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fatima Jan 2018
'wag mo kong kalimutan'
mga katagang sinambit mo
habang pinipilit **** tanggalin ang iyong kamay sa aking kamay

'wag mo kong kalimutan'
mga katagang sinambit
noong panahon na ang mundo natin
ay nagtatagpo sa isang segundo lamang

'wag mo kong kalimutan'
mga katagang nagpaikot sa atin
na ating pinaniwalaan at pinagtibay
ngunit ang tadhana'y mapaglaro

ngayon ang katagang ito
ay winasak tayo
pinaiyak at dinurog
sa isang segundo lamng

ngayon ang katagang ito
ay isang uri na lamang
sa katagang nilimot ng ating panahon
at kinakalimutan  natin ngayon
My pitch through sow
and debt trouble superfluous
with wealth in Coe
where thrift a hoax now
but tread yuan nigh
there my dear and die in relief
that join forces by tomorrow's spring.
Sebastian Coe-Parliamentarian noted for Paralympics
Ceyhun Mahi Feb 2017
A gleaming view above Hong Kong,
Narrates much delight of Hong Kong.
Mâhî hasn't visited there,
But yet still he does love Hong Kong.
A quatrain with a redif (refrain) 'Hong Kong' who comes after the rhyming words (above, of, love). I really like to use this kind of refrain because it gives me space to remain with the subject I am writing about, although it can also limit poetic expression, too. I have learned this technique from studying Ottoman Divan literature and Persian poetry where this is used frequently, but I also have seen Shakespeare using it in one of his sonnets. I even think that this way of rhyming can make rhyming much more popular again in modern poetry; it does rhyme, but with a different touch this time.
Nigel Finn Dec 2015
The darker side of my mind is where
Abstractions of fragmented poetry breeds;
A baby lies dead in a Hong Kong gutter,
And my lines fall into place.

Broken hearts sing lullabies to me,
Two savage beatings spare me a verse,
New Orleans lends me four at low interest,
And throws in a haiku for free.

The old veteran quotes me three lines
And gets buried with the last.
The rhyme festers with his body;
Both soldier
                      and verse
            are
                       free
                                       again.

I can't explain the beauty I see
In the dying faces of the abandoned ones,
Nor tell you why, if the bomb were dropped tomorrow
I should weep in both anguish and delight.

I can only tell you, should it all end,
Should all modern horrors dissapear,
The future will weep for the joys of the present
And smiles will dissapear forever
Miss Clofullia Aug 2015
as far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a poet,
just didn’t have the words for it.

**** Facebook people are out to get me
I can’t ***** any of my “yo’ momma” jokes
I cannot land any ***** **** pictures on my friends’ walls..
and right now they’re tryin’ to ******’ make me change my name!
the alternative would be for me to scram,
but i am not a fast runner.

like a big fat wizard of wOrdZ King Kong, I’ll climb
office buildings, with a ******* each arm,
only to scream out: “Made it, Ma! Top of the world!”.
not sure why I needed to get here.
you all can see me, right?

life should be as Robert put it: “Better to be king for a night, than schmuck for a lifetime!”
I’m still waiting for that special night.
I think everyone should live like this! For that “one night”.
that would certainly make the commies smile.
they’d form a queue, hoping they’ll have another chance to a fresh night of
kingdomness.
*******!
I believe ****!

I hate to say this, but this race is getting to me.
I think I’m getting the fear.
yeah.. really! sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m gonna die right at the next curve,
and my fear pushes me to push the pedal to the metal.

you know what they say: “Death’s forty minutes away. I’ll be there in ten”.
or was it thirty?
never mind!.. I’ll be there in ten!

today, my space friend told me about the #FuckTheMan movement.
I found it to be very static..
despite the authority defying mumbo jumbo.
I told him that I’m gonna use it in one of my poems and
pretend that I’m smart.

I don’t think he believes (in) me anymore.
I’m lying right now.

Ha!

— The End —