Tag Archives: poem about words

People Talk

People Talk

“Precocious,” said the neighbor lady, talking about me.
And so I grabbed the dictionary, perched it on my knee,
intent upon my purpose, concentrating on my need
to know the meaning of the word, although I couldn’t read.

At three years old, another neighbor said that I was sweet.
I licked my arm, thinking that I might be good to eat,
but I tasted of my modeling clay, and I began to choke.
I figured out his comment was something of a joke.

My crazy older brother used to call me “out of sight”
when at the dinner table—in daylight, not at night.
The space between us was not much. Why couldn’t he see
this person in her rightful place was obviously me?

At four years old, I know a lot: numbers, letters, words.
What to call the insects. The names for all the birds.
I listen when they talk to me from grass or tree or fence.
It’s only human animals that often don’t make sense!

Prompt words for today are space, precocious, sweet, rightful and purpose.

Plumbing the Depths

Plumbing the Depths

They call him the professor because of his great wit.
Everything he says has perspicacity in it!
The way he wrangles words should be no great surprise,
for he’s a modern Shakespeare in a plumber’s rough disguise.
Once he unplugs your loo, he is not finished, but instead
he shares a legendary quip to clear out his own head.

Word prompts for the day are: perspiscacity, wrangle, surprise, legendary and professor

Storage

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Storage

I’m not your typical hoarder. I don’t save balls of string.
Five foot stacks of newspapers really aren’t my thing.
Boxes of garage sale items do not line my halls.
Jumbles of castoff treasures do not obscure my walls.

My collection is more upbeat and easier to store.
I have thousands of them and room for plenty more.
And lest you think my hoarding is of objects more absurd,
I’ll tell you my obsession is simply for the “word.”

Those who have collected them all throughout the ages
are lexicographers and scribes, poets, writers, sages.
Sometimes they swirl around my head and leave it in a fog,
so when I run out of room, I store them in this blog.

Words like ships floating around, looking for a moorage—
I simply help them out by arranging for their storage.

 

Got a bit mixed up with my prompts today and used two from yesterday, so here is another poem with additional prompts from today: jumble and upbeat.

Love Poem in a Time of Worldwide Dispute

Love Poem in a Time of Worldwide Dispute

When other wondrous words continue to be broken,
let us still retain one word to be our token.
While all previous words just argue and discuss,
Let the only word that we require just be “us.”

Happy 9 year anniversary, Forgottenman!

Words for the day are wonder, continue, previous, broken.

Orgulous of Orgulous!

Orgulous* of Orgulous!!!

I’m suffering from reluctance and a bit of perturbation
that is interfering with my blog’s administration.
Embarrassed for this rhyme, I’ve no proclivity to flout it.
I’m sure my stats will plummet. There is no doubt about it.

We’ll ascribe the blame to Ragtag, for “orgulous” is the word
they’ve chosen for our prompt today—a choice that is absurd.
Who uses it in common speech, or formal speech, in fact?
Any poem I used it in, I’d afterwards redact.

I’m not a jolly blogger. I’m delaying activation.
I feel no need to add to my reader’s education
by using words requiring their use of dictionaries.
I prefer clear writing that requires no further queries.

It’s habit that demands that I find a way around this.
But now I feel no further need to otherwise expound this.
I’ve flailed around in writing this. I edit and I stumble.
Tomorrow may they choose a word that is a bit more humble!

 

*Orgulous: haughty, proud, ostentatious, disdainful!.

Prompt words for today are stats, jolly, activation and orgulous. (Good grief!)

Not a Clue

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Not a Clue

“Jejune” is a word that I bet you don’t know.
It simply means tedious, dreary or slow.
Guileless or boring, simple or naive—
artless and unworldly with naught up your sleeve.

When it comes to semantics, jejune folks won’t quibble.
They do not distinguish between drip or dribble.
When they need a haircut, please tell them they’re hairy.
Calling them “hirsute” will just make them wary.

If  big words should reach the apex of your tongue,

consider taking it down just a rung.
Jejune folks like small words like “pretty” and “cute.”
Words like “alluring” will render them mute.

Words like “obstreperous” also won’t do.
If you use a big word, they won’t have a clue.
Don’t call it a “wen” when it’s merely a pimple.
Things are much clearer when words are left simple.

 

 

Chritsine issued me a further challenge after she read their poem, so I wrote another. You can fine a link to her challenge and also my poem–short and silly– HERE.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/05/08/rp-wednesday-grateful/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/05/08/fowc-with-fandango-semantics/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/05/08/your-daily-word-prompt-jejune-may-8-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/05/08/apex/

The Pontificator

 

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The Pontificator

His ego is most copious, but alas, also fragile,
for his imagination is something less than agile.
He’s much given to adages that were coined by another:
prolific writers of the past, his preacher or his brother.
He’s not really a plagiarist. He just forgets the fact
that although he might perform it, he didn’t write the act!
His words, all gloss and polish, are lacking in much worth.
They seem to lack a kernel, though provided with much girth.
For all that they sound pretty—refined to a high gloss,
instead of rarest metal, alas, they’re merely dross.

