Home » Poems » Best » Language

Best Language Poems | Poetry

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

Search for Language poems, articles about Language poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Language poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

New Language Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Language poems are below this new poems list.

Sign Language For Toddlers Please by Krutsinger, Caren
Liquid Language by Connell, Carol
The Language Of Words by Riabi Dziri, Besma
The Dreaded Language by Krutsinger, Caren
The English Language by Trim, Nick
Body Language by Marty, Lyva
Hurt From the Spoken Language by Hunter, Daniel
Language Of Love by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Do We Speak Your Language by Krutsinger, Caren
Shadow's Language by Sands, Heidi

View all new Language Poems

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!

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."

26 July 2015
The Doesn't Fit Contest
Sponsor: Carol Eastman

Details | Language Poem |

The Word

In the beginning was the word
Before that, no noun, no thing
Then no sound was ever heard
And no passing bell would ring

So therefore no adjective was needed to describe it or deplore it
No preposition required to be positioned right before it

No verb to do something to it or say what act it was pursuing
No need for an adverb to describe how well or badly it was doing

Since not even one noun existed, conjunctions would have been redundant
There were no things to act on and to move across the face of the fundament 

So the first word there had to be - was BE, and that was the very first in existence
And from Genesis and Eden to Elsinore, it has had a remarkable degree of persistence

Now, in the Oxford English Dictionary which is venerable institution
There are 171476 full entries of words (2nd edition) all capable of elocution

Of these, about one seventh are verbs, therefore there must be around 24497 give or take, to enumerate all action
And that should be enough for even the most garrulous to get some satisfaction

This is a limited calculation and I wouldn't want to be tied down to it 
We can be more free in our estimates so while we are about it, we might as well do it

It seems that once BE had been exercised, the dam broke and words poured out as from a cornucopia. 
And verbs would soon exist in an abundance enough to carry you from here to Ethiopia

Except in the culture of youth where it appears this multitude has been reduced to the deplorable "was like"
To them I am tempted to say: "Learn some real verbs"; OR I would employ a phrasal such as
 'On-your-bike!'

The possibilities are now endless particularly if you include the phrasal
Giving us enough elan vital to at least maintain a metabolism basal

So to whoever first said BE, whether God or someone with similar propensities 
though another name or description:
I say Well done! I couldn't in my wildest dreams with a wish to create a rich life and culture, 
have produced a better prescription

Details | Language Poem |

Now gone

No good mornings
No good nights
You just know I'm fine
And it's killing me inside

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

Details | Language Poem |

FREEDOM OF THE WRITTEN WORD

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.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Language Poem |

An Echo Through Time

An Echo Through Time
 
An echo through time follows all now in kind;
It’s the moment when poets find their rhyme!

Past-Present events give us a mirror to see from,
Of what Present Perfect events have now become.

Poets must write to truth what surely they mean;
With such wondrous verses the reader shall glean!

Writing with tone, tenor and syncopation is grand,
Giving poets that mellifluous effect desired by plan.

The echo quality of a great poem bespeaks its passion,
Whilst its literary panache shall always be in fashion!

An echo reflects a poem’s true resonance by intention;
Ensuring one’s mind shifts to an intellectual dimension.

Poets’ rendezvous with this echo through time is divine;
It helps us enshrine our thoughts now in continuous time!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 27, 2015 (Rhymed Couplet)

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”).

Details | Language Poem |

Voiceless

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.

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

Details | Language Poem |

Jeeeeez

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

Details | Language Poem |

The forgotten language

Mystery symbols in our dreams
Are night's telegrams with strange themes
To grasp the message
Of what these scenes presage
The ancients knew decoding schemes


Author's note: Our inability and lack of desire to interpret dreams in the "modern age" is partly the result of our reliance on reason and science.  Our predecessors would be shocked at how illiterate we are when it comes to this skill.  Eric Fromm's book with the same title as this poem makes this exact point.  It is unfortunate that modern man can not properly decipher these gems of information from the subconscious.

Best Language Poems | Poetry

New Language Poems

The Best Language Poems

FEELINGS

Language Barrier

Rhythmic Perfection (anapestic trimeter)

Broken English

Dance With Me

Let Me Translate

Speak My Language

Captain 'effing' Flint

Of Snow And Ice

Me Thinking, B Thinking

Wales 1 Germany 0

The Color Missing

Shawty Got Swag

If Languages Were Instruments

Growing Up With The Language of Kings

The Word

Now gone

Broken English

FREEDOM OF THE WRITTEN WORD

An Echo Through Time

teach me in a dream

Voiceless

Sleepless Nights

Jeeeeez

The forgotten language