RLW
Speaking the truth with love....and rhyme. :) RLW = RhymeLovingWriter (AKA a lady from the wheat fields of KS) rhymelovingwriter.com
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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The Goldenest Rule

If wizzles were snizzles and sniffles were snu,

remembring disembling could crucify you.

Right off with your headers from youlder to yawl,

conundrumming slumbering dally-ma-dawl.

Your sigh at the sight of the sniggling snoud

(those pointers who jointedly sniggle out loud)

would freezingly fry every inchy blood blue,

confoundingly pounding most tempest review.

Tough hangingly banging, behindedly left,

for sinnerly winners, woe-gonely bereft,

no solacing somberment, salvingly spread

could smather the lather of dumb numbing dread.

But then! in the stinklingest inkling around,

your off-headed dreadies warp wildly, unwound

flat out at a speed, seeding dust in the wind,

while sigh-sounding cruciform grudgingly grinned.

Last word-stuttered utter on pawllish parade,

“Surcease such secreting of wizz-snizzled splay!”

The course moralled madly must babblingly be:

Do tutu allothers as theydo to me.

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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The Goldenest Rule


If wizzles were snizzles and sniffles were snu,
remembring disembling could crucify you.
Right off with your headers from youlder to yawl,
conundrumming slumbering dally-ma-dawl.

Your sigh at the sight of the sniggling snoud
(those pointers who jointedly sniggle out loud)
would freezingly fry every inchy blood blue,
confoundingly pounding most tempest review.

Tough hangingly banging, behindedly left,
for sinnerly winners, woe-gonely bereft,
no solacing somberment, salvingly spread
could smather the lather of dumb numbing dread.

But then! in the stinklingest inkling around,
your off-headed dreadies warp wildly, unwound
flat out at a speed, seeding dust in the wind,
while sigh-sounding cruciform grudgingly grinned.

Last word-stuttered utter on pawllish parade,
“Surcease such secreting of wizz-snizzled splay!”
The course moralled madly must babblingly be:
Do tutu allothers as theydo to me.

12
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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Anniversaries

to touch your sweet soft hair again,

to breathe in toddler smiles with sighs

when giggle-prompted peek-a-boo

was height of hope in Grandma’s eyes.

another year ticked slow away

among a nine-span now been braved,

for memories clung fast with hope

still surface, past the body graved.

this little soul who waits beyond

to welcome us – in hope, believe

with joy, this face again we’ll kiss,

no more to wait, no more to grieve.

hold melancholy not, as fruit

of life event each man must face

instead, perchance, rise higher on

to render love, and joy embrace.

while saints commune from heaven’s side

on earth, ‘mid pilgrims bended knees

keep faith, with hope in love abide

these three, sweet balm to pain surcease

a smile, for Landon, shared today

for all who mourn in sorrowed wake

along with toast for brighter days

when sprited step replaces ache

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Anniversaries

to touch your sweet soft hair again,
to breathe in toddler smiles with sighs
when giggle-prompted peek-a-boo
was height of hope in Grandma’s eyes.
another year ticked slow away
among a nine-span now been braved,
for memories clung fast with hope
still surface, past the body graved.
this little soul who waits beyond
to welcome us – in hope, believe
with joy, this face again we’ll kiss,
no more to wait, no more to grieve.
hold melancholy not, as fruit
of life event each man must face
instead, perchance, rise higher on
to render love, and joy embrace.

while saints commune from heaven’s side
on earth, ‘mid pilgrims bended knees
keep faith, with hope in love abide
these three, sweet balm to pain surcease
a smile, for Landon, shared today
for all who mourn in sorrowed wake
along with toast for brighter days
when sprited step replaces ache

#grief  #hope  #remembering  #Landon 
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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Bright and Shiny

new, or new to you

square one, stepped upon

gold bricked Ozzy road,

we goad each other

kind to kindred kind

to mold elusive

satisfaction’s glow

with words. one more show

of hands for muses

melodramatic

cue. memory fades

yet ever new comes

fancy’s fondled feat,

to seat itself quite

squarely for review.

