"alliterate" poems
(explicit)
**** my soul
with poetry
scream out my gracious name
slay me with words
that peel my layers
and simultaneously
drive me
insane
finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
push me past my
tender limits
into tongues of syntax,
sublime
alliterate my senses
(in swift stac
c-at
o)
until my mind is but blank verse
mess up my stressed
and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed
I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
I will be able to make)
as you stroke
my iambic pentameter
in the heat of frothed-up
ache
we are this heroic couplet, you see
even if the meaning seems veiled
no need for simile or metaphor
as I feel your chest rise
in deep inhale
we are a natural paradox
so many ironies abound
discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
in visible darkness found
and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
into mine
our lines have no beginning,
no end
as we undo
the boundaries
of time
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
Acerbic antagonist alliterates agonizing accusations,
blasting ******* backbiter butting beautiful bombastic brainy blond bomb.
Cumulative cranial casualties cease caveman's cognitive coherence.
Doom digger derides Daddy's dangling dire dreary ****
Eclectic esoteric eccentric egotistical estranger;
Forthcoming fathoms fetch faithless fleeting father.
God given goblins gather gossamer ganglions;
Hell's hairy harlot harpies hover heeding Hyperion.
Ignatius imbibes irrevocably insisting,
"Jesus juggles justice's joy jarring jams."
Kindness kindles Kilimanjaro;
Malicious mountains melt, Mmm, morning marjoram.
Nothing negates Neanderthal ninnying.
Overt obsessions obfuscate original object of
purest passions, paltry past pinings,
quickly quieted, quelled,
resisted, relinquished, readily, ruefully, roundly
saturated, suffocated; surreptitiously silenced,
terribly torturing the thrashed tamed tormentor:
Ugly, ungrateful, unapologetic,
Vanity,
woefully wallowing, wailing, "Where's
Xanadu's
zeitgeist!?"
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
How do I love you - in poem or prose
In a story, a eulogy, aubade or an ode?
I could love you in a sonnet
A senryu, though terse
I'd spill my heart - drop by drop
Or ink it verse after verse
I could write a terzannelle
A villanelle I could chance
Tapping on the refrain of love
The feet of romance
I could weave metaphors and similes
Sweet and sublime
Or trip down the keys
Playfully alliterate each line
How do I love you?
I can love you as I do -
In simple words that are writ -
From a heart that is true
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
Why they call me the fearful poet! (The Razor Thin Difference)
*”but who am I to complain
the razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin,
sometimes are they not, the same thing”*
Aug. 2018
~~~
this familiar line, well traversed, lives on the maps
sketched indented on your palms and brow,
at the edges of the crow’s nests, the eye’s keyboard witnesses,
recording every stroke
we tap in seeings, forming letters,
letters into lines, lines into verse,
as we alliterate, we walk unawares,
of the razor thin difference tween blessings and curse,
indiscernible until concluded, perhaps, not even then,
the stanza’s probable outcome,
always unsure, unknowing destiny’s decision
so we walk, tread, plumb, shoutout
“vive la difference,”
hoping the blessing messengers hear us first,
consummating our pleas on their favorable sight & side,
ever fearful, we do not shout loud enough,
do the blind hear,
need me, possess my sacrificial offerings,
my trepidations, burnt on the Temple’s altar
who will breathe their smoke and understand
their fearful origins?
so we-write, cajole that our every moment’s fear,
find the difference, that we don’t bleed from life’s razoring,
the thinner thinnest
needle threaded,
**and fear is the threat,
and fear is the thread,
that holds me together**
until the unraveling
requires me to write again,
the fearful poet
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 7:18 AM UTC
my fingers tap dance on the keys
hopefully the rhythm rhymes
wrapping words round the relief
my sans serifs have symbolized
if i can alliterate the literacy
& make allusions to my usefulness
maybe it will hyperbolize the symmetry
& let similes diffuse the mess
so please believe in paper wings
ink blots will not weigh me down
i'll deceive with dialogue & themes
while i antagonize the ground
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC
some people think about their poetry
I know many do,
to make sure the the 3rd and 4th rhyme
to make sure all there lines sing in time
But I have no time for that
Im thousands of years old but bearly 17
so ill blurt
and ill slur
and ill cringe
and ill howl
and ill snip
and ill snap
and splurt
and curse,
I'll walk my fingers to the key board and take of their leashes,
let them run wild in the dog park of my sanity
my ramblings,
they don't need any s
t
r
u
c
t
u
r
e, nor do my sentences need to make sense
why would I conform To YOUR insanity
when I have my own band brewing like a bathtub bomb
Nothing I say needs to work as hard as my hands do
nothing I need to do should feel as heavy as the souls i carry in my
broken-strapped-bad-backed-back-pack
my alliteration literally doesn't need to alliterate its meaning
and I'm so Tired of Ideas being steam pressed into my head by the maid
that runs this mad house
you'll need to use your hands to eat this poem , I've turned the cutlery
into toy soldiers and their currently occupied in overseas service
so dig into my mind
ill open the front door for you just please remember before you
scoop out my brain
w
a
s
h
y
o
u
r
h
a
n
d
s
LG
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
I fell in love with you in metaphors. Having never seen you, but reading every word you write.
