The Poet: Super Sonnet Sunday: Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Mother Nature is like me,
Quite bipolar, just for a start,
Temps in the eighties one day, from it I only want to flee,
The next is thirty-nine, your breath comes in clouds to wave away.

And, now the poem will shift,
A neat little segue,
To love being the world’s most beautiful gift,
Assigning a ten thousand word essay.

What does an essay have to do with love,
Everything! If it’s an essay on Romeo and Juliet,
The love between them is sweeter than any dove,
Spend five hundred words describing the sunset.

Romeo and Juliet, an essay on love, Mother Nature’s mental disorder,
What more can be crammed into this oversized poem?
This question could not be harder,
A challenge it is, and I’m going to show them.

Star Wars and Star Trek and Doctor Who for good measure,
We’ll stir up a nice pot of chaos,
John de Lancie is both Q and Discord, of that I am sure,
Come now, it’s time for the séance.

What does Harley Quinn and Twilight Sparkle have in common?
Their voice actor, the one and only Tara Strong,
Seems awfully rotten,
Smelling distinctly of Hong Kong.

And this has been my Super Sonnet Sunday,
You better believe it’s my number one fun day.

Ryan S. Kinsgrove


Follow along with my peculiar brand of insanity:

The Poet-Super Sonnet Sunday: All Under Control

Delirious he,
Delirious she,
Delirious me,
Delirious thee.

Mania and Dementia,
Manic and Depressive,
Twins on the same coin, hallelujah,
Yet suddenly compressive.

Bi-polar disorder, you old fiend,
Or claim you Sheogorath be,
From thee the Joker has many things gleaned,
Constant accursed companion you are to me.

Mental health is not a joke,
Trapped in this monster’s eternal yoke,
My brains spill out little more than yolk,
And, I’ll feel as if I never woke.

On paper, it’s easy to be mad,
The audience merely thinks it’s an act,
In reality, I’m not all that bad,
I’d say I’ve got plenty of tact.

Negative thoughts, self-deprecation, all under control,
I’ll at least let you think I’m playing that role.

Ryan S. Kinsgrove


Follow along with my peculiar brand of insanity:

Ode To The Eternal Goddess

I want to write a poem about Xarathiel,
A girl so pure she deserves an isle,
Her picture on a box in the cereal aisle,
She certainly has impeccable style.

Don’t doubt for one second her guile,
She will keep you guessing for quite a while,
Till you feel completely senile,
Only then will she smile.

Her joy it runs on for many a mile,
Shaped in the design of old argyle,
Watch for how she places the tile,
Maybe she’ll make it your new hairstyle.

Sense this makes not, I’ll drain the Nile,
Just to please my little Xarathiel.

Follow along with my peculiar brand of insanity:


The Real Meaning of 42, a Sonnet

I know the meaning of 42,
Do you want to know too,
The answer lies in computer code,
Let us set it now to ASCII mode.

An asterisk is the key,
A variable it is, wild and free,
Make of it what you will,
Anything to seal the deal.

How to find an asterisk in ASCII,
You need to look no further than 42,
Deep Thought answered the only way it could,
Deep Thought answered as a computer would.

To a computer life is a variable, an asterisk, a wildcard,
42 means life is what you make of it, a concept not so hard.

Check out the partner post at: The Real Meaning of 42

Join my mailing list at: — -o 42 o — -

Super Sonnet Sunday/Poem a Day: In the Dark

In the dark,
The elf has no heart,
He isn’t here for a lark,
He is going to tear you apart.


His swords drip,
Saturated by blood,
He will rip,
And, rush through like a flood.


Fear is crawling up your back,
Waiting for his attack,
All you see is naught but black,
There is no time to retract.


I see shifting shadows in the dark,
The Raven Stone will sink the ark.


***Author’s Note***

I thought I would write a poem to accompany my short story. I certainly like the way it turned out.

Found image on Pintrest, but I’m not sure who to credit it too.

And, speaking of my short story, if you missed In the Dark here’s a conveniently placed link.

Super Sonnet Sunday/Poem a Day: Tech Support Woes

It’ll be just a few more minutes,
I’m sorry for the wait,
I say that to so many tenants,
It fills me with rage and hate.


I want the other department,
To just pick up,
Make it work at their apartment,
So they can shut up the pup.


Tech support woes,
I do declare,
Digital foes,
Try not to stare.


I’m not sure what else to say,
So, I’ll just turn around and say yay.




***Author’s Note***

If the poem seems broken and disjointed with no clear direction as to the imagery and language, that’s because it is. It’s taken over a week to write, each time I’ve sat and stared at it for an hour or more without really being able to move forward with it. So, as a final act of desperation, here it is. I’m not sure if it’s going to be worth having thrown the poem together just to have a post, or if I’ll come to find some worth in the poem in time. I dunno. For now I’ll let you decide.

Super Sonnet Sunday/Poem a Day: Celita Luna, Queen of Tides


I hold the moon within,
My name is but a flower,
She will not give in,
Blooming forever and an hour.


Celita Luna, Queen of Tides,
All have bent their knee,
For she is the mother of the night that rides,
Her children, all gods, keep her lands free.


The shade grows,
To take the Jewel of Atlantis,
Celita knows,
She will strike fast, moving as a mantis.


I will move with her,
Singing a song to make me stronger.


Super Sonnet Sunday: Sorry I Haven’t Been Around

To preface this, I just realized I’m really really depressing when I write poetry O.o

Sorry I haven’t been in town
Sorry I haven’t been around
I’ve been feeling down
Down deep beneath the ground.
I find myself crying again
Into my pillow late at night
Impossible to restrain
Impossible to find the light.
Armed only with a shovel
Not a candle to light the way
I’m to dig out of this hovel
To make my way towards the day.
Some day I will breathe fresh air,
As I walk upon a golden stair.
(Image credit goes to Kellie Brining, where she got it I’m not sure.)

Super Sonnet Sunday (Just a day or so late): I Don’t Know How To Write A Poem

I don’t know how to write a poem,

My heart has never been quite that broken,

I fill my soul with a great totem,

Only to leave the words unspoken.

I’ll write a song the birds will sing,

In the sky while they dip and dive,

At the dawning of the spring,

May the heavens ever thrive.

But the earth there withers and dies,

Mountains of burning fiery hate,

Through a veil of little white lies,

I have come to seek my fate.

With these final words upon my lips,

I hope you forgive my apocalypse.