Best Languages Poems
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;
Poignant
I Am A Book
By David J Walker
I am a book of Unread pages
I am a book
I am a book Written in stages in
A travel log On a road called Time
With the foreign stamps Of Passport Ministers
Checking my credentials along the way
I am a book
I am a book Of unread scripture
With the lectures on faith
In staggered chapters and the
Tattered chronicled collections of
Odd jobs We have asked of a Loving God
Written in a foreign language
I am A book
I am a book Of erotic poetry in
Pictograph albums Scrutinized and analyze
Then censored By holier than me censors
I am a book
I am a book With pages numbered
And then sealed Its secrets to be
Revealed in full on an unannounced
Judgment day with Disputes left in the hands of
A Divine Defender
I am a book
I am a book
To be colored Everyday
Where the lines do not matter
Only the hue and The view
In which you see me
I am a book
I am a book Not to be left On the dusty shelf of
A forgotten library Rarely opened in a
Distant history I am a book to be read
And even if misunderstood To be savored
I am a book
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.
continents apart
unique souls filled with blessings
bless one another
make the globe a better place
encourage love peace joy hope
Turkish
kitalar ayri
Kutsamalarla dolu benzersiz ruhlar
Birbirini korusun
Dünyayi daha iyi bir yer haline getirin
Sevgi baris sevinç umut tesvik
Arabic
alqarrat almubaraka
alqarrat biaistithna'
alnnufus faridat maliyat barakatih
yubarik bedhm albaed
jaeal alealam makanana 'afdal
tashjie alhubb farih salam al'amal
French
Les continents bénis
continents à part
Des âmes uniques remplies de bénédictions
Bénissez-vous les uns les autres
Faire du globe un meilleur endroit
Encourager amour paix joie espoir
Chinese
dàlù fenkai
dútè de línghún chongmanle zhùfú
zhùfú bici
shi dìqiú gèng meihao
gulì ài hépíng kuàilè xiwàng
Italian
continenti a parte
anime unici pieni di benedizioni
benedica l'un l'altro
rendere il mondo un posto migliore
incoraggiare l'amore di gioia di pace di speranza
Spanish
continentes separados
Almas únicas llenas de bendiciones
Bendeciros los unos a los otros
Hacer del mundo un lugar mejor
Alentar amor paz alegría esperanza
Hindi
isake alaava mahaadveepon
anootha aasheervaad se bhara aatmaon
ek doosare ko aasheervaad
duniya ek behatar jagah banaane
protsaahit pyaar shaanti aanand aasha
German
Kontinente auseinander
Einzigartige Seelen mit Segen gefüllt
Segnen einander
Machen den Globus zu einem besseren Ort
Ermutigen Liebe Frieden Freude hoffen
Creole
kontinan apa
nanm inik ki te ranpli avèk benediksyon
beni youn ak lòt
fè glòb la yon pi bon plas
ankouraje renmen espwa lapè kè kontan
Norewign
kontinenter fra hverandre
unike sjeler fylt med velsignelser
velsigne hverandre
gjøre verden til et bedre sted
oppmuntre kjærlighet fred glede håp
Dog Gone Languages
All dogs bark except the Dingo
Humans think they know the lingo
But truth be told – reality
It’s a different sound in each country
In Arabic – hau-hau, how-how
Armenian – haf-haf
In Cantonese – wow-wow, wong-wong
Bulgarian – jaff-jaff
In English it’s arf-arf, bow-wow
In Malay it’s gong-gong
The Germans hear wuff-wuff, vow-vow
The Thais just hear hong-hong
I’d give you more but that’s enough
You need to know this other stuff
Dog barking has one common vice
A dog will always speak it twice
No matter how we hear the bark
Between two dogs it hits the mark
They seem to understand all others
Better than we do our brothers
Mdailey 11/28/12
I know six languages,
The one I write in
The one I speak in,
My mother’s words,
My father's verse,
And those of my brothers.
My mother speaks quickly
In baking terms and 80’s slang
She speaks in sewing materials,
Starbucks orders,
And references to Bon Jovi.
My father speaks with nature,
I just happen to hear him.
He converses with trees,
And pebbles worn smooth by time.
His language is filled with bar chords,
Childhood lullabies,
And culinary jargon.
The words he shapes are crafted by knowledge that I won’t admit I see.
Two years younger than me is an entirely different language,
Though one I understand.
Covered feelings form a language
I used to know quite well
Spoken in anger
Or begrudging hope
He lives in a pixelated world
With his eyes glued to a screen
He speaks in accordance to what is thought,
Usually not his thoughts guiding his actions
Strict participant in social norm,
Too much is said about what he hasn’t done and not enough about what he has
The youngest speaks in an entirely
Too innocent language
One I have come to detest
For the unwelcome flashbacks it brings
I don’t speak his language
Doubt I ever will again.
His quick words are full of legos,
Cartoons,
And Kung Fu Panda.
His actions are a reminder of a song I have forgotten.
I speak in limericks,
Dramatic monologues,
And Iambic Pentameter.
My words are full of colors and grasped by few
For they float by much too quickly
Full of mentions of J. K. Rowling
And pop culture. My wonder is stuck
In the impossible,
For I have yet to believe it is so.
I speak in song lyrics and quotes.
My words are full of grudging resilience,
Quick wit,
And sarcasm.
It does not matter what language we speak,
Or what percent Irish we think we are,
We are alike on what matters,
Like our love for literature,
Our patriotism of Gryffindor,
And our intrest in politics.
The languages we speak tie us together,
They are what make us unique.