joy-jumped or jittered

while poetic bug

digs deeper into

off-tossed matters flue.

smallest embers burn

beneath the old made

new, or new to you

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Bright and Shiny


new, or new to you
square one, stepped upon
gold bricked Ozzy road,
we goad each other
kind to kindred kind
to mold elusive
satisfaction’s glow
with words. one more show
of hands for muses
melodramatic
cue. memory fades
yet ever new comes
fancy’s fondled feat,
to seat itself quite
squarely for review.
joy-jumped or jittered
while poetic bug
digs deeper into
off-tossed matters flue.
smallest embers burn
beneath the old made
new, or new to you
#poetry  #inspiration  #roundabout  #offrhyme 
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Written by RLW in portal Romance & Erotica

Man -- in the Moon

I drink you in

your skin and muscled bones

advance attention every

second in my sight

your lips, not pursed but parsed

with pouted pleasure

just the sweetest

shade of pink

I think

then stop such cerebral-ic nonsense as

my pulse pounds louder than

bold breakers on sweet shores

we’ve yet to wander, toe to toe

beneath the stars and sheets

of long-lived years

re-cognition

chorded, kindled, and caressed

our best

is yet to come

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Written by RLW in portal Romance & Erotica
Man -- in the Moon
I drink you in

your skin and muscled bones
advance attention every
second in my sight

your lips, not pursed but parsed
with pouted pleasure
just the sweetest
shade of pink

I think
then stop such cerebral-ic nonsense as
my pulse pounds louder than
bold breakers on sweet shores
we’ve yet to wander, toe to toe
beneath the stars and sheets
of long-lived years

re-cognition
chorded, kindled, and caressed

our best
is yet to come
#romance  #heart  #wonder  #truelove 
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Continuing with cloudyvision23's original challenge to passionately write about a food, this time choose a dessert, write a descriptive poem, then tag another Proser to continue the challenge. Please also tag me @ruffmiriam in the comments, as well as previous writers of this prompt, so we can all read the final result.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Just Des(s)erts

I’m prompted now to ponder food for thought

(specifically the after-dinner kind).

In speaking to this challenge as I ought;

uncertain which confections I will find.

For cakes and cookies, pie and torte alike

with added creamy elements or goo,

each mention brings an insulan-ic spike,

administering a sugar coma cue.

“The creamier the better,” some would say

to pudding, flan, or fluffy mousse-filled bowl.

Still others merely want to have their way

with dripping, caramel-ed, chocolate as a whole.

Sweet honey on the baklava will smack

the lips of those who venture down this way.

While bourbon balls a yummy liquor pack!

(there’s root beer floats to send the kiddies way)

Tiramisu to top off pasta feast –

or home-made soft-set churned from freshest cream;

too often if you soothe this sweet-tooth beast

clear evidence may show in bursting seams.

Seek ever after pie with flaky crust

or fluffy phyllo layered thick to burst.

I stake the claim that all des(s)erts are just

and everyone ought seek to eat them first!

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Continuing with cloudyvision23's original challenge to passionately write about a food, this time choose a dessert, write a descriptive poem, then tag another Proser to continue the challenge. Please also tag me @ruffmiriam in the comments, as well as previous writers of this prompt, so we can all read the final result.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Just Des(s)erts


I’m prompted now to ponder food for thought
(specifically the after-dinner kind).
In speaking to this challenge as I ought;
uncertain which confections I will find.

For cakes and cookies, pie and torte alike
with added creamy elements or goo,
each mention brings an insulan-ic spike,
administering a sugar coma cue.

“The creamier the better,” some would say
to pudding, flan, or fluffy mousse-filled bowl.
Still others merely want to have their way
with dripping, caramel-ed, chocolate as a whole.

Sweet honey on the baklava will smack
the lips of those who venture down this way.
While bourbon balls a yummy liquor pack!
(there’s root beer floats to send the kiddies way)

Tiramisu to top off pasta feast –
or home-made soft-set churned from freshest cream;
too often if you soothe this sweet-tooth beast
clear evidence may show in bursting seams.

