"alphabetic" poems
“When an injured athlete urge a comeback to field for love of game, his vulnerability toward previous muscle wound hinder his mental ability to go on with a full swing. Though, same rule implicate for people who hold bleeding pen to draw alphabetic emotions”
Yesterday I met one of those fragile birds. She carry fractured pen fingers under her beautiful skin, has curious eyes with strange shyness and a touched heart. The pursue of selflove somehow quelled her creative charm. I never expected to encounter someone so likeminded. She put away her pen to avoid emotions, identically similar reason made me quit this so-called ability which once lured bunch of close friends and many others who never knew the face behind these emotionally colored pages...
Wish I could feel her feathers and let her touch my scars, but her shivering Fragile Soul stopped me to become a...
‘Bad Boy She Craves For...’
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
Another beautiful, colorful day ended favorably,
Gave happiness in jests, kindness, laments.
Morning's new orientation provided quick reassurance,
Supporting the universal view,
While xenophobia yielded zilch.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Apathetically
Beautifully Callous
Distant
Elegy Frees Gradual Hesitation
Insecurity Justifiably Killing Love
Momentum Nullifying Optimistic Peacefulness
Quietly Relinquishing Shared Togetherness
Unhappiness Virtually Wills
Xeroxing Yourself Zymotically
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
Antsy aardvarks all
accept ants accordingly
as an addiction
Bamboo bayonets
bought by barbaric, beastly
barons bite beatniks
Cloistered cobblers can
color candy-cane conches
concealing crooners
Daffodils doodle
daydreams down, debauchery
demons deafening
Every eon each
electric elephant eats
eleven elk eggs
For fun fantasies
file films filosophic'ly
filling filaments
Go get greens
Get grass grayer gal
goonie ghoul
Hello high hammock
how hooligans heave haddocks
heathenly hecklers
Igloos ixist in
icy islands interning
internationally
Jello jam jizzy
Jacks jostling jewels juney
jump jump joop jail
Dec 27, 2009
Dec 27, 2009 at 9:11 PM UTC
Reno, if a troll messeth with thee, forgiveth them
Their bound not free.
Reno, when the clown's maketh bad choices
Silence them with silence, not voices.
Reno, thou art a dear friend to me, so I thank thou
For always caring, and sharing what tis I believe.
Reno, thou art a being with class, and hopes art high,
Be thyself girl, let the poetry like bullet's fly.
Reno, we've been through this same type of hell,
Yet we don't quit do we? We're not trapped in some cell.
Reno, child of the lighter side,
Open thy mind, continue to expand, taketh that freak poet ride.
Reno, west coast poetic, like medicine thy word's art alphabetic
To soothe a person's bad day, into happiness in cool shade.
Reno, I shalt continue to back thine wonderful work's
And even whilst its us others do hurt, showeth them love always!
Reno,
What a blessing to all of us thou art
Reno,
Poetess by birth
Californian muse heart.....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Reno dedication/friendship dedication
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
Euphoria! Climb, energetic and prostrate yourself!
Walking each graffiti hajj
Bleak signal from an indigo mountaintop.
Iraq memoir remains constant.
You, Pavlov knew,
Coax solitary jazz.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 4:31 PM UTC
It has often been said to expand
But with the theory in being your plan
Now you might have multi-talents and only concentrating on one
Even though it is one that is not your finale in being done
It is the fact, you were probably doing one talent, and then later discover you were also doing another talent and didn’t realize you had another talent
Everyone has more than one craft
It may seem unimportant to you, but think of yourself as value
There is value in everything that we do with a purpose
One must connect the talent with an opportunity
Let’s say talent being an alphabetic letter, but when you add other alphabetic letters, the letters become a word
The same principle applies to multi-talented as you add one skill and inquiring with more
Think of multi-talented being numerous sentences
So multi-talented have many avenues and offer many opportunities
Think of it, you have acquired talents beyond measure
The value being a treasure
Expand your talent in being the show and tell
Market your talent in being a sell
Before you know it, you will have a clientele that will pass the word and continuing in your talent tell
Opportunities that will be just swell.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
Once upon a time was I a prodigy,
Wandering and drifting to find a phrontistery,
A fantasy beyond thinking,
I was a child of precocious virtuosity.
But now time has liberated from my corpsic avatar,
And to God, I was announced a groom to a bride called progeria,
Not only I but now the entire human race seems to undergo ephemera,
A phenomena not to be taken dilemma,
Death do us part dear poet
Though through our good deeds our work serves eviternal, sempiternal-and eternal.
I know not who I am,
But the tombstone that is scarred with my name cements a legacy that
Buries everybody's histories.
Death is but void and will lead me to become a martyr,
For I deeply believe that poetry is the finest art And not a literature,
I am certain that a spiritual minister on the day of my burial will fail to point out that I was a sinister,
They will all say great things about me-
Where is the wrong, where is the perfect picture?
I once decapitated a seraph for I but thought it was a boobook,
Look!
Now I can be pseudocodenymic numerical, alphabetic artist.
Yet, what am I rather than being a poet?
