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Signs language by doherty, john
The Language by Munoz, Augusto
Universal Language of Love by Smith, Arlene
Otro idioma - Another language by Haiku Poems, Bennie6
No Language Barrier by williams, john
Limits of language by minisce, tyler
Biconic Language by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Language Art's Madness by GoldWin, Genie Ogash
Power of Language by Woods, Mark
Angelic Language by Stevenson, Jerry

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The Best Language Poems

Details | Language Poem | |

Rhythmic Perfection (anapestic trimeter)

There's a river that twists in the mind
that I plunder and ravish with sieves,
on crusades to the summit of rhyme
where my Phoenix of tropes and schemes live.

In a war to free diction's fair Queen
where the Soldiers of Babel bemuse
and the modern day graceless regimes
are in battles to stifle my muse!

In my quest for her verse of prestige
I have traveled a nexus of words
with this Lexis of language on siege;
where the dissonant hum drum is heard!

Oh, the poise of my bayonet firm
as I pin down my thoughts in a rush!
Oh, the will of the language it squirms
as her essence of glory I brush!

She's the Queen Muse that whispers within
as she watches me battle with style,
she supplies me the yarn that I spin
as she lends me her rhythm awhile.

It's the moment her Highness is freed
that the Armies of Dissonance fall
and the sound of Perfection can bleed
in those lyrical sounds that enthrall!

Copyright © Jean Marble

More great poems below...

Details | Language Poem | |



Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions

Burning fire you are 
Consuming my whole 
My heart
My mind 
My soul
My spirit,  
As you relentlessly
To be conceived
To be formulated 
To be understood
To be expressed!

A Herculean task it is,
I swear, 
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained 
And mold you into:
And still retain 
Your explosive 
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple 
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!

Thus, having no
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the 
Cosmos speaks,
The universe alone
The language of 
That we humans 
Even then 
To describe you

©Demetrios Trifiatis
   28 January 2013


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

Details | Language Poem | |

Shawty Got Swag

$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag, Shawty mad dope. Face all cheesin’, She real turned up. Goin’ to da club, She steppin' wit her peeps, Lookin’ so ratchet, She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket, No stacks in her wallet, But she all into bubbly Slurpin’ and burpin’. Lookin for a big baller, Who’ll give her wat she wants, Wildin’ on the dance floor, Tweakin’ an’ freakin’, Shawty actin' so cra cra! She just like da rest a dem, But Shawty real fly, Sure likes a lotta ice, Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up Coz she needs a boo wit finesse, Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent, 5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants. Shawty off the chain, Shawty off the hook, She got game and she’s aight! Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S. Walker (8-18-2014). Some Terms and Definitions: shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style; turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright; wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ – dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling; finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet – ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling – expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover; da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook – excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up – absolutely, really.

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez

Details | Language Poem | |


Before twilight’s panels close the day,
I sneak into this sacramental hallway
fueling my pagan howls where I can be
the raw-weed of a bush: a time when
vignettes drain the floor--- spilling bones
of my own fonts, scratched and bent.  Here,
the vein bleeds of how i watched the pellet sun
grate dusky leaves among stones, or why
old man Charlie picked his a regular bench
in the park, talking to himself motionless
as if a 40s band were playing through his head.

More images stampede as the gas light
blinks with the harlequin moon, touching
my lower spine, my zodiac beginnings: still,
the morphine hours wear off from a trance…
I walk in limbo upon wings 
of parchment flooded with drunken ABCs ,
outpouring secrecy of thoughts. My mind 
outlines a visual  language : the drama 
and comedy of one day  make me a student
aging reveries: my bile hurts no more, as

my fingers grasp new stars on fire.

