What The Sky That Falls Poem Are You?

Will you be a villanelle, a sestina, a pantoum or a sonnet? This is one for all poetry lovers!

Deniz Besim
Created By Deniz Besim
On Jun 7, 2015

What should a good poem be about?

Select the poetic form of your choice:

What sort of technical device is it important that a poem has?

Select a picture:

A great poem should be...

Which of these poetry lines do you prefer?

How important is it that a poem is romantic and about love?

Choose your preferred colour of these four:

The Favourite Neighbour

The Favourite Neighbour

The tone of your voice has quite a nice ring,
Your countenance appealing when you frown,
Your eyes is heart-warming in cosy brown;
You're a breath of fresh air in lovely Spring,
You're a gorgeous melody when you sing;
The one that I want in my wedding gown,
With no one but you I'd rather be thrown.
The one who pulls a chord on my heart-string,
Manners so charming, I can't let you go.
The good life in rain, snow, even wet sleet,
I tenderly wipe a drop off your brow;
You're my favourite neighbour up my street,
To my parents, you're the one that I'd show.
Take long walks with you, I have happy feet.

From The Sky that Falls, by Deniz Besim

Birds

Birds

As birds soar over the sky really high,
The ceiling bends slightly towards them all,
Their whispers freeze upon our lips quite dry,
For when up there, no one can hear them call.

The ceiling bends towards them all,
As the clouds are cast lower than they seem,
For, when up there, no one can hear them call,
They surge above us, as if in a dream.

As the clouds are cast lower than they seem,
Their whispers freeze upon our lips quite dry,
They surge above us, as if in a dream,
As birds soar over the sky really high.

From The Sky that Falls, by Deniz Besim

Travel Journey

Travel Journey

I love to travel on an aeroplane,
Particularly by a window seat,
When looking right out of the window pane.

Look out so tiny is the city main,
A tirade of small houses all quite neat.
I love to travel on an aeroplane.

The wildest fields by fluffy clouds are slain,
And no longer can one see the city street.
When looking right out of the window pane.

I take a photo of window terrain,
The birds down below my photographs meet.
I love to travel on an aeroplane.

The right time from the window I refrain,
As I admire the views my heart does bleat.
When looking right out of the window pane.

Upon my photographs I see a stain,
It's the bright yellow sun causing a treat.
I love to travel on an aeroplane,
When looking right out of the window pane.

From The Sky that Falls, by Deniz Besim

The Boy on the Train

The Boy on the Train

I'm on the train and he has caught my eye,
Never a boy more gorgeous did see I,
His youthful locks hung low over his neck,
Knew I was a lady older than him,
Ten years more aged, probably his cougar,
Saw him as the train sped faster than light.

His eyes looked at me as I saw them light,
He smiled, and a twinkling in his deep eye,
That touched me, but I felt like a cougar;
He's probably in his twenties, but I
in my thirties; hand reached out, touched my neck,
Averted my eyes, then looked back at him.

I realise there's a chain on my neck
And fondle it with my fingers quite light,
Looked as if my words would advance on him,
Yet, I said nothing; I wanted his eye
Contact; wanted to speak but what would I
Say? Quite enough that I was his cougar.

He's not into an old female cougar,
Even if I did have a sexy neck,
He still wouldn't want me. Nothing that I
Could do about it. Fast train, speeding light,
Stops at my destination, as my eye
Looks up. Realised that I would leave him

Now. Yet my full glance strode towards him
As I would abort the train; a cougar
No more. Off my platform, I catch his eye
And he waves 'Goodbye,' so smooth as my neck;
And now I must advance out of the light,
To those last impressions of him held I.

Upon the cold, icy platform would I,
Now meet my boyfriend, and remember him.
I see him now looming beyond the light;
Giggling at me, now I'm not a cougar;
Perfect boyfriend, again, I touch my neck,
He comes forth, just as pleasant to the eye.

This man, I spot a greeting in his eye,
Delight to see him dressed in polo-neck;
Happy and light, not being a cougar.

From The Sky that Falls, by Deniz Besim