Where Have You Gone.
What's going on with opuss today. The posts are very very few No one here having their say Surely some more are due....
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The Hard Part
The hardest part of writing poetry Is not making sure it all rhymes. It's not even checking your spelling, Nor being topical with the times.
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"Me"
Inspired by @Delilah ... Although its not quite about me myself. There seems to be An influx of poems About a "me" But who is she. Is she caged. Or is she free. Or is it maybe Even a he.
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A Book of Poetry
I bought a book of poetry,. To fill Opussia's gap, solely,. I read it cover to cover,. About parrots, bananas and lovers,. But it all lacked a certain zest,. I just must conclude that Opuss is best,.
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Just Get On And Write
.......Crack......Fuzzz.....Buzzzz.......
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Morning
Came around this morning, still feeling comatose For I like to sleep at night, as everybody knows Turning on the iPhone, saw a sight to make you weep Maybe I imagined it, eyes still full of sleep No,...
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Opussian Singers.
Come on in the morning, Something's wrong, Where are those people, Singing their song. In those few, short hours, That I was asleep, What exactly happened. It seems, a heap.
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Tricky Techniques
Rhyme, metaphor, onomatopoeia, Similie, symbolism, personification. To all those tricky writing techniques, You deserve a standing ovation.
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The Time
I wish I had the time. To write a perfect rhyme. Make a rhyme that's mine. Oh, I wish I had the time. I wish I had the hours. To write a verse with power. Make a verse that towers.
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The Perfect Rhyme
The recipe For perfect rhyme I've searched for it Time after time Would it be A lilting song To light the dark And right the wrong Should it contain A lot of swearing Or is that Too...
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Thanks Opuss
I just have to say,. Opuss is quite a feat,. Stopping me update,. A status or tweet,. Enjoying myself,. Just taking the time,. To type something out,. And make the words rhyme,. I have to admit,.
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Apologies
I'd like to apologise,. for the grammar I've displayed,. And the fact that this poem,. Has been somewhat delayed,. I have been known to criticise,. The grammar of my peers,.
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Sir Humpty Of Dumpty
Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpy Dumpty why do you bother at all. You keep going up with no end in sight. All the kings horses have never been able to put you right.
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Think Inside The Box
I'm sat in my room staring at this blank bit of space on my phone. Wondering to myself deep in thought of how to make it my own. You see... When I write, i'm not in it for the glory.
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......:)
Why do you do it. Am I forgiven. I am sorry. Writing is painful This is so sad Do I care. Read the first word of every line apart from the last line read the last 'word'... Comment.
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Post 140
Yet another CDO post Has been birthed, inspired, By 139, I think it's time To give up the ghost. I'm tired Of living in fear Of numbers that seem Uneven, odd if you will.
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Cautionary
A cautionary tale to start the day Regarding the honour that's come my way I make words rhyme but so do others Opussia's poetical sisters and brothers And the writers, who make stories strong Some...
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Perfection
I know this makes me a hypocrite, But I really am fed up of it. I'd like to complain about the complaints, That, this lovely app, do taint. I want to hear a poem of love, An animal tale about a dove.
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Something Stirring
In Opussia Something's stirring In the shadows Something's occurring. So high ranked Sitting down Wearing his Fake plastic crown. I'm sorry sir, But you lie. These aren't original. Do you even try.
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Copy Kittens.
Copy me and make me cry, Or do your own: actually try. Plagiarism and copying, You should have your own song to sing. Kittens on here try their best, It's not easy, when we're oppressed.
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Copy The Cat
Miow Purrr Do you like cats. Like the cat in the hat. The one that writes. Think he has rights. No.
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Rhyming
I don't think that poems always have to rhyme, Because I was looking at my watch and noticed the nice colour, Sped downstairs and opened a book, When the whole house suddenly vibrated, But anyway, I...
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What You Bring
I blush at all the praise you bring Flattered.
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A Random Poem
I walk out across the sand, Waiting for you to take my hand, Listening to the sounds of love's true spear, When in fact it's only over hear.
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