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Ksjpari Aug 2023
A former lyric to celebrate some bode
A lyric to praise someone who is a goad
A lyric in praise of the West Wind - an abode
Of Autumn and frost; a lovely lyric that rowed
Many poets to the highest pinnacle mode –
Inspired me too, try my skills at a crossroad.

Poets write on ephemeral with you, O Anode!
They describe love, beauty, or music, borrowed
From Pindar or 1st century poet Horace lode.
But chose I You, Dear, stunning, serene, grim Ode.
Inspired so much that feelings and views outflowed
From my pen and compelled to pen down the load
On the paper; ideas from Wordsworth I borrowed.

A strict line or stanza is not required in ode
So free, so unrestricted, so honest to explode
Your emotions; anyone can try his carload
To stride his feelings to carve elation sowed
In heart to pen down his emotions bestowed.

Types are the Pindaric ode, the Horatian ode,
and the Irregular ode; third being most popular load.
I follow Monorhyme, and wrote an ode on an ode
To commemorate importance. Nor ignore nor strode,
Used my flair, elegance and ideas winnowed
With imagination; no notion borrowed.

The tone is serious, genuine, and reflective strode
Celebrate major events and moments load
Aeolic ode written with a calm, tranquil mode
And contemplative tone so that pacify abode
By William Wordsworth or John Keats showed
Expecting to see more elegant and serene ode.
I wrote this poem intellectually. I spent almost five days to find proper words and rhymings.
To Whom it May Concern,

My blood begins to burn
and I’m compelled to spurn
the current plans to turn
our mascot to a worm.

The members from my firm
cannot stay taciturn
when our alumni learn
that strangers overturned
the past we had governed
because they’re all stubborn,
seeking to be modern
and spread, exploit and churn
their folly and their germs.

I urge you to discern
the consequence you’ll earn
unless you can confirm
our legacy long-term.
We will not adjourn
until it’s reaffirmed
that history is stern
and keeps our old pattern.

If you do not concur
and submit to our terms,
then surely you will yearn
for courtesy interns
as funding will downturn
and we will watch you squirm
like spiders in an urn
at the point of no return.

Sincerely, Dr. Kern
monorhyme about the influences of funding on schools' decision making

for peace in solidarity.
Mark Toney Nov 2019
Penultimate month, November
Tending memories’ eternal ember
Sparking thoughts, grand and tender
With honor and thanksgiving to remember
For each who of the human race are a member
11/1/2019 - Poetry form: Monorhyme - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Mark Toney Oct 2019
world's trouble

dark sky...

depression subtle

i deny...

emotions muddle

i sigh...

thoughts befuddle

i belie...

tears puddle

i cry...

God subtle

I comply...

Divine cuddle

I rely...

Believer's huddle

I ally...

Blessings double

Blue sky...
12/25/2018 - Poetry form: Double Monorhyme ;) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Why is there so much distrust,
Fueling hatred, malice and lust?

We're caught up in every scam's gust
Leaving many financially bust

Including telemarketers' thrusts
Continuously feeding disgust

We're riding social media's cusp
Allowing real friendships to rust

Causing us to constantly adjust
Leaving us completely nonplussed

Making too many tasks a must
Till we nigh spontaneously combust

Perhaps leaving God's Word thus,
On the shelf gathering dust

This matter needs to be sussed
Not with haphazard zeal but robust

By a brotherhood of people we can trust
With a worldwide campaign to discuss

Preventing impending zero-sum bust
Before we're all planetary dust
12/12/2018 - Poetry form: Monorhyme (couplets) - A Monorhyme is a type of poem in which every single line has the same rhyming sound at the end of the verse. A monorhyme can occur in a stanza, a simple passage, or even an entire poem as long as each line has that repetitive sound. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Logan Robertson Mar 2019
Their peering eyes sit at the window sill-
Looking in they get their thrill-
A mother's brimming mess they are still-
Trolling HP gives them their fill-
Their calling card speaks ill-
Of good poets swallowing their bitter pill-
Eliot needs to stop this unwanted chill-
Of trolls riding the thumbs down, drill-
Their actions take a good community through the mill-
And ****** if I am going to watch the blades spill-

Logan Robertson

When many voices speak up it should shake the tree. I write today, inspired by all the ones carrying a torch.
Logan Robertson Jan 2019
There she would be
Under a spruce tree
Wild and free
Like sand at sea
Holding the waves frenzy
Filled with so much spree
Scenic and capri
Down to earth to thee
The rain and sun give her glee
Moon and stars zzz
Her roots are key
The door to the tree
A foundation to the marque
It's branches and leaves agree
Knock on wood she be

Logan Robertson

Applaud the efforts of the Audubon and other conservativation groups that save the forest and trees. This preservation preserves the carbon, which the lack of such, as we're seeing, contributes to climate change. The roots of the tree goes beyond majestic, myopic and metaphors it can make man moralize.
Logan Robertson Oct 2018
So he threw all his chips on red
Thought only of what was in his head
Which turned out to be shots of dread
For his seeds planted in young women's garden bed
Without nary water or breaking bread
Or nary knowing the breaches of his and her homestead
So he rushed down stranger's alley shed
On a runaway, wrongheaded cocky sled
Through her banks, he crashed her spread
Like a raging, raging thoroughbred
Nary was a thought of a rubber glove on his dragonhead
For the buried absence of love was in his heart of lead
There's his wife at home tucking their kids in their bunkbed
While he flirted with the forbidden apple instead
It was this night that lives in infamy for others to read this dread
For the news broke of a married man impregnating a young coed
Accosting such teen to what now proves to be his deathbed
Yet if he unwinds his c(l)ock and placed his chips on black he wouldn't have bled
Petering out the ills in his marriage he would have been freed
Now he shrivels in a shameful battle of what went through his head

Logan Robertson

I came back to read this. What a maze. I see a little lab mice running through the corriders of temptation, going this way or that, looking for that sugar cube. I see it racing, like its addicted. Then I look back at this poem and see a correlation.
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
those **** trolls fish for gloom
baiting your roses and bloom
behind their mask and costume
a guise filled with malice loom
there spans from the beasts womb
a monster preying your doom
they take your light to dark displume
like fishes facing the jaws of gloom
eliot watches schools get entomb
like a stepping stone to their fume
it takes no rocket scientist's broom
to sweep the trolls from the classroom
nears the hour of our death, trolls resume

Logan Robertson

I wrote this poem very impromptu, almost with a giggle like motivation. I was smitten with the attention it's receiving however how I wished it was divided, and a poem like, A Workplace Rendezvous (which I like more than this poem), received a peak (wordplay!)_
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
another June swept by
on see-saws, I cry
tears dwell my mind's eye
for playgrounds bone dry
my clouds puff the sky
rings of black sheep sigh
one by one nearby
no pasture to ply
my mind went awry
with no wool let fly
the beaten path, aye
the days, months, years lie
lie waiting to die
banzai to July
another month to pry
I sit and watch shy
for a piece of pie

Logan Robertson

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