Brian Johnston's Contest
Words---The Heart Of Imagination
by nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud

Details | Language Poem | |


Does not the pen yield its ink unto the bare page,
For expressionism to spill forward expelling inspirations
Liberal curve, it’s the power of freedom of speech is
It not.
How many have died for what they believe in,
What weight in blood soils, have these brave
Individuals has cost in life’s causes of the justice
And righteous.
These voices sounding can be heard even though
The flesh flame has been extinguished, hope light
Flickers in the darkest corner of silence, and it’s mighty
Winds wave can still be felt amongst the living.
Know one stands alone in a justified cause, if the truth
In the written words is spoken out loud, and is proudly
Bared by the author.
The next generations seeks our kindling fire, to inspire
There small embers to burn more brightly let us encourage
Such raw fuel to ignite, not smother it by smug self righteousness.
Set ablaze the pages of the future generations, let their inspirational
Spark spread, setting the very heavens a fire with enlightenment's torrent.
In this world we are given the gift of speech, thought, and wisdom,
For what other reason but to share the best of ourselves with others,
It is the gleaming light that sizzles in the eyes of the human spirit,
And severs us from the beast of the fields, and it is called Intelligence,
Compassion, and the freedom of speech.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Language Poem | |

Speak My Language

Speak my language
A language of love I can understand
My heart language
Understand my need
My desire to be understood
Speak my language

Speak fluently to my heart
Words of Affirmation
I thrive on hearing praise
Verbal validation
Of all I do and am
Of all I want to be
Words of Affirmation
Speak to my inner woman
And give her fairy wings
To fly to you and meet YOUR every need
In a language YOU understand

Caress me
Run your fingers through my hair
Let them frolic with every strand
Run them over my lips
Dip them inside
And let my lips close over them
Let my tongue tease
Run your fingers down the length of my arms
Give the fullness a gentle squeeze
Let your lips travel down my neck
On their pilgrimage
To the sacred valley 
Between my breasts
Where they will nestle for a while
Before they travel 
Up the soft snow white ascent 
Longing to explore
The beautifully colored terrain
Of the glorious twin peaks

Gently, with butterfly wings touch my waist
Feel the earthquake motions they instigate
Let your hands speak
A language my body understands
The language of Physical Touch
The one I comprehend the most
A language that will not be lost
In translation to my heart
Words of Affirmation
Physical Touch
My love languages
That fill to overflowing
My desire to be loved, wanted

Acts of Service
I will gladly perform
Speaking now in turn to you
What your heart translates
As love from your woman
I'll show my respect and care
In tangible ways
A bed freshly made
Warm food to tempt your appetite
As I will later tempt your body
A massage to sooth away
The cares of your day

Quality Time
Your heart understands
When I give you my full attention
Putting all else aside
As my eyes focus on yours
And the world stands still
I free my mind to listen to the words
Spoken and unspoken
That you convey to me
And having heard all
I arrange my time
So that your heart can see
You are a top priority
To me

And the final language
Is a shared one, my love
Giving Gifts...
A poem tucked in your briefcase
A flower for me
Heart shaped earrings
My favorite perfume 
A necktie
A luscious mango
When my heart craves succulence
Decadent chocolate
Made ever sweeter
For it comes melting to your lips
Spread on the tips of my breasts
For your mouth to savor
Satisfying your sweet tooth tantrums

Speak my language
Hear with your body and soul
As I eloquently “speak” to you
Love understood, lived, celebrated

Yes, my love
Speak to me
In a language
I can understand

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Language Poem | |

The Strings That Bind

Let The Music Play On

When I am melancholy 
And feeling, all alone
I place my violin 
On my shoulder, like a phone
Then start a conversation
In melodic overtones
and every string that speaks to me
Brings me closer back to home

I can smell the coffee brewing
There're hotcakes on the griddle
And Gram-pa in the corner 
Strumming lightly on His fiddle
And now that fiddle's mine
He passed it on to me
So I could find my way back home
Wherever I may be

One day I’ll have a child
May be, a He or She
I hope they'll learn its language
And treat it patiently
And take it safely with them
Wherever they may roam
‘Cause all they have to do is play
To find there way back home

