Best Loudspeaker Poems


Besotted Legs and Trampled Shadows

Daddy comes everyday when the twilight
Bifurcates the light into shadows
Like a miscreant, grasshopper
Intrudes into the cracks of walls
Mom became a vociferous loudspeaker
Alcohol staggers inside his belly
Like the movement of snake.. 
He never came that day
Mamma's hand freezed with 
Wheat flour and dough
My rapacious belly was ready to suffer
Starvation.. And I thought
Where did Those besotted legs and trampled
Shadows go? 
It can't go to some other pastures
Some other homes, 
It can't slap some other shoulders.. 
Myopic eyes often started to sew the dress
again enhancing the sartorial elegance.. 
I missed those shadows hued with that 
Of pickles and spirit.. 
Still I proclaimed:
Shadows have gone.. 
Light is yet to come... 
Life is yet to start
© Sneha Nair  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, addiction, anger, betrayal, death,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Derby

Through the days of blistering toil.
A murmur of spirit after a blissful
trial.These were the emotions on this
endless day.Minutes later in single
file, were prints from hoofs in the
muddy soil.While easing toward
drudgery and withdrawal.The amazing
thoroughbreds entered their stall.
Jockeys clambered onto their colts.
As they were trained superbly, for
the oncoming derby.While over the
loudspeaker the narrator spoke.
Calling out numbers for only who was
there.Consider a victory and the
triple crown.Ready to gain-gain an
inch of ground.Thoroughbred racing
was the name of the game.Where
hesitating was nothing, and no
one to blame.Where multitudes of
spectators impatiently waited, for the
master racers to open the gate.A
photograph finish ended the race.
Beaten by a length-a length out of
pace.Was the thoroughbred racer
in second place..

The Derby Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1982,1987..ALL rights reserved..
Categories: loudspeaker, horse, race,
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Spring Is Coming Soon

Sweet, spring wrap your arms around me,
Place me in an emerald forest, green;
Rain, gently fall and make my world clean-
I run through a wildflower meadow carefree,
Narrow trails beckon me to follow their labyrinthine;
Gamboling, frolicking baby ducks play on a pond aquamarine.

Ice cold storms are gone away,
Such delight- the song of a blue jay.

Cajoling, coaxing mother duck tries to keep order,
Oh, in this nirvana there is no clock . . . 
Melodious forest tunes like a symphony by Bach-
Inside this forest nature blooms in manic disorder
Nearby, on a branch the call of a hawk . . .
Getting tired-  I rest on a sunny rock.

Shasta daisies sway and dance-
Oh, I am a travelling pleasure-seeker,
Oh, flocks of flying birds call to me from a loudspeaker;
Nothing is more beautiful than a spring happenstance . . . 

__________________________
March 18, 2017

Acrostic Rhyme/Spring Is Coming Soon
Copyright Protected, ID 885372 

Spring Is Coming Soon- Acrostic
sponsor, Laura Loo

First Place
Categories: loudspeaker, beauty, spring,
Form: Acrostic

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Bluestocking

"Bluestocking"

Blue blew in 
like the truth
in many different
shades 

one tried 
immersing in 
shades of shadow
but the light was louder

Blue blew in 
like a neon sign
flashing its underside
like a stocking’s ladder

the terminal 
loudspeaker 
for departure 
was like a shot 

of Uranian Blue Piñaq
arriving not soon 
enough, 
knocked back

some kind of 
heady celebration

exits 
arrivals

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Categories: loudspeaker, blue, muse, mystery,
Form: Narrative

Death of a Christian Science English Teacher

i remember well the name of my 11th grade English
teacher---
Ms. Tominson,
who had been rumored to have given
some of her students
********, during the time when she wasn’t lecturing on
Shakespeare---
perhaps it was the passion in her that
let her go wild after hours,
drinking with her teen pupils &
then sucking them dry---
but what led to her decent into
christian science,
one may never know---
it was a part of her life kept secret,
an insanity that only she knew &
when she fell down her stairs
(or so we were told),
she refused medical treatment,
lying in bed, unable to move,
hoping, no doubt,
for “the good lord’s guidance”---
but it never came,
um, pssst…..
(whispering) because “he” never does
&
she died TWO MONTHS LATER.

when her death was made known to us
over the loudspeaker,
in early morning home room,
those who had been rumored to have been 
pleasured by her,
had conflicted feelings, 
because though they still wanted blowjobs,
they were sad to see her go,
for she was, after all, a good teacher &
a fun person,
despite having been brainwashed by the 
absurdity of Eddy.
Categories: loudspeaker, life, , 11th grade,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Urban Morning Sound

hear others out there, just beyond my wall-wrapped sharing space
  they break on through, sneaking inside my head
  far above, front-nosed pilots point high-flying seated people tubes
  passengers squeezed in tight, some feeling dread

  as jet engines cloud-buffet, amplifying reverberations
  chimney-chambers funnelling their muffled sound
  momentary fear spills downward into the peaceful living-room
  then gone, soon forgotten, on journeys bound

  clank and clang, lift-arm lorries crawling slowly by the gateway
  sin bins scooped, coloured cravings half-consumed
  cascades of clinking glass crescendo, bottle-bank vomiting noise
  rapid cadence, ambient drone resumed

  programmed heat, timed with boiler clicks, powering-up, igniting
  cold metal creaks around expanding joints
  curtains swish, blinds roll open, bleary blinking, homely morning eyes
  aural sequencing as the day appoints

