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This           is             not
A po          em           But
rather       a cha        lange
For             you            to
Write.     A poem      about
The sh    ape that       you see.
What oddity, unusual deformity do you see inYour precious minds eye?
               A castle?
                A cloud?
               A hand or
               A heart?
Write a poem about the shape that you see above and please include #shapepoem in the tag.
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
Dancing on the lifeline,
Flying through the dirt,
Mixing into puddles,
Resembling the sky...

Everything is nothing.
Nothing is everything.
The truth is but a lie
Not looked in the eye.
The spoiled goods we buy!

Dancing on the lifeline,
Spinning dervish, spin.
Aquire all the knowledge you seek,
Find it is within.

Poets are the prophets
To the souls of those that read.
The magick that is in the verses
Always plants a seed
To enlightenment, the need.

We are all
Dancing on the lineline,
Connected by the threads,
That comprise the ribbons
Of the thoughts within our heads.

Everything for which we thirst
Is already in our chalice.
We only need to drink of it,
But need to keep the balance...
Beware the one called valiant.

Never fear that victor,
Who has never seen a challange,
Who has been given everything
On a silver platter.

Listen to the hope inside.
Follow it, as you lead.
As you cast your spells
And spin your webs, take heed.

Dancing on your lifeline,
Holding onto what is true.
Only when you care for others,
Will you know they care for you.
This Poem shares the title of a conceptual collection of poetry I wrote  back in 1997.
David Nelson Jul 2013
Eratic Plastic Dysphemistic Euphemisms

the rain in Spain
falls mainly on the plain
while the dome in Rome
is a place to call home
and the gazoot in Beirut
is in cahoot
with the Neo in Reo
and his brother Theo
and Levi in Shanghai
munches blueberry pie
the roast on the coast
has been burnt like the toast
and my frog on the log
barks like a dog
its a pity how gritty
it is in ** Chi Minh City
never challange Mr Wong to play ping pong
in Hong Kong
or smoke a bowl with a mole
in old town Seoul
or the gendarme will storm
the crowd in Pittsburgh

Gomer LePoet...
I"M BORED lol
Jamie King Jan 2015
The well of inspiration, the whisperer of words of wisdom washing away woes and wounds of wallowing men and women.

She imbues lost and broken hearts, with bliss not a drop of ink is waisted as her skill is demonstrated.

Passionate and proud, we ponder after she writes. She's the master of imagery and the Queen of Poetry.
To Deborah Brooks the best of the best.
Poetic T Aug 2014
The stars are a magic of light
They hide the truth in
Plain sight
The universe tricks our
Very eyes
Misleading what is perceived
Light
Darkness
Sound
The moon our guiding light
It shines Above,
But reflects the light from
Another source
Sun light
The universe is a magical place
Wonders for
Touch
Sight
Our senses on a galactic overload
There is magic
In the very heavens tonight.
mads Jan 2016
hello,
right now i have renovated this hello poem,
a hefty amount of times,
with the hearty intent,
to get this hellish hunk of hello poem of my heavy tongue.

hello,
hardly have i crafted a poem,
i have instead handwoven a handy distraction from the whole point.

hello,
all of the half-decent "h" sounding alliteration words have horribly,
been wasted on his half-assed poem.
having ruined the word 'hello' and any horrid word with similarities,
in the phonetics or what have you,
i end this poem here.
and i end this hallowed hell of this poem in high regards to you.
day one // write a poem about hellos (pretty dumb but i wanted to write)
David Nelson Sep 2011
Punk Sandwich

there he is walking down the street
slicked back hair and a thin mustache
high rise collar on his button down shirt
sparkle in his eye and always talkin trash

he loved his Italian beef on pumpernickel rye
he loved his mama and his brothers too
he wasn't your ordinary everyday punk
there was more and you knew he knew

fear for him does not exist or so he claims
quicker than a bolting flash of light
behind you with a jagged edge of blade
he is no one to challenge to a fight

he has connections to all the right ones
the ones you need to know for security
or to make some annoyance disappear
his word is golden shinning with a purety

a perfect friend intelligent curteous and brave
but these can all change to weapons of death
if you are so disposed to challange his way
it just might be your very last breath

after dropping you in a pool of disguise
he will tip his fadora with playful grace
back on his brow and cigarella between his lips
and that same old smirk upon his face
  
Gomer LePoet...
Lexi Dvorak Oct 2014
As I reflect on my past,
I realize many things have passed.