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis

Details | Language Poem | |

Broken English

I love my broken English

Am in love with my broken English

Am honored to have two other languages

The ability to think from language to language is one that many don't experience 
The ability to bring vibes from one language to another is one, that many envy

Sometimes it's like a train, English flows easily before it gets to a halt
Sometimes it's a bus with many stops, some harsh, some dash, some flash
And some mistakenly whether car or train, crash 
Some like aeroplane, are up there in the air
Building their own castles
Creating unfamiliar words

Whether writing from kikuyu to English 
Or kikuyu to Swahili and then to English 
Or just writing from the little dash of English that I learnt from my English classes,
With poetry,I can still escape 
Whether in the veiled grammatical errors
        Or just like a volatile chameleon

Copyright © njeri hunjeri

Details | Language Poem | |

Language Of Love

I have studied your beauty from afar
Getting to know exactly who you are
I'm entranced by the vision that I see
Longing to test my knowledge of thee 

Read all your words, listened to your voice 
Drawn to you not by fate, but by choice
Your scent, your dimple, your sexy stare
Taking my breath away, Oh how I care

You're teaching me a language, so complete
Words of velvet, silky smooth and sweet 
Descriptions of you, my angel from above
Soaring high together sharing our love

Copyright © Tim Smith

Details | Language Poem | |


                Language is the gift from the world ancient

                     Because from sapiens it did orient

                         Later we created grammar

                       To give it shape and glamour

                   Once all the people were together

                   So was a common glot, none did differ

                     Later the continents moved apart

                    Steadily to form the languages a lot

                    It's a purely geographysical process

                      Soon they got their own address

                    There are really many things common

                   Since all these fall under the same union

                   All languages are from the source asame

                     Who are we to differentiate them..??


Copyright © amolkumar udarwar

Details | Language Poem | |

Let Me Translate

Let me translate
My love for you
From written.... to touched
From syllable sensuality
To physical functionality
From verbal to nonverbal virtual reality

Or better yet
Let me translate them into YOUR language
Yes, I’m a polyglot glutton
craving your satiation
Interjection velocity 
Groan and grope physicality
Touch and tease and taste temerity 
Chaste words undulating into unchaste carnality

Let me translate
In meanings that you understand
Points of reference that you rant and pant
In my ear…say it in a chant….
Over and over...
I won't let you recant
your forbidden fantasty frolic…
Baby...I’ll grant

Let me translate
Into the language of YOU
I understand
Your savage need laced with greed….
concede....every one...
to me
This wave won't recede
till that passion is freed...
by my deliciously devilish deed...

My pleasure peaks uncontrollably
Rocked in your volatility
Word translation ecstasy
Come together finality

So, just let me....
Let me translate
My love

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Language Poem | |

Sign Language

Sign language means bridging silence with a hand speaking gesture getting our thoughts across to the one who’s aiming to understand; Our finger movements tell it all. Contest Name: Give Me A Sign for Nette By: Mystic Rose May 14, 2015

Copyright © Mystic Rose

Details | Language Poem | |

Language Barrier

I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,

at least not all of it,

but the emotion pouring past her lips, 

the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists

enunciated more clearly,

than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,

and grabbed me, held me still.

                   …In that moment, her soul was in my arms.

In that finite, tender breath of our lives,

she was my mother, my best friend…

but I could not console her. 

I didn’t have the words;

and my heart sank into the 

concrete between us,

wet with the pain of God’s rain

and her tears. 

                  …Were my tears

So, I simply opened my palms

toward her crouched form and 

spoke the only words I could 

fathom, that would be accepted

by a stranger on a dangerous street. 

"I am sorry, It will be okay. God will bless you."

I knew she did not understand…

"Lo siento" 

                  “que va a estar bien”    

                            “Dios te bendecira’ “ 

the words were as messy as the overturned

duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly

from my lips, as my knees hit the street.