In short, although they’re polished ’til they sparkle, glitter, gleam,
they ramble on without restraint, sadly lacking a theme.

 

The prompt words today are copious, fragile, gloss and theme. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/rdp-monday-copious
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/17/fowc-with-fandango-fragile
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/gloss/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/daily-addictions-2018-week-37/theme

 

Sour Grapes from a Pissed Rhyming Poet

Sour Grapes from a Pissed Rhyming Poet

I fear this world of prompts has gotten slightly out of hand
and so their choice of prompt words is likely to be panned.
Antediluvian? Come on!!! Who uses that strange word?
It best describes itself. In modern usage, it’s absurd.
Please give us words that help us, not vocabulary puzzles.
We need words that lead like leashes and not creative muzzles!!!!
Do not try to impress us with obscure nomenclature.
I don’t care about their backgrounds. I don’t care about their nature.
Give me conglomerations of letters that I know,
and not these fancy words that seem simply meant for show!!!!
In short, I’m pissed because I do not like “antediluvian”
which only seems to rhyme with hard to use words like Peruvian!!

 

This prompt sort of threw me for a loop, so instead of just giving up and going on to a different prompt, I decided to write a gentle protest, meant in fun.. The Ragtag prompt today is antediluvian. 

Driven: dVerse Poets Open Link Night

jdbphoto                     

 

Driven

They’re always back there in my head––
the things I could have said instead.
Sometimes not voiced for a reply,
but just existing in my mind’s eye.
Words joined in ranks turn there about
wondering how they’ll get out.
Before they start to riot and rage,
I let them out of their bone cage.

The voices murmur and they chide.
Cause trouble if they’re locked inside.
What if the mad men of this world––
in asylums cruelly hurled––
are simply writers who don’t know it.
Wild voice inside. No place to stow it.
All those entities inside
taught that they must try to hide.

Perhaps if they could let them out
to prance and scamper, whine and shout
on paper––empty, white and thin––
it would be the simplest medicine.
To fill the paper the surest way
to bring tortured voices to light of day.
To join that strange fraternity
Of those who have to speak to see.

What drives us to this room, alone,
our lives austere as any bone?
Is it the voices there inside us,
barely able to abide us,
needing to be wider heard?
To keep them in would be absurd.
I let them out for exhibition.
Free them from their cramped perdition.

And as I drift off into sleep,
I am the company they keep.
I hear their whisperings faint but clear
as they march in ranks from ear to ear.
Words rolling out in countless reams
fill my empty chambers with dreams.
When I awaken, they break their order,
wild to escape this nightly hoarder.

They jostle, elbow, push and squeeze
to make their way onto these keys.
I can barely match their pace
as they stream out, caught in the race
to be the next to flee my head
in their mad stampede to be said.
I don’t control these words, you see.
I am their transport. They drive me.

 

To play along with dVerse Poets, go here: 
https://dversepoets.com/2017/09/07/openlinknight-203/

Exchanging Words on Little Santa Monica

photo by Georgia King


Exchanging Words On Little Santa Monica

There on that city avenue,
I watched you as I sipped my brew.
Not the woman you’d chosen to woo
as you read poetry so true,
so raw, so blunt, so rare and new,
the air around you turned to blue.
Your sad poems caressed and drew
us closer. All that motley crew.

For me, love was a new venue
that night I first set eyes on you,
but there was such a ballyhoo
around you, that you had no clue
that I had joined the retinue
of women waiting in your queue.
But as I left, oh yes, I knew.
My life took on a brighter hue.

And though you were far out of view,
your memory stuck to me like glue.
Thoughts of you both birthed and slew.
Our meeting was long overdue
that night I saw you in the pew—
there to hear the poems I grew
from words carefully chosen and few,
I drew you in by some voodoo.

Perhaps our muses conspired and blew
winds from exotic Xanadu
or Zanzibar or high Peru,
the air around us to imbue,
giving us the selfsame cue:
this is the lover meant for you,
your octoroon and kangaroo,
the heart you’ll break, the fat you’ll chew.

Of all words plucked from life’s rich stew,
the ones that I would never rue.
Never would they ring untrue.
Those words that, though we might redo them,
never could I overdo them.
The words I’d sought my whole life through.
The vow I’d renew and renew.
That one rare thing I’d finally do.

 

The prompt word today is continue. It is the first word I’ve ever found that has a rhyming word that begins with each letter in the alphabet! I discovered this without consulting Google or a rhyming dictionary, which I occasionally have to resort to when a word is especially hard to find enough rhymes for. I found 64 rhyming words. Still haven’t checked any dictionaries. They may have additional ones, but these are mine, all mine! The only rhyme that is repeated is the word “you,”

“The” Words: avenue ballyhoo blew blue boo (boo hoo) brew chew clue crew cue do (doo doo) drew due eschew ew few glue goo grew hew hue imbue issue Jew kangaroo Kew, knew  loo mew moo new  overdo  overdue Peru pew phew poo queue redo renew retinue rue screw shrew slew stew sue through true undo untrue  venue view vindaloo voodoo whew woo Xanadu you zoo

 

The prompt word today is continue.