Flowers have bloomed,
Yet I can't ever "find the room",
To watch them as they bloom.

People have graced me,
With their beautiful personalities,
And yet I never find the time,
To allow their personalities to overwhelm me.

I wish I could reflect on my past
And say many good times have passed,
But sadly there is more good then there is bad,
I wish there was more happy then there is sad.

But alas I cannot change where my pieces have landed,
But I can't fix my past either,
So I shall allow the past to remain in the past.

So if you ask me to reflect,
I will not reflect but honestly say,
The past is just another fallen day.
DC raw love Jan 2015
I've read 1000 upon 1000 of poems
Where I see not many write about God

I challenge you all, to write about God.

In your own words and you can scream it out loud

In the beginning

It started with Adam and Eve.
There was then Noah, follewed by Moses.

They have,
Psalm,
Proverb's,
Ecclesiates,
Songs of Solomon
Is poetry about life

Along with the rest of the old testament

Disciple's,
Apostle's,
Major and Minor Prophet's
Along with the history of God

Now to the new testament
Where we have the following

Letters to the church
Along with the gospals
Where Jesus speaks to you
And you see how he lived
With his words of silence

Now we have Revalations
What a strange place
So many creatures
That will **** the human race

Me, I'm by far not Godly
I curse and I sin
I desire flesh of women
But I try to live his ways

I know many things
About our God
I do read the bible
And sometimes out loud

Yes, I have been reborn
Still figuring it out

But I'm one of God's creatures
And that's without a doubt
If someone can help I do not know how to get it to a site were these challenges go to
Mahesh Hegde Jan 2014
Its late at night,
The most Awaiting dream comes to life,
My Heart in the space now wanders,
To feel the creator's wonders,
About the rays of light it ponders,
Origin of the universe it envies,
Treading is it to the planet of rubies,
Our GREAT GRANDFATHER, THE BIG BANG, has a highest record of Babies.
Meteros paas by around,
But they cannot hit me,
I am like a shadow here,
Everything passes through me as If I am smoke.
Hey I think I see a rainbow here,
Its a bit different in shape,
Long and wide straight stripes covering a million kilometers of the same seven colors.
I travel through black holes,
Saying, "Hey Mr. Black, You can destroy physical bodies, Try to challange this pure soul,
I have come up with some shortcuts here too, LOL,
How peaceful here the life is,
No rise and No fall,
I look at the nebula,
like, would look, billions of earth's clouds,
but painted in different colors,
The vaccum out here is so hypnotic,
A normal human would become psychotic,
Gravity here in empty pulls uniformly all over my body,
But its gentle while the pull preventing to rip me to pieces,
And then theres a road of white light which leads beyond,
But white is leading to black, this feeling's so sound.
Many small planets are arranged around it to give a bridge like effect,
Does this bridge lead to the ultimate energy,
The ultimate truth as the mortals of the earth say..
I take a step forward to commence the final journey after plenty,
Conjuring all the memories of my life to feel eternity.
As I reach the end in front of me is a small particle placed on a slab,
And the strongest of microscope above it to make it visible.
I turn around to look far away the glistening galaxies
Confined in an arrangement like nerves of a brain,
I give a smile to all my beloved,
And then touch the microsope,
It ****** me in,
And I got shooted from its otherside,
To be absorbed by particle and never to seperate.
"Hey Moksha, Wassup..?"
LH2012 May 2010
impartial to war
i try to keep peace
motives still alive
i will survive