Seek ever after pie with flaky crust
or fluffy phyllo layered thick to burst.
I stake the claim that all des(s)erts are just
and everyone ought seek to eat them first!

10
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8
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Written by RLW in portal Micropoetry

Adage of the Day – A

Attitude, against all odds,

attempts an

act

of artiste,

articulately abled.

Not sure this is exactly true...but perhaps close enough for hand grenades or horseshoes?

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Written by RLW in portal Micropoetry
Adage of the Day – A
Attitude, against all odds,
attempts an
act
of artiste,
articulately abled.


Not sure this is exactly true...but perhaps close enough for hand grenades or horseshoes?
#alphabetadages  #73137formcount 
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Written by RLW in portal Micropoetry

Adage of the Day - W

Wisdom, I wouldn’t wonder,

is when you

work

instead of

wile away time with wishing.

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Written by RLW in portal Micropoetry
Adage of the Day - W


Wisdom, I wouldn’t wonder,
is when you
work
instead of
wile away time with wishing.

#alphabetadages  #73137formcount 
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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Breakthrough

hammered up against a wall

loosened from a thought-bound skull

poured-out gloss from full-stop found

throttled, bottled, bent or bound

trickled, dripping, oozed or poured

phrases penned from life absorbed

deep end dives tossed meek aside

raindrop lashed or sunshine dried

mythic, epic, gross or small

creatured comforts’ faded thrall

fodder, doddered off each plank

timely mastered – still it stank

marinaded sweet perfume

married to a nom de plume

qualitied with standard set

much too late – for faux regret

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Breakthrough


hammered up against a wall
loosened from a thought-bound skull
poured-out gloss from full-stop found
throttled, bottled, bent or bound

trickled, dripping, oozed or poured
phrases penned from life absorbed
deep end dives tossed meek aside
raindrop lashed or sunshine dried

mythic, epic, gross or small
creatured comforts’ faded thrall
fodder, doddered off each plank
timely mastered – still it stank

marinaded sweet perfume
married to a nom de plume
qualitied with standard set
much too late – for faux regret



#backtorhyme  #greasingtheskids 
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Written by RLW in portal Religion

Niggling (Senryu)

He niggled me. I

niggled you. We both bit. The

rest is history.

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Written by RLW in portal Religion
Niggling (Senryu)

He niggled me. I
niggled you. We both bit. The
rest is history.
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Written by RLW in portal Stream of Consciousness

March

Quietest of creatures was Miranda. Wrapped

each day in fairy-tale living, each night in token

giving, little seemed to grow in such a soul. Her

whole being deemed dependent on moves of

those surrounding. Their bounded noise and friction

wore away what little had existed from her start.

Shaping heart to merest token, would such trap

be broken into or abolished by minuscule responses

meted out in mousy range? Rules change, and did

so. Who could know the moment when the lamb

became the lion? Only bloodied half-remains spoke

witness to the wear. It’s rare to make compare

or ponder straights in wildest reconfigure. All that

waits in simple hearts is key to turn to stone.

--------------

This is my first attempt at prose poetry. I'm not sure if this is the final title. Critical feedback welcomed. TY.

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Written by RLW in portal Stream of Consciousness
March


Quietest of creatures was Miranda. Wrapped
each day in fairy-tale living, each night in token
giving, little seemed to grow in such a soul. Her
whole being deemed dependent on moves of
those surrounding. Their bounded noise and friction
wore away what little had existed from her start.
Shaping heart to merest token, would such trap
be broken into or abolished by minuscule responses
meted out in mousy range? Rules change, and did
so. Who could know the moment when the lamb
became the lion? Only bloodied half-remains spoke
witness to the wear. It’s rare to make compare
or ponder straights in wildest reconfigure. All that
waits in simple hearts is key to turn to stone.


--------------
This is my first attempt at prose poetry. I'm not sure if this is the final title. Critical feedback welcomed. TY.

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