The way you dangle your participles, naked and raw, yet still soft and round, then casually leave unfinished sentences as if to say, please, finish me as you will
You tempt with your soft parentheses, tightly wrapped around my waist, the words they squeeze rubbing up against the curves
Your similes, a sideways smile, like the cat, canary gone, pull me closer until your delicate punctuation is so warm, so wet, I can feel it pressed against me, you alliterate, such sweet surrender, so sublime, and I succumb
I want you now in rhyme, in verse, in prose, in sweet haiku
'where in so few words
you trace the shape of my heart
and then (somehow) paint its hue'
I fell in love with all your metaphors, the way your sentence structure feels pressed hard against my body, devilishly running on so that I'll follow ,your undulating syllables, your firm round letters, your tight sweet semi-colon, that no common comma could replace.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
I focused on poetry
to write about you
about us, about our love
I did poetry cause I know we rhyme
Our behaviour alliterate
and bae you know what
In a land of poems my love for you
Juxtaposes cause I hate to love you so much
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 5:12 AM UTC
overwhelm me if you can
gravity has already got it covered
Got a lump in my throat
Full of words too big to get out
we can't read lumps and I can't read my mind
Consider me alliterate
Doing fine I never could consider it
I know I'm slow
But I'm so smooth my mistakes don't even show
Tasks piled miles high on my plate
Let's just say my eyes are bigger than my stomach, too much to chew
It's Friday, I'm ecstatic this week is through
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
My alliteration is alienating my appetite and i just might atrophy on sight if my rhymes cant interweave to achieve some insight as to why the **** i even try every night.
Such is the life of a write.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
How do I love you - in poem or prose
In a story, a eulogy, aubade or an ode?
I could love you in a sonnet
A senryu, though terse
I'd spill my heart - drop by drop
Or ink it verse after verse
I could write a terzannelle
A villanelle I could chance
Tapping on the refrain of love
The feet of romance
I could weave metaphors and similes
Sweet and sublime
Or trip down the keys
Playfully alliterate each line
How do I love you?
I can love you as I do -
In simple words that are writ -
From a heart that is true
Repost
Feb 14, 2024
Feb 14, 2024 at 11:12 AM UTC
I'll sit here,
Encased in the night
Before the sun of my screen,
And look over my shoulder
Every now and again
Because I can't stop now,
I'll write another
******* love poem
Like it means something to me
Like these words spilling
Like broken glasses
Soaking this mangle of a poem
Can actually say anything about how I feel.
I could absolutely alliterate
And methodically metaphor
Like a truck stuck in mud
But you see
That's all I'll ever be,
Just stuck in this muddled mind of mine,
Grasping at the ghost of us
That does not exist in any
Tangible reality,
And so I'll write another
******* love poem,
And someone will swoon
And clap their hands together
And tell me how lucky you are
To have someone like me,
When in the scheme of things,
It's not how I feel.
It's not even close to how I feel
Because how I feel
Cannot be articulated through some
Random array of 26 letters,
26 effortless, meaningless symbols
Slapped together without caution,
Stitched together with some form
Of a string of tears I cannot cry
Because the real me is trapped inside you see,
He's trapped up there,
Locked in a rusty cage with
Nothing to read
And nothing to sing
And nothing lovely to smell
When that rotted core of a sun
Beams over whatever fleshy horizon
Exists up there,
You see I'm not sure how to say it
Without making this some
God forsaken love poem
That's just like all the others,
But I'm trapped up here,
And only you
Give me hope
That I'll ever get down in one thinking piece.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
Maybe I write to rhyme
in meter and fair time,
I'll use cryptic phrasing
to describe my vision hazing.
Perhaps I'll run away
inside the words I say,
or bring you back
and not give you flack.
I could alliterate life
and cloak the fearsome strife.
But tonight I'll write
to forget our fight;
imagining your smile
or us playing a while.
You don't know it
but I am a poet,
wrapping you up in
my web, not so thin
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
You be my poet,
And I your poem.
Let the lyrics of our love swim
in your head,
Drift them to the sea of your soul,
And then,pen your feelings for me,
On a perfumed page.
Script each stanza in melodic verses,
Metaphor me,
Personify me,
Alliterate me,
Till I am submerged in your thoughts and emotions,
Only I,
I your true love.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 8:30 AM UTC
Please abstain from the abuse of alliteration, *******
I will not stand for this silly slaughter of semantics.
Rules are recorded to retain responsible reactions to ridicule,
and it's infinitely irritating to innocent intellects.
Alliteration always annoys any and all astute attendees.
books should be blessed by benevolent bars
of velvet, virginal, valiant variation.
Not repugnant, retched, reconstituted repetition.
Always avoid any attempt at alliteration.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
I used to write my poems in the dark, inside a hazy trance,
and cross-legged on midnight carpets.
Specters fanned around my knees like a magic trick, shuffling
gloom like parlor cards at a cabaret and recasting it something elegant.
Magic tricks are just a thing that happen to me.
I’d say a spell and words erupted from my haunted parts;
a sleight of hand for handed slights,
a sleight of heart while handling my own, always wet and dripping.
I collected words like coins and spent them like mourning candles.
Ennui is just a thing that happens to me.
I busked my city for praise, preyed on walker-bys,
stirred up a crowd with my charm and bewitching need,
then watched their eyes lose interest in my illusion, in my luster.
They’d move on, regretting the dollar they placed in my hat.
Dejection is just a thing that happens to me.
My bag of tricks hasn’t charmed in years, but I still polish the leather,
keep my luck tucked inside, try to keep my wits sharp and my candles lit.
I can still conjure up a crowd, spin a pretty phrase, alliterate and allocate,
string words like beads, pluck them like a harp, and hook like a huckster.
Enchantment is just a thing that happens to me.
May 10, 2023
May 10, 2023 at 9:24 AM UTC