Two strangers, cried in the rain,

knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,

and yet we shared the weight,

together, for those few moments;

the barrier of language was broken.

Love spoke for us.  

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

…Love transcends any language


Copyright © James Kelley

Details | Language Poem | |

If Languages Were Instruments

If languages were instruments,
English, the language of my own America,
Would be something like a piano.
Each word is clear and sharp-
When we sing, the note does not waver.
But I suppose it's more fair to say that
English is something like an electronic keyboard
With two hundred different modes because English
Has so many different versions, 
Adaptations of other instruments,
Emulations, or imitations, however you want 
To think of it; there is no accent that cannot 
Be reconfigured to be
Played on keys in distinct shades
Of black or white.

Arabic though...
Arabic is more like a violin.
The sound of Arabic
Flies up and down the scale
In deliciously smooth legato,
Stopping to linger on vibrato;

Copyright © Cameron Hartley

Details | Language Poem | |


Misunderstood, trapped and rarely
considered an equal; confusion
dominates many faces that try to
comprehend my broken voice.
No-one seems to recognise my
body language and unusual hand movements.
Wrong conclusions are drawn towards
my level of intelligence; many view me
like a lost child desperate to be one with
its mother.
I may speak the English language but
it appears broken; my voice is thus 
lost, like a treasured belonging long 
been misplaced somewhere unknown.
My hearing remains but I speak like
a deaf person; hand gestures are made
to try to convey my thoughts and emotions,
sadly, hardly anyone has learned how to
interpret someone like myself.
I am voiceless and thus I seem not to
belong in this world of fragmented images
of what is deemed normal.
Regardless of my affliction I remain as 
whole as I can possibly be.

Copyright © Leighann Anderson

Details | Language Poem | |

Broken English

He speaks in broken English;
It's interesting to see my language this way-
Spread out like pieces of shattered ceramic,
The edge of each word tossing off glints of meaning
Like bits of light, illumination; a kaleidoscope
Of light or sound dancing in the air before his lips...
At times he seems embarrassed, pausing before he speaks, 
Like the boy who tipped over his mother's favorite vase-
He knows how I love words- and scrambles to piece back
Together the fragmented ideas, hoping the cracks might
Be overlooked; the result of his efforts is often unconventional,
And yet... impossibly lovely too... 
It's a picture puzzle of a lonely landscape rearranged into a flower
It's a mosaic; the pieces don't have to fit to make the image radiant
It's a kintsukuroi bowl, the language veined through with gilded passion,
More beautiful for having been broken

Copyright © Cameron Hartley

Details | Language Poem | |

Sleepless Nights

Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark 
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds

This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained

But,  don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day

The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain

From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night, 
that switches on the light

I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...

For Leonora Galinta's Contest

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Language Poem | |

Growing Up With The Language of Kings

I always had this fascination with the English language. 
Ever since I learned to read and write, 
it captivated my interest, beside my own native tongue;
Opening for me a whole new world different from my own -
A world of kingdoms, of princesses and princes, of queens and kings,
of knights in shining armor, of noblemen and the common man,
of many innumerable things.

A child who found such joy in a second language or third
would feel like a traitor to her own when deep nationalism 
is rooted in her bones.  It was not easy.

And yet the fascination remained – despite being inculcated 
with heavy ideas on love for motherland and in the words of Rizal –
“Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika, 
Ay higit pa ang amoy sa malansang isda”.*

To a child who secretly preferred reading in the foreign tongue,
These words were damning. So much so that in my mind
there was always an ongoing war while growing up 
with the king’s language and Rizal.

Looking back, mastering both languages would have been a lot easier
had somebody told me: “Go ahead, do what makes you happy,
as long as you do not forget your identity. 
Be proud of the color of your skin. 
You can be unique and world class at the same time,
there is no need to feel guilt, find your own rhyme.”

And so today, I tell the youth who have their own native tongue:
Enjoy the journey, but do not forget you are a child of your land
while you discover many things, using the language of kings. 

