Best Loquacity Poems
I think I know the Name of Purity,
It is Your Name -- it holds clear water well!
A Chalice carved almost to shattering,
A white rose, that alone, grows in the dell
With drops of ice adorning its still face
The warmth of heart that comes with falling snow
The few flakes that adorn your lashes, by grace
Delightful cold that creeps up from below
Loquacity that speaks only the Truth,
Amazed by every small, delightful thing
Ubiquitous praise and unbroken Youth
Right Trust, that gave your finger to the Ring
Inevitable Joy, and whispered Love
E'er faithful, that this all is from Above.
2/11/2019
Submitted for: Standard Poetry Contest 175
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Rendezvous
Folly or fact
Wondering, Waiting…
Whispering winds foretell
Thunder soon will follow--
Pulses electric sing through my belly
Joy Wasp-Darts
tzzz
Escapes via fingertips
tzzz
Expectant Ears
Pitch pipe tuned to his melody--
Whispering winds foretell
Thunder soon will follow—
Waiting, Wondering
Footfalls and folly
Oh…
Marvel of grace
Lazy rivulets of words--
Shimmer thru his lips
Sizzle and pound twixt ions
Wind wickedly round my thirsty heart
Flood-startle the drought of yearning
Splash my Nile delta to color
Kissing the sated sun--
Marvel of grace
Ah…
©V. Anderson-Throop 2015
wife’s loquacity
spouse turns his hearing aid off
silence is golden
Senryu Contest
Sponsored by Mick Talbot
7/6/18
Oh my she said what loquacity to speak to me that way in short she was being short which to me is puzzling with prolixity with her haughty grandiloquence to say what I find garrulous Her opinion also me thinks to be concise rhymes with logorrhea I apologize for my dear lady for any misunderstandings on your Part to be precise and to the point I am going to drag this sokal affair out into the open with all the facts with such verbosity that you will get the dust out your dictionary and contrary to public accurateness read and understand the word and not change it to appease itching ears Disclaimer I was not in intentionally trying to harm anyone I hope no one was hurt by a seemingly long rant
Found on a pedestal, or hold, loneliness bends to isolation.
For silent walls to speak so comfort, felt with validation.
Feel the waves of silence as apathy chills you to the bone.
Few relish in self-centredness, or a self-sufficiency cloned.
Imagine all the comfortless-ones lost in the system’s cracks.
Nothing is as crystal clear for deeper introspection’s facts.
Sorrow, the time you’ve taken, you’ll not be here tomorrow!
Loneliness makes awkward quirks of intentions so shallow.
Life dies inside when there’s no others willing to befriend.
A non-existing of self-worth which begins to condescend...
There’s no pleasure without communication for possibility.
Opaque gray clouds can permeate, hiding love’s true validity.
What good is skilful listening for loquacity, or laryngitis?
It's like slapping a bandaid over the colour of Yellow-Jondus.
Sadness comes when we're forsaken by those sadly threatened.
As empty fellowship declares to annul its claim to rescind.
We were tired of living,
But weren’t sure of leaving.
To them, we portrayed an incoherent loquacity of a nervous Mong-er,
Committing crimes, living in abject poverty and dying in hunger,
Yet, their thoughts put on the panoply of killing.
We have been around this neighborhood,
But never had a chance to act with the Nollywood.
Their cameras were always on us like celebrities,
Not for good but to show the world our negativities,
We die daily, yet, we didn’t break the brotherhood.
The sound of their guns do thunder in fury,
Dwarfing our ambitions, then our visions blurry,
Then like vicissitudes of wind and weather,
We still adjust our lives like buckles on leather,
And wish to survive the tears of outraged vanity blinding us in a hurry.
We are from the black race,
It’s evident in our bloods and my face,
Let the black man enjoy freedom truthfully,
Because the decision to be free is taken freely,
I think I have already set the pace.
An Stewart Chekiri Everestus's Poems © 2019
Eternally Lovely now,
The Bride of my Dream of Gold.
And rolling down grassy slopes,
Whose smiling heart ne’er grew old.
Eternally Helpful, too
The Braid in my burgeoned beard
That round my loquacity ropes
And sees that I’m rightly reared.
Eternally wise and kind,
The Bread of His Life and strength
The Child of the King of Hopes
The Lifeline of endless length.
She rides through the ethers now
E’er calling forth clouds of snow
The crying child, helps, as he copes
Wherever his troubles may go.
And so, I have finished my tale,
Except the Divinest part
The poor fool who grumps and mopes,
She JOLTS by her Heavenly Art!
I am praying for an eternal silence,
Your loudest move is just another offence.
I have been open to you for the longest period,
The interpretation you want to pursue is just making you an idiot.
I have never been so close to a clown,
I have never felt so wilfully drowned,
I cannot express the audacity to call you an unthinkable pride,
I cannot have the gratitude to be your undying guide.
I want to lead a life of the fullest norms,
You are just an unknown necessity that I have always seen in silly worms.
You are full of loquacity,
I am nothing to your pertinacity.
You want to judge the desecrated smile of Monalisa,
I want you to draw a similar structure on your countenance.
Everyone might be perplexed,
I don't want you to be suppressed.
You might not be a cenotaph of the transparent authority,
I don't want you to be that bargained mendacity.
I want you to walk through a thousand rivers,
To me, this river Life is nothing but a remarkable caricature.
Opining On Sacraments Of Self-Ordained Loathsome Sacredotalists
When the rascal dons his garments of meerschaum shade
with loud mendacious voice he covers his mugwump cries
Waving a banner of loquacity, expostulations are made,
and he assumes a 'Forma Pauperis,' as greed's vault denies.