For the reason that death will deprive me of my rights and belongings,
I don't wish to fall in love but sometimes I get caught up that she might be the daughter of Jesus,
Because I can't get my mind off her celestrial features.
Who else but her makes my story worth telling?
But yet I was in bedlam because of her,
Yelling like a certified lunatic playing,
I however can't forget the asylum's floors and ceilings,
The horrible medicine that got me to be always day dreaming.
Is this the same "cycle of psychopathic love that all these poets failed to describe?"
Affirmatively! This is something they will never outmatch,
Sadly, this all seeing sun never saw
That me and her were a match since this world begun,
Hence, I had to give her up to win everybody's heart,
I gained a voice of thunder to be crowned the darkness author alive,
So I ask, where are the poets of yesteryear? The nail biting, acerbic, alcoholic nighthawk ******** who truly knew how to write?
WHERE IS WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE? WHERE IS EMILY DICKINSON? WHERE IS EDGAR ALLAN POE?
indeed I outmatch them all, do you know why?
It's because I am still alive!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
and an answer
bitter ***** be better
can't cut continue ****
don't do damage dark
electric energy exiting
finding figurative feelings
giving girls gestures
having her hair held
in inches intricately
just jostling judging
**** kinetic kindness
licking like love lives
make more madness mandatory
not new naked nausea
original order opposed
pretty pink particularly painful
quick questions quiet
reflections reproducing resentful
soaked sorrows soothingly
to take time
under universal urge
violent victories
welcoming weapons with whispers
xenophobic
ziplocked zombies
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
A time forgotten
Because we went separate ways.
Caution i have now
Did you intend for me to be
Cautious?
Everywhere I go I get a feeling of
Fear. Not because of the wrong but
Because of being hurt.
God! You still
Have me
In your grip.
Juggling these feelings that still
remain.
Kite flying these feelings.
Longing to be rid of these feelings.
Moments turn to days.
Nothing is helping.
Oh!!
Perhaps i should go? Or maybe
Question myself? as to why i still
Think of you.
Registering that it is time to go.
So i drop that rose you made in the
Trash.
Under the sadness of letting go is
Sense of
Victory.
Watching it land no more
Xoxo's
You are no longer there in my
Mind. Because we never
Zinged.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
Her smile was the rare alphabet that composed the words.
Words that made sentences
Sentences that begot paragraphs
Paragraphs that turned into pages
Pages that turned into chapters
Chapters that turned into books
Books that told my story.
My story that unleashed her into my heart and unveiled my century long love mines
My reaction to her smile was the punctuation that changed the meaning of every letter,word, sentence,paragraph, page, chapter, book and ultimately my story.
That was far from over ,she changed my world.
It was not just a smile but the mark of the finest exploration expedition ever known to my circles.
Her smile was the build behind the words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, chapters, the book and ultimately the story that sent me flying.
Far from over,it was not just a flight but a first class flight of passion, affection, belonging, attachment and confidence that saw me smile with a smile that moved the mountains and shook the valleys of my understanding.
She was the element 115 that changed the alchemy, geography, radiology physics .she changed my approach to the theory of everything.
The beautiful soul behind the rare smile that changed everything lays hidden behind the alphabetic curtain of five letters
Behold AMIGO
Not just a word but a monument
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 1:56 PM UTC
and i thought the slavs had a bad taste in music,
what with new Greek alphabetic suggesting
that Russians were natural chemists...
but seeking Karaoke incorporated into western
culture as the accepted Pearl Harbour,
i'm having second thoughts on Latin being
the alphabet dissociated from names and associated
to pitches as the proponent of music, given
Gangman Style - man in the high castle
(philip k. dick's novel, blade runner guy)
is a reality, 1984 is in the making while we ensure
everyone is docile; the day the Vatican abandoned
its practice of castrato singing as anti-anal:
don't know which is worse, getting anally penetrated
or having my ******** snipped; i guess
of the two wearing a niqab is better:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
alone
broken
crushed
destroyed
empty
********
gory
hurt
isolated
******
killed
liquored
murdered
nonchalant
ostentatious
painful
quitter
resented
stupid
troublesome
ugly
vicious
*****
xenic
yielder
zymotic
STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP
STOP IT NOW
you're not
a
word
a word
does not
define
look in the mirror
right now.
this is not you.
close your
eyes
and
see
your soul.
"Hello,
oh wow,
you're gorgeous."
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
A, b, c,
you took advantage of me.
D, e, f,
when told no you were deaf.
G, h, i,
I'm nothing you can buy.
K, l, m,
feed my soul to them.
N, o, p,
please don't be beastly.
Q, r, s,
you left me as mess.
T, u, v,
your the wave swallowing me into the sea.
W, x, y,
you watch me with your private eye.
Z,
now I'm going on to win the bet.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
It's only getting worse.