Dr. Jose Rizal – Philippine National Hero, who ironically have mastered different languages including Greek, Latin, Hebrew ,Sanskrit, German, French, Italian among others, aside from Spanish and the now commonly used English language

* "Anyone who does not love his own language 
is worse than the smell of a rotting fish."

Kim Patrice Nunez
26 July 2015

Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez

Details | Language Poem | |

Body Language

What is it about me that gives you the impression that I am just your average
sleazy, easy, breezy, from the hood who can't possibly get ahead in life unless 
you are by my side.???

Is there a note written across my forehead that reads:
do not respect 
always neglect and,
never expect any goodness from this creature unless
legs are open and ready for business?

Does my azz have a "grab me" sign stuck to it
or is that what you would allow a strange man to do
to your daughter 
to squeeze your mothers breast or are
the words "touch me" tattooed 
across my chest?

Do my eyes unconsciously tell you to come over and try to slowly 
slide down my panties 
with your,
ridiculous lies 
heard too many times
from too many guys
who've more than once tried
to get in between 
or better yet inside
my thighs.?

 Don't get me wrong, I'm being so sincere 
I  just wanna make it clear that
there is something that you hear
if my body tells you action like the movie genre
or do I look different in every scene like a world 

Is bich my name in another language or,
do you see hoe somewhere on my birth certificate?
Am I not worth more than a single letter?...Ay!
or did I somehow give birth to you? Ay Ma!
Do my features confuse you or would you really prefer
a man...."Man".

How can my body speak a language that I have yet to hear?
Well before you get the wrong idea, let me make this clear.

When my azz say "grab me", that really just a lie
If my eyes say "come here" they really mean goodbye
Don't guess my name just ask and I'll let you know
and whatever my forehead region reads is just a bad typo.

It should go something like.... Always respect, never neglect, and only expect 
greatness from this Queen no matter what her pulchritude screams. 
The media degrades her as society points its finger and laughes 
all the while she's searching for your support
the support 
of her father
her son,
Why? Because she is yours....
Your mother,
Your Daughter,
Your sister, and 
Your Lover.
So...why not?
Love her, 
Honor her, 
See her for who she really is and
not for what her body says.

Copyright © Latasha Lee

Details | Language Poem | |

teach me in a dream

Constellations of values and ethics 
like dancing stars in onyx nights. 
Majestic fields of ideals stay grounded 
in what only seems right. Keenly, I search 
philosopher’s heels to grasp theoretical 
notions, held together by gravity’s scales 
as comets of light circle in tails
and teach me in a dream.

What is the uniqueness of your poetry?
Someone once said to me that “poetry can’t include abstract language.”

Well, that really got me going! As a lover of language and theory I just couldn’t let this one pass. The uniqueness of my poem is that I use abstract language with planetary imagery to lightly illustrate two mega-abstract ideas, ethics & philosophy. The end culminates that all knowledge is refutable (i.e. “and teach me in a dream”).

Copyright © julie heckman

Details | Language Poem | |

Linguistic Dreams

Strokes of eloquence
breathe airbrushed scenes
painting my world in linguistic dreams

How tasteless bland these buds would be
If phrased thy love were unspoken to me
like honey barren of sweetened flavor
a silent, save-less savior

In awe
giving pause
grant witness your thoughts
grandiloquence such passion draw
as violent rage to sweet stillness assaults

Like Iridescent colors 
wrapped in transparent light
are the words of my lover
divinities descendant a lingual delight

If loosed a cellos strings 
an octave low 
an unworthy note
void would be the magic 
at the touch of the bow 

But No! 
I hear the heavens open
my soul spun in a rainbows glow
oration poised a symphonic token
of love as it was intended to show

Let my days grow ever old
bereft my riches in tow
but take not thy language of love for me
lest my light fade away for the woe

Simply pleading...
Don't go, don't go 
Thine eloquence to have and to hold

Copyright © Sarai Romani

Details | Language Poem | |


In years gone by, folks didn’t like to say
God’s name to show  surprise or great dismay,
and so you would hear “Goodness,“ “Gol” and “Gee,“
and also euphemisms for J.C.

