Best Aloud Poems
in
mind
to pen,
private thoughts,
imagination's
secret diary of the heart-
personal poems
revealed
for all
to
see
A tribute to PS poets who share here each day
their innermost feelings
How about Carol wears the curtain rods?
That would be hysterical.
No one else got it.
But I am Harvey Korman and I have some say.
Most popular episode in history.
Even Vicky is not as popular unless she is mama.
Vicky as Carol's mama is hilarious.
This show gets better every second.
Then we grab up Tim Conway.
I have never laughed so hard in all my life.
He cracks me up totally.
And we are in front of a live audience!
My days on earth were the best.
Carol Burnett could fall down better than anyone
And get more laughs with just a glance than
All the rest of us put together.
Thinking Aloud
By: Tom Wright
1970
As a young man,
before Christ came into my life,
I had traveled to many states,
But the state that I spent the most time in,
was the state of confusion.
Can
a poem have
no meaning
apparent
to the eye
do we
love
the
euphony
of a
phrase
cadencing
in the ear
ought we
struggle
to
understand
the
enigma
that floats
in the
landscapes
of our minds
to stop
receive and
let it be
a
moment
of
here & now
never
to
reason
where or why
In our inner world of the existential
a heightened awareness in close proximity
with distant dreams.Impulsive moods
once suppressed in the domain of the
denied, embodied now in spoken tracts
Hear me recite from my 4100+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
I want a woman today.
Now! A dog’s cry.
Like the one already has gone.
Wailing thunder
Growling sound
Clutch the earth
As you rumble aloud
ROAR!
Upon the earth
Beyond its clouds
Your frigid hands
Raucously plow
ROAR!
Striking seas
You rampantly avow
Assailing its waves
You beset, you plough
ROAR!
Dreadful thunder
We berate to you now
With more potency
Our voices shalt make you pow
ROAR!
Are you listening? Open your ears
For this is to be read aloud it needs your voice
Because it can not speak on its own...
This is a poem that I'll call a slam
One day I was feeling quite queazy
But had much shopping to do being breezy
No! I will not let a little gassy, nausea stop me
Chewing two tritalac which helps with that gas
It works by pushing all that gas down and outting
Easing the digestive track...A little walking
You know like that morning constitutional
Helps to eliminate all the problems that are institutional
It must have been those beans in that Chili
They got down there and fermented really
Well I went to the garden center at Wally
You know Wally-World and thought that I would look around
There was not a soul or a sound around the grounds
Everything was quiet on the selling front..Not one of the personnel
To talk to or a customer ....I had this place all to myself
With those beautiful plants looking absorbed in the beauty
What is that over there...Let me go look
Concentrating..all alone
Gas moving moving in one great big
Bubble___ pootttttttttttttt
Looked up ...the man I never saw well he laughed.......HAAAAAAAAAAA!
Rolling in the floor laughter....
Embarrassed! Well, I'll let you decide...
(Well is this a slam!)
Soul stripped.
Flesh ripped.
Hope lost.
Time moves on not heeding the cost.
Hurt buried aside in the ditch.
Anger flares like a flip of the switch.
Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.
Soul? The soul dancing??? How cruel...
Mouth ajar in disbelief.
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.
The beat of the soul continues...
Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.
Soul keeps dancing...
Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger,
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.
Mind perks up seeking to undermine...
Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.
The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...
"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.
Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...
The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.
The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"
A sonnet, anecdote,or verse
read by you,
each page of memory followed
with deep hues,
recited in a beautiful tone
I stumble,
the visions stirring on my mind
as you drawl.
Why Poetry Must be Read Aloud
The poet caresses the purity of the
blank white page, seduces it, whispers
to it, teases and cajoles, coaxing
from the emptiness a depth of
solace, the fullness of a lover’s smile.
His words are mined, milled, and
shaped by the hammer and anvil of
his heart. Heated to molten glow by
his passion and his longing to be
enveloped, entrapped, ensnared
in the web of whiteness.
Thus, he pours out his metaphoric
blood, his soul, in words. Words –
words that mar the clarity of the page,
despoil its clinical perfection. Words
torn from love, or pain, or loneliness,
unspoken words yet to feel the breath
of freedom.
So is the secret shared without fervor,
without rage, in lust-less, loveless, agony.
Etched onto the silence of the paper,
hidden in the margins of the white bordered
prison. Waiting – to be given a voice, to
be imbued with the passion found in the
speaker, to echo across a valley, to
be shouted, sung, screamed into the
cooling air of life.
It is not enough to be written,
to fill the emptiness of the page,
for paper has no passion.
John G. Lawless
4/9/2014
No matter who,
No matter where,
No matter when,
It only matters why and what for.
***
Yesterday was early,
Tomorrow will be late,
Today I have no time.
***
You can’t train in a gym?
You want to look young and slim?
Stay close to the old ones and fat.
There are many ways to skin a cat.
***
Sometimes I think:
Here is my happiness.
But after a drink for two
I see that it’s just another experience.
***
I am allergic to Scotch.
When I drink a lot of it
My tongue begins to itch.
***
I am on the seventh heaven!
I am here a baron!
Don’t place a ladder
If you don’t want to be a scrapper!
I will never go down
As I don’t want to be a clown!
***
SMS from someone’s wife:
Went to the place you’ve sent,
I understand what you’ve meant.
Behave here like a whore and ask myself:
Why didn’t I listen to you before?
***
A good thought means a lot.
It’s ****** of the brain
Which you have to train.
If you experience it
You’ll get fun.
Others who imitate it
Just get a mock sun.
***
When we were young,
When we were young,
Lovely nonsense was on the tongue.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Moments of revelation, one to one
hear me recite from my 4100+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms(as the one above) @strandpoet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
From lips of thine I would review
The poems you've written, oral true.
Each breath, each sound, that carries words,
When rhymed together betters birds.
The high perfect' of human speech
I will detect, my ears will reach,
And with the soul of thought for guide
I'll hear YOUR soul and vibe with pride.
Elroy I hear in my quiet I speak alive God believes in me God of sight God saw me he sees me I see I receive I believe it is so so it is I am one of his prized possessions I am his son Elroy I hear in my quiet I speak a lot I am glorious wonderfully made perfect he did say come to him always God believes in me Elroy I hear it in my quiet I speak alone I hear in my quiet ever so still am I no longer quiet I speak spoken heard my voice is roaring a raging lion a crackle of an all-consuming fire I see I believe I receive I believe it is so so it is I am one of his prize possessions how precious also are thy thoughts unto me oh God speak speak to me oh Lord oh God how great is the sum of them I receive your voice speak your words I receive your voice speak your words I speak a lot I receive I see I believe it is so so it is I am one of his prized possessions wonderfully made if he did say come to him always God believes in me Elroy I hear in my quiet I speak now I alive
7/2/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©