Origins [dcb's old poetry collective]

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Repetition

How lovely,
how strong,
how boring it is!

Repeated words over and over
again like the cliches of darkness
and love in the world.

Butterflies and grasshoppers never
stop coming to the insect world.

The blazing rays
of the sun on the
[angelic] clouds
continue to appear ...
every single, solitary day.

Nothing --
nothing -- will
ever stop repetition from coming;
it is a natural process of life
like the wind and the air in the night.

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Rhyme

Oh, the rhyme
with all the time,
the horror-filled moments of life.

Old-day writers
and famous reciters
never had this strife.

The joy of rhyming
with all the timing
forces words out
of my mouth.

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Structure

"Poetry is poetry, even without a proper structure. Some poems can be in a paragraph sort of sense -- I mean, as long as it's good, it can be written any way the writer wishes." Do you wish to know what I say to that? Bah! nonsense, this is! Poetry is structured. By line breaks, you ask? No, no, no: poetry is structured by form and metaphor, for it is the soul of artists. Line breaks, the lot may know, do have part of helping in the form of a poem. But, as some say "Poetry is poetry, even without a proper structure. As long as it's good, it doesn't matter, the form."

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Cliches

Hope, love, and angst
are all of the cliched themes
of a modern day poem.

The rose cuts
my crimson blood and the
life of me is crying for freedom,
freedom for my soul to be free.

Hope, love, and angst,
ah, the horror-filled moments
of them there cliches.

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Alliteration

Super sweet sounds
working with each other
to create silly little patterns
align in the first few lines
of the [perfect] parchment.

Alliteration acts as
a barrier between
the real words of the
[pretty little] poem.

So, a writer thinks that
they can write without
worrying about the
consequences that come
with all alliteration, but
between their paper and pen
are words that have no effect
to their audience.

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Little Sue Golden Jurip de Sun
Always had a lot of fun
She'd play with her hair
Without any care
Then she'd start eating some hamburger buns

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Dun
blades grow
o'er the skies
next to the dark
forest that slumbers
as crickets are latent.
The trees grow tall like the clouds
on a clear, summer vacation
next to the pure reflective waters.
The winds send messages for the brothers.

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Blue
colors splash
on my heart
that was painted
the true color of
love

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Deck the streets with speeding cars
(And put a few bright lights here and there)
Look! the earth's invading Mars!
(Killing off the aliens' i-tunes)
Trains aren't riding on the tracks
(It creates destructive holidays)
Everyone shall now play jacks
(Poking out their eyes in boredom)

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Cold

Have a cold and no achoo?
Here's a box of snuffles for you.

I guess you could say that coughing's alright,
but what'll you do when you're coughing out lights?

Sneezing is the way to go,
so go get a tissue ... and blow!

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Clouds
swirl in
the powerful sky,
eclipsing the force
of the bright rays.

Rain
falls
heavily onto
the ever-rising oceans.
Waterfalls
are being poured
into the land
of sinners
and dreamers.

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Full Moon

Mounting high
in the amethyst sky,
it's an eclipser of the sun's rays.

Always appearing - hanging - in the night's own gaze,
changing immeasurably in so many ways,
it seems to disappear all, too, soon --

you'll ponder it at noon...
that full moon.

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Cell Phones

Ringing
Talking
Laughing
Singing
Talking along the blue, ringing sea
Laughing and singing with mighty glee

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I Sold My Soul

Things around me seem to
happen when I am blue and cold.
My blackened soul, I sold
to the devils for golden days.
Why is my life this way!
Why can't I see a ray of peace!
I just wish it would cease,
so I can, yet, increase my view.