A rose blooming in a summer rose bed
stops to envy you as you smell the roses.
For two beauties sit in the picture,
but neither is the rose.
The sight of you is a wonder to my eyes,
one that keeps me warm through winter days.
The grace inside you is as beauty
and beyond my words to explain.
So when I fumble my syllables,
embrace me as the rose embraces the rain.
Burden or Relief?
Love or hate?
Share or split?
Choice is ours to create the
Bond, or extricate?
Escape or accept?
Joy or pain?
Hope or fear?
Choice is yours to ensure the
Concord, or discord?
Unfurls the pure truth
Choice either to win or lose
Or walk towards love.
- Aishwarya Sridhar
Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. Simple as that, And proceeds on, with unlimited stanzas.
The clock ticks
Pounds on the inside
Of my skull -
Need an aspirin
(on the Sofa)
feel the Beat
(and never go)
be my boy
at the end
secrets of love
Context: This is a poem i wrote for a lofi album I'm working on. Each line is a song title and the album name will be Sofa Beats (like beats to listen to while doing nothing) Let me know what you think!
I love the way her hair turns in circles,
How she cuffs her pant legs to show her shoes,
The way she hikes her pants like Steve Urkle’s
How she only wears different kinds of blues.
If my parents knew they’d certainly cry.
Such disappointment for their only kin,
But if they knew they would surely ask: Why?
My religion would view me as a sin.
My mom says I am committing a crime.
My dad says I should not think about it.
My friends say they’ll support me in due time.
My therapist says this will go to ****.
My story has no home, it is a stray;
But this story has a plot twist. I’m gay.
A sonnet for those who wish they could be themselves.
I watch him tapping, from the corner of my eye.
Left hand. Pointer to pinkie. Sequentially.
Beginning and re-beginning.
Defeated, intent, scowling, jubilant.
In my imagination he is a poet, counting syllables.
Writing haiku in his head, as he waits in traffic for the light to turn green.
‘You've got to be kid-
Well, crud, what just happened there?
I ran out of syl-‘
- Rick Riordan, The Hidden Oracle
hardest party with beauties and saddo
husband's wifey is choosing bolt cutter
**** gets naughty with ****** at brothel
noxious youngin threw toolkit at father
wanton hottie is looking for lover
son is eyeing good-looking step-mother
some ****-dropping is pooping on flower
punk's just gotten caboose-kicked by copper
dumbest blondies are students of Harvard/Oxford
Trump went shopping with Putin for armor [oops, this one is risky]
Heptasyllabic, and then
I wrote this for national poetry month last year hope you all enjoy this as much as my English instructor did
I used to say I wish to never ever fall in love.
But now I’ve met this girl and want to wish that all away.
Because even after all this time now I want to change.
So open my heart, break me apart, Im looking to fall in love.
I’m also playing around with extremely long yet rhythmic lines and seeing if I can make them work.
were neve enough
to stockpile the realisation,
that I needed
more words to tell you that....
some times to be subdued by limitations means i need more time.