enemies don't help
as hard as they try
the sky is dark
clouds heavy tonight

i run like the wind
war close at hand
to escape from the wrath
i need to defend

i fight for the truth
keep safe all in sight
my entorage close
i leap for the fight

spreading so far
we fight in disperse
i'm running in anger
down mountains of bone

blood flowing thick
i hold nothing back
the full blow of fury
headed straight for the top

in mud caked clothes
the blood is stained thick
a sword in my right hand
dagger at left

archers fire in anger
i dodge behind rocks
they hit me in double
i ignore the shock

running now screaming
the serpent sees me
i spring for the ****
blade ready to run through

sword clashes ring
across hills and valleys
we stop in horror
a moment of silence

then blood all about
we challange each other
winner shall live
do as they wish

the looser will die
in bad honor at that
they die cold and still
on flat rocks of stone

clinking at first
we warm up the tension
the swords are flying
death drawing us in

the skill is high
you can't see it all
a blade here now
in one second gone

keep your eyes keen
to see the quick end
shoulder, leg, arm
slices death blowing

still not over
we fight until finaly
i stab the heart
his face melts in death

the fight below
turns into fleeing
we won the war
all tired and steaming

the casualty rate
is high on our side
2000 souls gone
of my 5000 here

the saddness goes on
never to end
home bound we go
leaving all wrath behind

home once at last
good conquered evil
we went for a fight
came back with no evil
©LH2012
CJ M Jul 2015
None shall cherish what was never meant to be,
none shall challange what was and what has come.
None of my lovers have ever loved me,
and I'm in a pit of lonely I can't escape from.

I was once a more free soul, only concerned about what I was ding and where I was going, but then my paradaigm was  shifted. Luckily, I leapt out of bordom and made personality my mistress, bending her to my will and following her as she lead me through the section of my life where I needed her most.
But it all changed.
It was al taken away without a goodbye or even a subtle wave of longing. I was lonely again, stabbed in the heart, left lifeless as if I were a physically dead body.
What once took over me as a feeling of annoyedness with the public has forced a want out of me, a hunger for their attention. And I'm sad to say that that hunger has fueled many a regretted act.
vent to me, a poem to you, random word structure to those who couldn't care. They'll never cherish my words, never try to feel where I come from, and I wish that they might.
But alas, you can't capture everyone, so I stay close to home, praying that those who can understand me continue backing me with the love, the love I'll always continue to be thankful for, the love I'll always

Cherish.
Mahesh Hegde Jan 2014
At some moments I wish to extend time beyond limits,
And at times to continue a moment for a lifetime.
Time can give scars, destroy and steal,
But also has the ability to provide, protect and heal.
Time teaches to be honest and truthful,
Also, if required, to be arrogant and cruel.
It has the strength of doing componendo-dividendo with pain and happiness,
And it also brings with it, complications or simplicity for life.
Time isnt always rude, it shows us the correct path of our destiny,
But we are, instead of understanding, we ignore.
None of the most precious things can buy time,
But time has its choice of picking up anything.
Dont challange time which has the prowess of changing the dark night into a beautiful sunrise,
Also the change of seasons from summer to winter and vice-versa which it does with life too.
Afterall time has its own mysteries,
Its sometimes short with long talks,
and sometimes long with short walks..
Take difficulties as a challange
never as a sorrow
Share with others with zeal
never with gloom and
Play with children
Always to bloom
Lead the team with big theme
never for a selfish regime
Give others as if it were theirs
never to expect something favours
On festivals record your presences
never try for lame pretentions
Go slow with firm determinations
never fall to false appreciations
Guide right to even opponents
never try take them with cruel hands
Try to learn in an easy way
never go for it in a crazy way
That is a nice red carpet
where you lead n hope better result
Angela Oct 2010
The shadows call me to the dark
I hear a cat scream and the big dog bark
It is bright as summer but, cold from the rain
Slowly I unravel ...embrace the insane
You always try to save me
you think I'm going to fall
If you only knew
I dread to hear the call
I walk from within the shadows
and down the lonely block
Hear the birdies singing
watch the lady breathing
Wonder why we are really here at all
You always try to save me
hold me and constrain me
There is no way to tame me
Just let me be myself
And this we will remember
when the storms of this september
shimmer to an ember
And we place it on a shelve
and continue into winter
Holding on and dreaming
of summer's distance embrace
the tint of your sunkissed face
And the shadows that challenge my grace
The darkness that lerks beneath
There can not be a repeat
For there's nothing there to beat
And I will never claim defeat
You always try to save me
Love me and obey me
Take my heart and warm it
Grab my hand and hold it
Don't let go...oh, don't you dare
You know I am here...You know that I care
The shadows they call to me
but, theres no fear I wish you'd see
It's just a place I sometimes go
To toughen the spirit and challange the soul
Chaz Kirshcmann Dec 2013
Im gone
turn me around
succumbed to pomposity
all i think about is success city