Jiminy Cricket! Doesn’t that sound nice?
Jeepers Creepers, Jason Crisp or Cheese and Rice?
Godfrey Daniel! Surely you know that
is slang for God and “God rot it” is “Drat!”

“Oh my gosh,” “My goodness,” or simply “Lord”
replaced expletives that today come poured
from mouths of kids who can’t be mannerly
to just say “Leapin‘ Lizards“ or “Golly Gee!”.

You’ll hear (for damning something with God’s name),
“Dag nabbit” and “Dad gum.” They might seem tame
but fit the bill and give us a small thrill!
But dang it, why would someone say “Sam Hill?”

Words from the Holy Bible we enjoy
employing when we say Holy Moley,
Holy cow, Judas Priest (but WAIT!)
For Pete’s Sake! How did Judas ever rate?

Great Scott, there’s even Jumpin’ Jehosophat!
How the HECK did they ever come up with that?
By Jove, I’m nearly finished. Now pretty please. . . .
Instead of using Christ’s name, just say Jeeeeez!

Written July 26, 2015

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Language Poem | |

Power of Language

Language the tool that provokes inspiration
Much often devalued, to the point of damnation.
Literature is more than Shakespeare and Twain
It’s a gift we’ve been given to enlighten our brain.

You can write was is right; right what is wrong
Flourish and nourish an empowering song.
Create a sad story which drives one to tears
The orator crafts lines to arouse mighty cheers.

Car manuals and manuscripts; not always emotions
Scientists use language to mix up their potions.
Einstein used writing to describe all his theories
While others use it, to depict hobbits and fairies.

History is told and the future is thought
The office worker can gladly, chalk up a report.
It’s the method in which, we record all our laws
The pen as a sword has even started up wars.

It's the prime way we have, to knowledge accrue
See language is there in all that we do.
A good scribe can define, give hope, glory and fear
Or open the gate to a whole new frontier.

Language and literature is more than a tool
They give you the chance, to make your life full.


Copyright © Mark Woods

Details | Language Poem | |

Langue d'oc, a Micro-Paradelle

Your love song lapsed into ancient French that April day.
I only understood the words of spring and heartsore
lapsed. Only love and heartsore, I understood your ancient 
words of the spring-day song into that French April.

You fabricate my pauses into repetition, silence speaks
of ages strung to rhyme in love’s difficult service
you strung into pauses in service to ages. Fabricate of
love’s repetition, rhyme speaks my difficult silence.

We practice tedium of vows till language breaks apart.
As if art should aim at science, rigorous, quantitative,
rigorous language breaks tedium. Science vows a part of 
quantitative practice till we should aim “as if” at art.

Till we lapsed into language. As your ancient ages only
fabricate quantitative French strung to that difficult
practice, science speaks of tedium and understood rhyme. 

The spring in service of love’s rigorous vows. April 
pauses, heartsore. You and I, apart. If love should aim 
my words at day, repetition breaks into silence of song.

Copyright © Taylor Graham

Details | Language Poem | |

Foreign Languages

Hearing conversations
Spoken in a foreign tongue
Serves as a reminder of
The folks we live among.

Immigrants from distant shores
Residing where we live
Add a little spiciness
With all they have to give:

Hints of other cultures,
Both alluring and exotic;
Customs that we might just find
A tiny bit quixotic.

When I hear people talking
In a language rich and strange,
I wonder at the meaning of
The words that they exchange.

It’s like a secret code to which
I do not have the key,
And likely what they’re saying
Doesn’t have to do with me.

Yet still, if we could comprehend
A language not our own,
Perhaps the world would cease to be
A xenophobic zone.

Copyright © ilene bauer