took until 3006
even just to fix
after long debate upon it,
fourteen rhyming words to cover one suitable sonnet
by which time
those celebrated poets who did or didn’t rhyme,
while English tended to vanish,
were writing in Spanish
or Chinese;
bringing American-language poetry to its knees.
then vowelless txt
became the nxt
style
for a while
(which left poetry weakened,
bcs t cdnt b spknd) …
* * *
But I’ll have to cease this sorry tale;
I’ve a Hallmark card I need to mail.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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