life is just a challange
gift from him
i am him
ya
thats right
its all me

give till im dead
thats my plea
hate seeing species hate
im here for progression

whats up with this fake?
replace fear with a blunt
i like it raw
reality is how i draw
any canvas i want to unfold
hold, make glow, and show to every inch of mind in the scene
planet earth is what i mean,
thats the lives.
Melaina Oct 2013
i've been longing for a body which                 could never have kept me warm.
    Reaching arms stretched above my frame catching far-flung reality
   Active against this claiming, taken over by this divine will.
The thought of these verse's and vices.                                            
    My pipe dream of complete armistice .                                          
I had not known of its falsity  , only of my craving for shared naked truth  
    After a radical soul with a particular     Glimpse into lifes inner working.    
      Able to travel and willing to leave.
Trying hard to play catch'up, but unable to find the real me.
Long after running away from the bad , life got a little easy.
     Found a new challange that highlighted all of my dreams.
  Finally able to communicate because I'm in touch with me.
Something I wrote about 4 months ago, a quick write .
Run
We can run through the race or walk you can be by me or challange me my heart dont care anyway im here by your side or against you baby what do you choose run through the race or walk by me do you wanna win the medal of gold or do you wanna win my heart baby we can run but im hurt you still wanna run or walk by me choose my heart or the crouds well its up to you and the clocks ticking whos heart is it want the medal or my heart

One second you here now your not you've choosen them over me thats ok though im still here.
Help me make more poems
Give me ideas
Thanks I AM EE for supporting me
S A Marshal Feb 2021
The Verge
S. A. Marshal
15 Jan, 2021

Hey! Look, it's me!
Not at verge
nor for your mercy,
and certainly not at urge.
I too dream
a presidential hope.
To ideate a creation
from deep kaleidoscope.
From within my ingenuity,
I colour the skies of Aurora.
I know how far I can go
to challange the Zeus'  Pandora.

Look! It’s me,
not a roadside verge.
You may think to
not to merge.
For I too think
no life in you.
To create a stanza,
for rhythmic tempo
needs to beat a super-hit,
but it cannot be the you,
so off you go, shoo shoo.

And hey, it’s me!
Not at verge
but about to center
a time of surge.
Where you'll see
chants of my people.
My pride-vibrant in glory of ripples.
Lights and flashes,
stages that sounds
to see of my last
at Turin another shroud.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
am i being an *******, am i, maybe?!
                     before the real polemics begins...
i have to deal with these little
shitlords in the comments...
                    plague: the sefiroth lifted to the heavens,
castrated and told to sing: give me
my idle hands for the devil to do much more
than this...

based upon a reflex:
   concerning

thank "god" / "luck" my alter-ego
Conrad von Heiligkreuz is not getting a welcome
reception elsewhere...