I'm only getting worse.
my eyes are;
aching, burning, cried out.
my lungs are;
deadweight, exhausted, ****** up.
my body has;
given up, had enough.
and it's not even noon yet.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
life, has had its few licks of me – to envelop me in its envelope;
a sad message to myself. but don’t we all wish we were perfect
messages from God, a bit heaven sent? to the people who worry
what people say about them – their weight of words; drowning
more in people’s words, then any piece of writing in the Word
p.s, a well written letter to myself – I’ve been trying to line up
most of my better memories in alphabetic form; while holding
a solitary feather. I got stuck at the letter A, to list all of my
achievements
hoping to steal time like a stolen kiss; conscious thoughts that
escape my lips – speaking of me as someone you’d truly miss.
as I sign a message of my life in the ink of my fallen tears
_trying to stick onto the side of hope, as a sticky note!_
Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 3:10 AM UTC
Ink runs through her veins .
She starts to write him into her story , using nothing but the rusted typewriter in the back of her brain. Using nothing but twenty six alphabetic letters she claims that it helps her forget yesterdays pain . Feel the unspoken poetry of lust and desire between your legs thats what she writes for her love at the end of every letter before she stamps it with blood red lipstick. Miles and miles apart from him she can hear his moans in the middle of the heavy rain and thunderstorms across the Atlantic ocean . As he sits in bed reading his love letters under the covers with legs wide spread. She texts him after an hour saying my poetry tells me what you do to yourself in the dark. I guess that's why some call love an art ~
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Slowly it sipped
with an alphabetic straw
A tasty words covered the tongue
for every sweetest,
the ear, it listen to the
beautiful phrases from
the malted poem
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 2:14 PM UTC
( Mathematics was easy ) x2
When we used to spell it maths
Till it was limited to addition and subtraction
Instead of calculus and integration
when there’s algebra and equation
Yes it was easy
When ‘’ ! ‘’ was just exclamation mark
‘e’ was just an alphabetic art
Till sin, cos and tan were
Homophones of sign , cosh , ten
Confusions didn’t arise at that age
When
Gauss , Pythagoras and Simpson photo;
pasted on General knowledge (book)
It arised when their creation were hard to acknowledge
It was easy
When circle was just a ring
No formula and any mugging
When ‘c’ was nither arbitrary nor proportionality
CONSTANT
When relation was just connection
Function was just operation
No hypothesis and theorems
Mathematics was easy !
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
As often is the case…the “word” that beckoned came at dawn,
and, as the slave this made of me…I rose to heed its call.
The early morn intruder that aroused me from my sleep
was begging for appeasement from the room just down the hall.
Self rebuked and chastised for the many times I’d lain
and disregarded - recklessly - the little voice I’d heard,
I stumbled down the hallway, and I slid into my chair,
then cracked my knuckles wide awake, and pounded out the word.
The uninvited word…that found its way into my head.
The alphabetic prowler who’d intruded on my dream.
The tiny bunch of letters that would disrespect my sleep,
and join - without permission - my creative writing team.
Ordinary? Yes! But tiny universes dwell
in certain words and phrases we all use from day to day.
And…as a poet…I’m inclined to meld these little bits
to cast the clear and simple “desperate truths” I mean to say.
Every language has them. They are common…and routine.
They’re easy to pronounce…and understood by one and all.
And I will always ply my trade in verse with “simple terms,”
to forge my gems of wisdom, in the room just down the hall.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 11:31 AM UTC
When legend created the world first came the question
Light or dark separated by the words, underlying meaning of things
Expressed in alphabetic notation always
Speaks with an accent, the fluidity of form
Inexpressible uncontainable strangeness
The leaf is a breath, food, healing and shade
You are not me and I am not you yet shadows of each other
Before the judgement comes it is, you are
I am, interchanged yet our own entities
No ultimate meaning beyond what one makes
Of this mess, snake's curious devastating boredom
Livelihood could be achieved or inspired
By something beyond,
Or lived without, in opaque dusk of utter meaninglessness
So I leave it up to the forces in charge
Spectator by nature
I rationalize what does not fall into place
You don't, now run, I am about to say it
Ambiguity!
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
Things aren’t where I put them anymore.
I so carefully write down where they belong
And place them neatly in their spot
But when I later reach for them
The spot is gone and so are they.
I stand embarrassed at the desk-
The meeting is next week and not today.
But this morning when I read my notes
It just said One O’clock and don’t be late.
I made an extra trip to get there.
How could I have missed the date.
If I had canceled as I’d planned,
They would have told me not today
And saved me driving across town
To end up crying in the car.
A and B are not connecting lately-
The thoughts that ought to follow on
Stay self contained and singular.
They never meet across the void
To form cohesion and make sense.
My best view is aftersight.
I see too late had I done this
It would have saved me doing that.
Double trips become the norm.
My cheek is sore from slapping it.
The little errors multiply
Until they form an oversite
And grow to a catastrophe
That coping cannot remedy
And there’s no way around it.
The dictionary lists all words
In alphabetic order.
My mental warehouse stacks them up
Behind a bunch of useless facts
In places I can’t find them.
The names of places and old friends
Are locked up in the topmost cupboards
And everyone will have to wait
Until I climb a sturdy stool
And search around to find them.
One by one these glitches have no meaning.
Two-by-two, it’s just a stressful week
But three or four and every day
Portends a black fog rolling in
And I’m searching for a place to hide.
ljm
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 2:29 AM UTC