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Titular:

"Nowadays, it means that you
are an empty, non~deserving of
whatever title you take for granted"

A poem,
but if be untitled,
if it be a titular,
what are we to make of it?

the title is the 🔑
but to be untitled
is
an acknowledgment of
defeat

the key to unlocking
the inner-est construct,
from within, or without,
is the title.
without
which
the poem cannot
constructed,
deconstructed,
and then
reconstructed

it is:

the clue

the hint

***** it,
it is the soul insight
that leads the reader's eyes

to the water,

to the enquiring,

the scent of

mmmmm,

that!

is worth investigating,

that fresh baked,
right out of the oven,
you know it when you
smell it, and your tracks,
suddenly stop, turn around,
cease the scrolling,
go back,
get ****** in,
and roost within,
exclaiming,

****, that title,
that came from the right in,
not a glancing blow,
more like a right hook,
Happy-attached to a line and sinker,
and the poem that leaves you forever
thinking,
cannot ever
get enough
of that fresh bread aroma,
and the great brioche
the bravado
of one of those,
{who knew, who knows?}

that the nexus of
the next intriguing title
of the
next poem,
and the next next poem,
is not
an empty
unwashed titular,
of the
un
en~~titled

an yet,
more a tease
to our curiosity's
cat,
to the
as of yet unimagined,

it is in
that invitation,
for your preparation
to be
astounded…and advantaged…
10/05/'025'
^
The phrase "he exhibited a great brioche" is a reference to a specific painting by the artist Édouard Manet and his admiration for the work of an earlier master, Jean Siméon Chardin.
The painting: In 1870, Manet painted a major still life featuring a large brioche, now in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. The painting is an homage to Chardin, a celebrated 18th-century still-life painter.
The reference: The phrase comes from a story told by Manet's friend, the painter Jacques-Émile Blanche. Manet declared that still life was "the touchstone of the painter" and, when asking Blanche to bring along a brioche for him to paint, said he "exhibited a great brioche".
Chardin's influence: Manet's painting was a clear response to Chardin's famous work, The Brioche, which had recently entered the Louvre in 1869. The two works share several motifs, including the brioche, various fruits, and a diagonal placement of an object to create a trompe-l'oeil effect.
A "touchstone" of painting: Manet's statement about still life being a "touchstone" underscores his view of the genre as a rigorous test of a painter's skill. It reflects his belief that a painter could express their complete artistic vision through inanimate objects.
Moe Aug 19
the moon forgot  
how to be round tonight  
and i
i misplaced my name  
somewhere between  
your shoulder blade  
and the breath  
that almost said  
stay

(why do clocks insist  
on knowing everything  
about leaving)

i tried to write  
but the letters curled inward  
petals afraid of morning  
and the sentence  
ran away  
with the silence

you were never a person  
you were a parenthesis  
i stepped into  
and never stepped out of

the sky  
is not blue  
it’s memory  
trying to remember  
how to feel

i loved you  
a comma  
pausing before  
the thought  
that never arrived

and if i could  
unbutton the stars  
i’d fold them  
into paper cranes  
and send them  
to the version of me  
that didn’t forget  
how to feel

but i did  
and you did  
and the world  
keeps spelling itself  
wrong
star Jul 27
stheyre goingto find me
thosefeelingsi tried to leavebehing but theyy sswoulndt leave me.

theywalk beside me in thesunlgith sheileding their eyes
and in the darktheysmile stroking my hair

sayingyou;re n o t e n o u g h enunciating eachwordhisssssing
whispers

never ever ever enough youcould ne v  e   r be en o ugh
too much at the same timg like please picka ******* feeling

shes an oldfriend thistype oflonliness
i know her well
.
5.27.25 (4:13 pm /16:13) yea so i was perhaps maybe having a major panic attack
Matt Jul 14
Stay.
Never say
you’d rather go.
Don’t pretend
this isn’t real.
I know
you care.
You’ll never leave

You flip my life upside down.

Leave.
You’ll never
care.
I know
this isn’t real.
Don’t pretend
you’d rather go.
Never say
You’ll stay.
A poem that can be read nearly perfectly front-to-back and back-to-front but with two different meanings.
What songbird?
thought my bucks and belts
might make air cowboy
soft embrace landing

buck the rest &
bite the wrist right
scrape knuckle on cheek
cutie

I've heard cranes creak
less in your ears than
when I said it all
everywhere
Nat Lipstadt Feb 11
musing on memory and all that
re its capabilities, its utilities
and wondrous
abilities, to cover, recover, and
surprise surprise uncover the known
and unknown, what was, what is and
what there is to dis-cover, for memory
is a tricky ole *******, you recall what you never knew at all, forget the address where you lived twenty years ago, and don’t get me
started re telephone numbers
of
old lovers, who get got gone good away
and the combination of a subset of their
digits is likely to be on a discarded lottery
stub, that stubs your shoe too

cannot remember all the women I’ve ever kissed, but I remember the kiss, and that’s
a fair trade off

pretty bad at remembering, birthdays, anniversaries, but that’s because my electronics believe me of this obligation;
Not the obligation to buy a present,
On time, but the kindness keenness of
doing the action, is you an in Nate satisfaction, One gets, when crossing off a line item on your to do list

Sometimes the choices between remembering,
and being dismembering, when is definitely preferable to the other, and though you are not present, I hear your moaning softly
I know I know!

So take a moment to make sure all those critical dates to others, are in your calendar, electronic, and I recommend minimum one week ahead alerts; and one day before as a fail, safe

Do it now or fail to be safe
If I knew how,
I'd write music to go along with the words in my poems,
And I turn my poems into songs.
Some poems don't need tittles, the words in them are good enough on their own. So I'm suggesting an idea to the poets in this community, a new kind of verse. No names, only emotion.
i remember the scratching sound of the record player
i remember the sharp blade of the scissors as the dim light reflected
i remember the noise of the cars 4 stories below
i remember the pills i thought of dying from so many times
i remember getting so acquainted with death that i tried to join him
i remember the red lines on my wrist
i remember feeling the sharp sting
i remember the music giving me life
i remember the music making me feel things that i don't feel
i remember the lights
i remember fading away
i remember my phone wallpaper
i remember the music taking me away
i remember blades of grass, so sharp in the morning sun
i remember sitting in my window nook as it rains
i remember the noise
i remember shutting down
i remember foggy mornings
i remember not talking
i remember not moving
i remember not being able to breathe
i remember the streetlights
i remember not feeling like myself
i remember looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger
i remember the sound of a fountain pen on parchment paper
i remember the taste of lemonade in the summer
i remember cloth scraping against flesh
i remember ribs poking through translucent skin
i remember dizziness
i remember the hunger
i remember the sun
i remember the rain
i remember drawing with posca markers on my arm
i remember dancing in puddles
i remember slightly too long sleeves
i remember my first concert
i remember playing piano
i remember feeling the sun on my face
i remember the feeling of the car as it speeds up
i remember watching ride the cyclone in my best friend's basement
i remember the cuts
i remember the red marks
i remember the hunger
i remember the hunger
i remember the hunger
a poem based on a kind i learned at a camp. write down i remember, and then the next thing that comes to mind to complete the sentence. i had to leave the room to cry in the bathroom for an hour. this will never be finished, ill just come back every so often and add to it
Karmen was Heard Nov 2024
So many people go unnoticed
Just staying in the background
But they're important too
The term 'INDIHAIKU' is a kind of poem created by Ben Noah Suresh and it is kind of a haiku. Basically it is a three-lined poem where the goal is not to have the 5 - 7 - 5, but to just let the words flow.
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