I reduce myself into smaller categories
Speaking languages I don’t really know
Spreading my wings in different places
Multiplying myself in countable numbers
Just to do several things at once
Nothing is really done in the same time
But I do it in the same time of my life
I speak the language of Music, of poetry
Discovering and awakening the Do Re Me and Rhythms of fluency
I speak the language of Friendship and devotion
Spending my time with friends and devoting things I really admire
I speak the language of Disrespect and hatred
Of the many things I did, this I am not proud of
I speak the language of love and loyalty
Converting actions into feelings and feelings into actions
I speak the language of pain and enduring
Suffering the events, enduring the results
I speak the language of Eyes and spirit
Understanding things’ reasons and the connection with the soul
I speak the language of Revenge and right
I fight for what is taken, grabbing my right
I see through God’s sign
I think before I act
I speak the language of life…
As a kid going to Private School
We learned many things being numerous source tools
We would often take field trips to various places
Each had its own individual spaces
One particular event was the United Nations
It was known with communicating with and establishing that with the world
We journeyed in what makes the United Nations in what it is
We had a Tour Guide from India who told us about the UN
Then our tour really started to begin
We entered an auditorium behind a sturdy glass
It was made to muffle the sound of silence much like a mask
We were at a General Assembly with a headset and Interpreter who spoke
As a kid, we learned that the UN was a serious business and no joke
Well things started to heat up with strong intense verbal use
It was becoming more like personal country abuse
Countries upon countries telling each other off
You could say defining with no meaning
The Interpreter literally stopped translating
Because we were 12 years old, Security demanded that we take off the headsets immediately
Later we headed for our school bus and journeyed back to our destination
It’s amazing how things are done all with a little persuasion
The United Nations with its own special blend, and my story that has come to a complete end.
Good old COBOL's stubborn, sure
High-level FORTRAN still endures
FOXPRO, SNOBAL, ALGOL, and BAL
Did not compute, that's why they fell
Your face haunts me everywhere I go
Arrows pointing in all different directions
There's greater things out there for me
I just haven't found them yet
I'm not signing a contract
I'm not choosing a way
I'm following how I always dreamed it would be
Oh Mamma Mia, time to live my life again
No more Planning
Children are so sweet
They speak different languages
I can still hug them.
© Kathy Mary Gillet
© January 11, 2007 All Rights Reserved
The love language of my deeply beloved love and companion,
whom I miss when we're apart,
me waiting like a dog at the window;
my partner, my life, my rock when all times get rough, my tool girl, behind which, lies the mysterious power;
that dog again breathing deeply the odors of hope through that window with barely a smudge.
The idea, the research, the recommendation, the implementation,
like it or not, are working. The right tool for the right job.
Her Voice carries: through a towel drying there, through her table where she sets our plates, plates hungrily waiting, though you'd never know it.
Her complex thoughts are transformed, compounded within elixirs of fragrant love and craving with tender needs for validation and praise for love well-done in crispy-sweet light brown bacon just how you'll like it.
Her Voice whispering softly through my ears, her toes touching me for warmth.
Her hands then combing gently through my hair and softly and firmly massaging into me her gazes and whispers of love.
Her willing warm give at my touch, says, "Come with me to a world of Oneness."
Summer promises with blue eyes
Some passing fancy for the multitude
Some half remembered ritual,
But never speaks of love - or love's desire.
And we are contraband in a stolen moment;
Empty cradles rocking in an empty room
Pastel whispered endearments to sleeping ghosts
Who wax eloquent on nothing much
When awake
To while away some twilight time.
In the languages of flowers
Placed down for style in human terms,
Infinity lives in an orchid corsage
Pressed between the pages of a book
That has no lock and lays forgotten...
No lasting worth beyond the last dance.
And the languages of flowers are misspelled forever;
How much stronger in their meaning when first bestowed.
The silence in their words fills the air with fragrances
That last far beyond the memory of one summer's evening...
No matter how special
However far away....
In all the sweetest whisperings,
Why ask how this can be...
It probably has something to do with the warranty.
I know that the world that we live in is not perfect
But prejudice does not go along with my policy
I have lived on the Mexican border all my life
I speak Spanish, maybe not totally correct
When I need to make a point they understand me
Cuts down on a lot of strife
Several years ago, I was not in the best of places
A bunch of Mexican men drinking beer, a white guy comes in
He had just got out of prison, gang tattoos , 666 and KKK
Looked at me and went to making faces
With the attitude that white was the only color of skin
I knew that he wanted to pick a fight with me, that is their way
Made the remark, he did not like me speaking Spanish
He had a long beard that went to his belly button, like ZZ Top
Then he told the Mexicans there, "Don't trust this old blue eyed cowboy"
Hell, he is re-fried on the inside, wonder if he speaks any English"
Looked at me and said, "How you doing Pop"
But thinking it was me he was wanting to destroy
I got up and made my way to where he was at
I said, "Now don't get all grizzled up and want to fight
I came over to congratulate you"
"Now what do you think about that""
"You heard me speaking Spanish and you don't think that is right
"Well Mister, you speak two languages too'
He got a surprised look on his face and said "I only speak English
This is America and that is all we speak here"
I said, "Yes Sir, you do speak a little English I must confess"
"Because you are to lazy to learn the language, don't bad mouth Spanish"
And let me make another point clear"
"The main language you speak is a lot of BS:
Ro manse languages were once all the rage
But Mandarin's now taken center stage ~
Flankry, I can't stand it
The Chinese are bandits ~
It's rike leceiving kick in reft libcage