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Best Communication Poems

Below are the all-time best Communication poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of communication poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Communication Poems
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Details | Communication Poem | |

We, Community Of Weathered Communication -

We talk about the sacred,
places ancient as fire, palaces divine in quagmire,
getting lost in footsteps of artistic archaeology, uprooting ghosts in structure's facings,
We want to know why knowledge is forbidden outside the skin
of nourishment's tastings,
pineing for the verbotten dialect of perfect sin,
needing to understand why boats become skuttled in sands of dread,
asking why it seems angels along with demons our confusion conspire,

staring into faces of stone like children seeing new color,
wondering if those rigid lips will ever confess  a crime that We could forgive,
is there rhyme in love haunted by punished valor,
could there be trust established in harmony with ambition refusing to give,
communicating as birds before the malstrom
for directions to the shelter that made Time begin in form when thunder rung,
running into the genesis of Life & Death We trumpet like heros
congratulating each other for finding beauty in burdensome burrows -

J.A.B.  Dedicated to all community builders -

Details | Communication Poem | |

Final Communication From Vision

Get a life.
Learn to spell.
He's about to drive your family through hell.
He's hurt.
He doesn't know his worth.
This a closed chapter in my life.
I know that I will live well.
Take more notes at church.
So when opposition arises,
You'll be more ladylike,
And won't resort to curse.
All I wanted was for him to succeed.
My advice to you and your family,
Is to stay on your knees.
When disaster strikes, don't call me.
Don't want to hear of his tragedy.
Call Jesus!
I don't want to hear from you or him,
Anymore, but I'll still pray for him,
To walk through God's open door.

wrote 1-15-10

Details | Communication Poem | |

Unintelligible Communication - who/what/where/when/why/how?

How can you say the things
that make me want to scream?
How can you hear the words
that make me want to cry?

Why does my life
feel like a constant cliche
and why are you
content to care
about a creature who cares
about nothing at all?

i said i had lost my priorities
but i know i just finally
realized what they are:
"wallowing in self-imposed misery"
ranks first
and manipulation
and selfishness
come in a close second and third
if there is much difference
between them at all.

Can you tell
that i'm out of words?
all i can do
is scream and cry
sigh at life's inevitability
about the mess that is me
and i wish sometimes
that i could let go
float on the flow
of my tears and waters
that teem with my screams
and actually get somewhere.

i try to return to the past
but my creative juices
have fled
watered down by time
and repetitive experiences
and this is new
but not so much so 
that there's anything more
to say
that hasn't already
been said.
i've related to you
the over-used lines
i seem to spill at these times
don't be surprised if
i am reduced
to repeating 4 words:
"what do i do?"
'cause that's all it comes down to.

i write because
it feels like something accurate
-- and that still effects deeply and intensely --
might come out
the next time
or the next time
when really
i read over my old poems
and realize
i've exhausted my supplies
of deep, intense effective poems
and all that's left
is just chicken scratch.

don't want to
am not able to
write anything more
all i can do
is lay my head
on the naked pillow
and hope that i won't rise
or if i do
i won't be me.

i can write the words
that make me want to cry
i can write the things
that make me want to scream
but how you can say and hear
i'll never know
'cause i've gone
far beyond the realm
where that is
a plausible
but here i can retreat to 
and "fire at will
from behind my hideout
of faux-i-don't-care".
and as i write
i realize that that is the one thing
i can say
that is utterly true
because i am
and there's nothing i can do
to change that.

Details | Communication Poem | |


A rubbish/garbage collector is driving along a street picking up wheelie bins and emptying them into his compactor.

He goes to one house where the bin hasn’t been left out, and in the spirit of kindness, and after having a quick look about the bin, he gets out of his truck goes to the front door and knocks. There’s no answer.

Being a kind and conscientious bloke, he knocks again – much harder. Eventually a Japanese man comes to the door. “Harro!” says the Japanese man.

“Gidday, mate!

Where’s ya bin?” asks the collector.

“I bin on toiret,” explains the Japanese bloke, a bit perplexed.

Realising the fellow had misunderstood him, the bin man smiles and tries again.

“No! No! Mate, Where’s your dust bin?”

“I dust been to toiret, I toll you!” says the Japanese man, still perplexed.

“Listen,” says the collector, “You’re misunderstanding me. I mean, where’s your wheelie bin?”

“OK, OK.” Replies the Japanese man with a sheepish grin, and whispers in the collector’s ear.” I wheelie bin having sex wiffa wife’s sista!”