my-poetic-side...
            only a 2nd poem in and i'm "told"
to shut up...
         happy to conclude a revived jazz binge...

i once had a friendship...
which lasted to the point of hearing:
it's word salad... sorry, what?
i do know the lexicon of psychiatry...
perhaps your sister is a genetic oddity...
but i'm hardly the "spezial needs"
culprit... the royal family are paid for by
taxpayers' money...
they are grifters of pomp and circumstance...

not that i'm waiting for ol' lizzie to die...
but if i had suicidal tendencies...
i'd wait this one out...
a pope dies... a knee bother...
but the queen of england?
the lineage running from edward
the confessor?! ****! i'll have to be around
for that one... when ol' charlie
gets his face into print
on that new spastic fantastic grit of
plastic... paupers' paper...
hardly a square mile of a proper... wipe...
one's ****...

         i'm waiting for lizzie to drop
at the gallows...
i had to call her: purple comic sans girls...

rereading... on the offensive...
i am an *******...

purple comic sans girl:
do you feel better having got that lot off your mind. So therapeutic this posting on MPS business isn't it? I imagine you found yourself bored out of your mind before writing that tirade and i hope its been of benefit for you.

Conrad von Heiligkreuz:
blah blah blah blah blah... and some words in between... then again more blah blah blah... wait... is this one of those "safe spaces" i've heard of? you're not going to leave me with a benefit of the doubt, are you? well then... run along... run along... stick to rhymes and rumi, or whatever crap you're into.

he also posted a comment on one of purple comic sans girl's poems:
yep... thanks purple COMIC SANS girl... your comment was more engaging than this poem... sowwy... now get your sycophantic hyenas to focus on me and get me banned... too bad you can't see any constructive criticism... i was going to ask: iz u zee torbewahrerin - some twitter-esque blue checkmark cerberus for this website?! will you be the one to go that one step further and tell me: no lightbulbs for you: no internet access... wipe your *** with your hand and write by candlelight? thanks for the emotions though... i was right in being slow today... low blood pressure... thanks for the emotions... now i can knit them into a bundle, a stone... and throw it into a sea of rhythm. again: i'll just ask your sycophantic hyenas to come knocking... god forbid this site is to be one of those urban myths of "safe spaces": thinking hurts: aaagh! i quiet like the blog section of this site, though... it would be a great shame not to catch up on poetic news... yup.... "friends" / fwends... walking on egg-shells... looks like an echo-chamber to me... this sort of "love" / ******* you see for miles and miles... doesn't anyone these days tire of news as propaganda... and such only ++++ comments? i'm thinking of washing my hands like some o.c.d. golem... and brushing my teeth... see you later purple comic sans girl; thanks for the adrenaline shot.

definitely the pronouns...
that's it... this is not definitely the *******?
first impressions... the churn of emotions...
well there was... nothing exactly... "offensive"...
but i'm that beyond redemption e.g. of
no e.g. to begin with:

         alter-ego alternatively: who's who in third
person - there's always someone missing...
my alter-ego has to write an apology
for her... the aura of hostility is being multiplied...
forever dealing with a genesis story...
to have seen a mountain and the sea...
but this crown... this new-found-tooth:
yet to be a jaw...

i'll make an apology... i'll post her this link...
do i feel better:
what's there to feel better about?
even if i think i'm hardly the optimist desired
to only mind weather forecast prophecies...
over a pint-hour-long-conversation...

this is a reflection... but the reflex is already
a faux pas:
bull sees red... some porcelain gets
shattered on the hoof and snort of wet air...
there's a heart: but there's no glory of it
to be made into splinters of breadcrumbs
when extracted from a tabernackle...

      miasma... miasma...
          and metaphors of miasma...
                    otherwise: this congested traffic air
of plugged horn sections of an orchestra...
                the past or the part where i say:
someone was misunderstood...
someone clearly jumped to conclusions
too early...

       i was going to do something human today...
instead i opted for toying
with a robot that made pizza...
and over-seasoned the pizza sauce with
too much oregano...
           faulty "a.i."... back on the new found
glory wheel of replicas...

cheers! here's a hope to...
when two reflexes meet... spawning two reflections...

the only tragedy of what comes from
borrowed time - or the past -
however irrational the previous "few" were...
they still allowed us to carry through:
the W of a wHEN...
              they allowed us to carry a
H of hOW... and...
                                 there is not rhyme to bargain with...
the cess-pool of feverish breathing...
the insult of exaggeration from the propaganda
news... it's not even fake, as such...
it's just... cold cod and ambers...

