Uncategorized – Page 350 – POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

s the shape of my boredom the shape of a good poem?
Are the curves of the electric blue Prime bottle
that I bought from the corner store the other day
enough to excite your imagination?

Do the pencils strewn across the bed,
amongst a small bottle of hand sanitiser
and a beanie constitute quality?
Would orange juice reconstitute quality?
What about silk sheets? Or a Mazerati?
Is content king?
Or is it form?

Do you need a fluctuation of phrase
flinging itself across the page?
Does the length of the line meddle in the mental load
of fathoming a prime pick? A premium piece of prose?
Is it the ephemeral moment when words are left unspoken
in the right order that resonates with the rung out?
Does ringing out, being out, outting oneself
over time undermine or refine the rhyme?

Do you get me this time?
It’s important you do, see, you don’t wanna be the joker
that misunderstands me
My words, my poetry
Because my nonsense it’s musical
If you can fuse it all into your tiny skull

I don’t really mean that, verse, phrase
It’s all subjective and none of it pays
Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a little praise

Will you give that to me today?
No? Not yet?
It’s ok, all I have is time
trapped in this place without a dime to my frame
I live in shame
of the sad poems I bag knowing
I’ll never have fame
stop me now
put me out of my misery
let me put you out of yours
It’s sore to see myself fall so far
this nonsense has overtaken my painstaking
words
I’ve heard
a rhyme to my name so I rhyme it’s now a game to see how far I can go
across oceans across seas
my words carry me
to corners of this globe
like Glasgow, let me know
if you’re bored yet
I’m copping out now
see how I drop the ball, I appal all with
my small minded rhyme
I’ve used it again, I’m sorry
for the pain
I’ve done to your eardrums
It can’t be as fun for you as it is for me
to be this silly with the tone
of the phone I’m getting a call from home to stop the drone of my voice
now
right now
cow
show (that’s show pronounced show to rhyme with cow)
how, you may ask does one get this good at the task of speaking
Listening to Speak Now Taylor Swift
Dance al – bum

Does this pass the inspection
of a class you expected
in poetry
No?
Can I blame you not to
tow the line is this my sign
to end it before you ask me to resign
Fine.

Wait, maybe there’s still time
to save myself and my rhyme
oop, there I go, time and rhyme, again
I promise I’ll refrain
from now on
and plow on from this place to that
remind me where I was at
Oh yes
Is this a good poem?
Or nat?
Or not? Is this a good poem or not?

RHYME Poem by Danish Javed

Oh, my little heart, don’t get attached
To things that are far.
The moon looks enchanted, but it’s all just a mirage.
Don’t fall for it, or you will fall hard.

That damn smile you had to put,
Before showing your face for others to look at.
My heart ached, but I had to smile.
Don’t you worry, Mum, because I’m alright.

Oh, my little heart, don’t you cry.
A day will come when my misery will die.
When death knocks on my door, I will smile and hold on once more.
I fell for someone who isn’t mine,
And carry her in my heart forever, until I die.

Those wonderful moments, that pleasing hope,
Will finally fade away when I’m gone.
Oh, my little heart, don’t you stop.
Endure until the game is on.
Be a sacrificial pawn and protect your queen;
My father told me that’s how you win.

RHYME Poem: I Saw a Woman on the Street Today, by Joanne Grumet

I saw a woman on the street today
And it might have been her.
Her hair was long and flying away
But I really wasn’t sure
She carried herself so well
But I couldn’t tell
I couldn’t tell

I only saw her one time for sure
at the station with you
I turned my back real quick
There was nothing else to do
And I stumbled to the street
We really couldn’t meet
We couldn’t meet

Another woman has you,
But I have you, too
I didn’t think it mattered
Till I ran into the two of you

I saw a woman on the street today
And when she walked my way
I was sure it was her
So I turned my gaze away
But her eyes had stabbed me through
I think she knew.
I think she knew

RHYME Poem: DEAR FATHER TIME, by Uma Shankar

Dear Father Time, I write to you
In greyed hair and wrinkled skin
In foggy recollection of many a welcome and adieu
Dusty trophies of varied hues in the trash bin

Matter you are not, or else I would have consumed you
Energy you are not, or else I would have used you
What currency are you that I can only spend
What beast are you that I now try to befriend?

Before, after, then, when exist in you
If my mind stayed still, would it be able to touch you
You, whose passage is marked by the sun and the moon.
Stand frozen, as lovers share ice cream on a single spoon!
Why is my poetry trapped in rhyme
It happened again, for the nth time!
To change how the words come out, I took many a class
Stop here or gently pass.

RHYME Poem: 提太湖 By the Lake in the Place Named Lake, by Cela Xie

我 My father said that god is lovelier
爸 than him, but both of them still fail
照 to read the water scarred with silver braille;
着 the heavens wanted them to hear the slur
他 that suits me best as I run by the blur
的 my lord has made of surface, sky and gale —
形 my glasses slip, and each transparent scale
象 wavers with the rain — but a savior
创 will not appear, and if they did, I would
造 not listen; I do not care if my sight
了 is clear; I do not want a hand in mine,
神 I think my darkness is perfectly good
和 without a cross holding a witch alight
我 with shame; call me a whore, I’m fine.

Translation:
提太湖
我爸照着他的形象创造了神和我。
Written by the Great Lake
My father created god and me in his image.