POEMS: Urban Desert and Ocksie Moron’s Dream
These were created for the CPC Friday Fling poetry challenge. Our theme this week is city life, and the added challenge is to include at least one oxymoron in the poem. I included one in each line of the first one,m in the same order which my co-host Michelle K. used in her example in the intro. I also tried to use one which I made up in each line of the second one.
There are two typos in the above. “in” is missing from “She was all alone in the city.” And “at” is missing from “Quickly stopping at a zombie hangout.”
OCKSIE MORON’S DREAM
The city is exceptionally mundane
in Ocksie Moron’s dream.
There lonely crowds honestly feign
the same differences seen.
A scattered pile of happenstance,
Infinite intimate strangers.
Sophisticated ignorance
in minefield of secure dangers.
Each acutely oblivious
to quiet cries for help.
Belabor secrets obvious
like hyperactive kelp.
To each his untouched intercourse
From each her fair injustice,
inflicting voluntary force;
interminable solstice.
Hid in plain sight, small greatness looms
among each soul’s parched spring,
for from its muses’ birthing tombs
mute songs from hearts may sing.
Though daylight nightmares’ divinity
may shape lonely cityscapes,
No limited infinity
prevents prisoners’ escapes.
For even mindless thoughts may bring
unconscious revelations,
of how to walk on ceilings,
follow leading inspirations.
Copyright April 18th 2013 RGD
Both excellent poems, (((Bob))) and the first one was much fun. I love how you can used the same oxymorons to write fun and humor for a complete turnaround from the dark one that I wrote… hey, another friday fling idea maybe sometime in the future. I’ll give the layout some thought.
:love: :love:
OMG Bob this is brilliant
I really enjoy the whole write this is my favorite parts
Each acutely oblivious
to quiet cries for help.
Belabor secrets obvious
like hyperactive kelp.
To each his untouched intercourse
From each her fair injustice,
inflicting voluntary force;
interminable solstice.
Hid in plain sight, small greatness looms
among each soul’s parched spring,
for from its muses’ birthing tombs
mute songs from hearts may sing.
Though daylight nightmares’ divinity
may shape lonely cityscapes,
No limited infinity
prevents prisoners’ escapes.