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Ms. Quoting a Diddly

Miss Quoting rode a pony,
that was too small
for her fat fanny.
It seems her legs
were a bit wobbly,
and she was eventually
put into retirement.
I know it is true because,
I myself have
visited her once or twice.

Ms. Quoting met with ignorance,
a friend of mine to whom college was attending.
Punctuation was a problem in her behavior.
So she was sentenced
to a life of ill-repute.
I received the impression
that english was not her language,
and she was literally challenged.

poem by Patricia Dobrosipearson
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The Comfort of Obscurity

INSPIRED BY READING MR. KIPLING'S POEMS AS
PRINTED IN THE NEW YORK PAPERS

Though earnest and industrious,
I still am unillustrious;
No papers empty purses
Printing verses
Such as mine.

No lack of fame is chronicker
Than that about my monicker;
My verse is never cabled
At a fabled
Rate per line.

Still though the Halls
Of Literature are closed
To me a bard obscure I
Have a consolation The
Copyreaders crude and rough

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poem by Franklin P. Adams
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My Blood, My Poem

So many works of my life
I dodge to write these verses
So much time I spend behind
Every couplet, every epithet sucks
A little dropp of my blood
Every letter sheds sweet from my ducks
Every line steals my sweet sleep
Every phrase is my dream and hope
I breathe in every word
Every punctuation dips in deep emotions
If it does not work and effects the heart
For whom these are composed
The masculinity of this poet is crushed
The stone heart of mine cries through eyes
Tears roll down, my blood is worthless! !

poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Dark Side of the Coin

“‘Space, the bound of a solid’: Silence, then, the form of a melody.” - Alice Meynell

I surrender Myself to the dark.

Disappearing in the consummate blackness,
I send up a non-thought to Absolute Silence,
All spaces and the in-between –
To unfathomable frontiers.

I fall down on my knees before the
Celestial sculptors of Reality:
Space, Silence and the in-between;

Their punctuation of Experience
Makes a dwelling place for Dreams
Just as Silence composes a symphony,
Shapes the course of its melody –

Praise nihility!

poem by Danielle Moffat
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The Dark Side of the Coin

“‘Space, the bound of a solid’: Silence, then, the form of a melody.” - Alice Meynell

I surrender Myself to the dark.

Disappearing in the consummate blackness,
I send up a non-thought to Absolute Silence,
All spaces and the in-between –
To unfathomable frontiers.

I fall down on my knees before the
Celestial sculptors of Reality:
Space, Silence and the in-between;

Their punctuation of Experience
Makes a dwelling place for Dreams
Just as Silence composes a symphony,
Shapes the course of its melody –

Praise nihility!

poem by Danielle Moffat
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Emote One Day

when the heart speaks there is
no period it goes on loving without any room for
questioning it is like a dance where a punctuation is out of place always
arabesque
a twist
that art of tossing a spirit and falling down after
that moment when you talk to yourself because you need to unload a burden
like unleashing a dog captive to its house and master like a rain falling heavily on your roof without any colon like a surge of grief without a comma
like bliss that needs no
interjection like a cadena de amor with a dash
or something

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Go Away!

A gathering came together
To compose a message.
The contents of it were very clear.
When he received it...
He did not approve of the punctuation.
He sent it back,
With his own message attached.

'Let there be no mistake,
I am responsible for my irresponsibility.
If I can admit that...
At least you can come up with a better way
To make me understand
Why...
And I want this with more clarity!
'WHY? ' do you insist on bothering me,
With your petty ways of misunderstanding
My dysfunctions?
I made that clear from the onset!
Now leave me alone

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With Precision

As all my words weave themselves together,
Every verse arrives on the scene.
Furnished and burnished to such perfection,
With punctuation in between.

Stories that are really a knock-out,
Lines flowing easily on course,
Could all these writes be worth shouting about,
Appearing from a well known source.

I try with precision to set their shape,
Appeal, in each poem to find.
Poetry that everyone can enjoy,
Things that can so surely spellbind.

These woven pieces are a joy to mould,
And when they’re finally complete.
A warm feeling enters my aging heart,
And so, I find a fresh blank sheet.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Away From The Home

Non-thinking was a tremendous effort,
I scratched the years one by one.
Between you and me was a river,
it has gone now.
Are you beyond the imagination?
My eyelids bleed,
and there is a painful punctuation.

Give me fireflies,
it is too dark here.
The future tense,
is not relevant now.
Present is very tense.
Books fail to open the lyrics.
I am lonely in the prints.
Life makes a big leap
for the sake of splash.

I place the candles in the wind,
away from the home,

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poem by Satish Verma
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Left The Body To Watch

In the ending, there was beginning of fear
of unknown.
The pain of malignity,
evil punctuation of
a serene landscape.
Life moved from one landmark
to another in alien waste.
I shuddered in a patch of sun.

The impulse was very strong to find out the answer
I was violated by many questions.
Words could not tell,
migrated back to their scriptures.
Time altered the names
of fear & death.
Waiting grew into self-knowledge.

Like pleated oxygen mask
life gave me a bump.
Saddened, I played the mutation game.

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poem by Satish Verma
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