                        if they were to be dying with
mushroom-esque sprouts of out-growth from
their foreheads... i'd be deemed the most interested
undertaker...
an apology is necessary... but i only spotted it
having written this "repudiation"...

perhaps that's what her comment was all about...
the hope for a beating heart...
this prospect of feeling...
i can't remember the last time...
anything of thought was worth
a cradle of genius...
or that anything felt was more than
a reflex... hell wouldn't want me to reflect on
certain matters...
hence the faux pas immediacy...

                    i was able to read: but at the same
time i was blinded by a rage that...
allowed me to feed a larynx replaced with
an impossibility of a heart...
and with the heart replaced with a larynx...
⠊       ⠎ ⠏ ⠕ ⠅⠑
                                        ⠃⠇⠊ ⠝ ⠙
no colons or dot dot dot included...
here's to me singing a karaoke in england
with the song: madonna's oh father...

           blind fool blind bid to pray...
if only... those forwarded gesticulations
of phatom were to be a gratification of relief
i were to be seeking...
handshakes with shadows and the dead...
eclipses of multiple suns
and a suitcase of words that cannot cross
borders beside the familiar pain of some later
posthumous translations...

what modern scientific discovery?
the ancients gave me the sound and its subsequent
meaning in how i connect it to
another sound and a subsequent meaning
and craft this umbilical chord...
this tapeworm this foetus of myself of
a future bound to a past...
wrinkles on a page...
a spilled picasso of coffee in some
variant of Rorschach...

                               most of the time i don't want
to be forgiven... to be forgiven is to be immediately
asking for an apology: a futile enterprise...
i'd just like to be understood...
take all the time in the world:
for that to happen... or 'appen...
we're dealing with surds that still retain
a status of a spell-check: you know...

                         there's that impossible moral
of this: anti-story...
         the comments section of an internet...
let me show you the sqm
of what it takes to resolve: a boot... leather belt...
strap... of extending enough of the shaved
hind of the snorkel of a pig in the shambo
of a blood-bath of a slaughterhouse...

                             all the best parts were and will
continue to be used...
               she called it a tirade:
i'm more prone to the self-laceration
of calling it a diatribe...
                         is this what promulgating
self-depreceating humor does to one's coordination
of: "it's at"?
                             this new breed of: there...
               and being...
            perhaps a focus on: that? clingy little shitstorm
of tomorrow's never new...

well...                      that's me...
asking to be forgiven is so futile...
       this clingy originariness of sin... more like:
replica - and... was that the originality of
individuation - the sin being...
the replica... the plagiarism...
                               that "unique perspective"...
the eventual monotheistic intra-personal "god?    
and later the democratic fizzling-out...
the diluted "god" of the... yawn...
inter-personal?
                
          the better half of me has already died
having written this...
the pivot of either half of me that was
ever going to be differentiated as good, or "evil"...
the challange of probing the mediocre...
i would always keep to retaining some
standards of cohesion...
grammar, spelling, arithmetic...

                   the skeleton requesting
a pickled jar of brains...
and some tendons and muscles to coordinate
itself as an early grave-risen:
                           shadow of a mollusk...
circus of words... the meadows of Edinburgh...
the ego as a minotaur...
thought as a labyrinth...

                             and the leftover...
the shop of porcelain...
           and the revised minotaur...
as a sphinx.

— The End —