In presentation of false reliquary for one's honor as trade!
Using syllogism as a vituperation of feigned intellect
and as a tutelar shield of humility's penitent remorse
it courts hypocrisy as siren's call of beauty select,
to claim unyielding progress upon an Elysium course
as a wizard of unerring wisdom and not one of neglect!
Stealth, Facilis descensu Averni, as a liquefied shield
and a Hydra guise as foreordination of divine might
claiming Ichor flows within a brave heart that never yields,
lives in an impenitence state, as guards against truest light
as Frankalmoigne 's holy grip over heaven's flowering fields!
Such a worthy magnificent truth, as bears repeating:
a discourse on frailty and weakness of dark, fallen souls
as canon of doctrine on those that seek truth's defeating
while proclaiming angelic shine to reach such wicked goals
they that garner blinded praise, while devilishly cheating
When the rascal dons his garments of meerschaum shade
with loud mendacious voice he covers his mugwump cries.
Waving a banner of loquacity, expostulations are made,
and he assumes a 'Forma Pauperis,' as greed's vault denies.
In presentation of false reliquary for one's honor as trade!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-24-2020,
Allusion,
( What The Owl Knew Of The Hidden Dark Within Mankind's Blinded Souls )
Note: This is the final poem in the five part series...
Whether the future presents itself as generator of
inspiration to ink along these lines is yet again to
be determined. If so:
Then ink shall fly,
do not ask why
for life is brief
rude acts must cease
those with no shame
Oh Echo why, did she beguile.
Queen Hera with loquacity.
Thou mountain nymph whose winsome smile
Did mask Zeus from complicity
With sylvan nymphs, his sole desire.
Those dalliances once revealed
Set jealous Hera's heart on fire.
Echo was blamed, her fate now sealed
To never speak, till others spoke.
And only then, those last words said.
Then bite her tongue, or she would choke.
This punishments inside her head.
A woodland hiding place she found
In solitude and loneliness.
One day she heard a youthful sound.
His voice her lips, it did caress.
Then " do not hide " Echo replied.
This paragon of many charms,
Bemused he said " please do no hide "
When Echo ran towards his arms,
Narcissus cast her to the ground,
Extolling death, to her embrace
As from her lips, his words resound.
She disappeared without a trace.
To wander evermore alone.
Those mountain caves were her domain.
Soon blessed death, turned bones to stone.
Her voice was all that did remain.
8 / 16 / 2025
Neither for majesty
of erudite loquacity
nor for elegance
of literary superiority
does he deeply crave
to gain mundane popularity;
but truly gifted he is
with the eloquence of silence,
the dignifying humility
and grateful reverence,
the persuasive power
of quiet truth, his best defense.
gripping images
lucid word art on paper~
loquacity barred
Wonder why dearly creatives are really gruff
Ponder artists fright...why they're in a right huff
As if their plight wasn’t nearly hard enough
Now AI picks alright clearly nicks natives stuff
Copyright blight.. tight AI guys fight with trite guff
Won’t share …it’s unfair…don’t care..life’s tough
Your ”off the cuff”.. they lazily buff.. crazily turn to fluff
Like a stranger getting your lover or wife up the duff
Red hot bot rot danger is rife but still they will just bluff
Strife..this lot don’t give a jot ..another blot we must rebuff
Muster the puff to bust their bluster..off they trot..play rough
Stand tall..together they’ll fall..grab by their neck’s scruff
As sagacity…loquacity.. bodacity & veracity techs nab & snuff
Authentic becomes drab identikit wrecks..cultures these vultures scuff
These AI fingers lingers in everyone else’s pies…Nuff is a Nuff
Yep and I can hear in my ear.. dear old.. Brian Clough chuff
“That’s Bloody rubbish”
AI guys lies..snaffling then raffling is baffling…but surprise surprise in the buff…it’s total shruff!
hush
a still quietude
of
whispers
this
absence of sound
muted
soundless
unspoken thoughts
in
a noiseless
vacuum
a wordless
world
of empty
tranquility
cocooned
with
intangible
trancendence
a lifeless
void
in
a
taciturn
reticence
of
loquacity
Ex pat Pom loving aplomb & many a flickering F bomb of the OG.. GC at the G
No spin larking bickering barking larrikins clearly hear the din of fans chagrin
The culprits the ex players pundits in their pampered and champered pulpits
I want baggie green spleen to be vent outside the oh so privileged pro tent
Your spectacular curvy vernacular is the quip fillip in times so topsy turvy
Cricket’s pervy badgers nervy starved of nuanced narratives..like Test scurvy
The game increasingly nihilistic your ballistic bants & rants..holistic chants
Sycophantic semantic antic relishing & cherishing your loquacity, audacity..
Bodacity & sagacity…got them by the gizzards with your verbal blizzards..
Rapacity of skits & gambits..tenacity of wits...our own proverbial Oz Wizards..
Coz boys your ploys are the everyman not fancy dan talisman of fan elan….
Joy envoys of odd bod sod the cricketing Gods run roughshod pod masterplan..
Your reffing gift wrapped in effing & jeffing.. a bucolic vitriolic frolic & tonic!
No fibs his nibs is loving the cut of your jibs….this old timer rhymer pondered
Wondered does cricket's ultimate bastard..The GC.. like Lord Kitchener.. need me..
Saluting a highfalutin cultural calling card.. your own Bard as two become three?