  distant yowl of hooter horn, duly departing commuter train
  car doors slam, abrupt jarring intrusion
  gauntlet-running mothers compete with pavement-blocking pupils
  fumes linger, safety scarring delusion

  radio din, depressing electro-magnetic compression
  shovelled earth beside the thin blaring-out
  men again dig doggedly, patching patches for the umpteenth time
  careless strike, gushing hiss of waterspout

  road tyres clip, manholes rattle, drum the brief mid-morning lullaby
  rise and fall, the doppler siren speeding
  two-wheeled tiny engine buzz, irritating as it nears the ears
  loudspeaker hails, vies for votes its pleading

  post person presents the parcels, delivering rat-a-tat-tat
  cats scurry as scratching dogs lunge and bark
  then sudden bang, spread-eagled pigeon, wingspan on window-pane
  stunned, fluttering, hoping to reach the park
© Ian Love  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, day, Lullaby, morning, sound,
Form: Verse


The Night Freedom Died

Heritage enclaves of my memory
dissolved away ...
Disappeared the night my freedom died
I woke up the next day,
		my liberty completely necroticized
Seeing my new reality
		     thru dead tyranny zombie eyes
No more freewill;
just a mindless shuffling along,
doing whatever the public broadcast loudspeaker says
Eating maggots of putrid propaganda
	rotting in empty kiosks
The whole democratic terrain
looking like burnt out, overturned dumpster bins
Trash of former protests strewn everywhere:
		Posters, T-shirts, lots of trinkets
Sad scenes of survivalists giving suicide embraces
	to each other in CDC issued blankets
A virulent strain of fascism has swept the land,
a democracy eating pestilence 
Airborne swirls of tattered newspaper — 
remnants of an extinct free press,
	drifts windward towards the sky
As I look uncaring 
	with dead tyranny zombie eyes,
having no recollection of the day before
Not remembering the night my freedom died
Categories: loudspeaker, death, freedom, metaphor, society,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Helloooooooo!!!

Bridge across planets
Loudspeaker to universe
Can you hear my heart?
 


for Gareth's Contest: "Familiarity Unknown"
Categories: loudspeaker, imagination, life
Form: Haiku

Going Home With the One You Came In With

In the pew in front of me,  two gray heads, 
backs bent forward. The woman straightens her jacket 
over the bulge between shoulder blades, a ruby 
rosary resting on the seat beside her. At the Peace, 
they kiss like lovers they once were, but gingerly now, 
practiced at it. Directly behind me someone sings 
with a loud, shrill soprano. Challenging the choir, she 
knows all the words, her confidence unshakable. 
I wonder did I escape observation, discretely 
placing my fingers in my ears.  

At the back of the church, a baby gurgles, 
then escalates into a wail. The priest leaves 
the Holy Grail to quiet a loudspeaker gone viral. 
The baby's allowed.  I'm envious of a sheer 
black dress a young woman wears as if 
she had been born in it. There's no 
Confession today.  I need one. I'm in lust 
over two tall dark-haired guys visiting from 
a nearby high school, their tour bus 
parked prominently in our lot. 

Our pastor (not an Indian priest, a priest 
from India, says he) shares his homily, 
some syllables washed out, his accent strained 
through a colander.  He's Billy Graham 
in liturgical dress, so passionate his preach 
that despite the needy baby, the evidence 
of tenuous youth, the young studs 
just out of reach, he makes me believe 
when my time shall come, I'll go 
Home With The One I Came In With.
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, blessing,
Form: Free verse

Agent Arkansas 90766 Beta (Part 4)

[90766 Log 004]

7/18     20:15

[recored audio]
Nate-- see you on the other side.
Agent-- See you later little bro.
(air let out from the Air-Tight pilot cabin)
BETA-- Multiple hostile forces are in the area
Agent-- What? That's not possible-
(gunfire)
Agent-- Nate! Get the hell out of here.
(return fire)
Agent-- Go! Go! Go!
(engine sounds)
Nate (over loudspeaker)-- We have takeoff.
Good luck out there.
(gunfire stops)
BETA-- Those are gunmen for the Association: Rank 2
Agent-- Why are they here? New Athens is a Federation
city not an Association city.
BETA-- Records indicate a successful Associate siege.
Agent-- So we just walked into an Associate city and 
killed two gunmen.
BETA-- Correct.
Agent-- ...And our only way out just left.
BETA-- Correct.
Agent-- O.K. I'm going to need more than this pistol.
BETA-- There was a Federation barracks half a 
kilometer from here. I'm not sure if it's still there.
Agent-- It's better than nothing...
Categories: loudspeaker, war
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Golden Beans

I sometimes have cruel nightmares 
about losses unbearable.
It's like my subconscious 
just sits back planning 
what could really get to me, given that 
ordinary monster nightmares are fun 
and fail to make me wake up feeling horrible.

Elsetimes my subconscious 
seems merely to be writing comedy skits.

Rhonda and I were in some public auditorium 
and I couldn't stop farting. Loudly. 
A notice came over the intercom 
announcing that someone had stolen 
the extremely valuable gold beans. 

"Our golden beans have gone missing," 
said the loudspeaker, 
as a long noisy fart eases out of me. 
I look around and say, "What? 
I didn't take your gawdamn golden beans!" 
FLFLFLFL!!!
Categories: loudspeaker, death of a friend,
Form: Free verse

That's if you want your soul

Providence rode,
I land
On the island
To learn its code
Of conduct, as
taught by Mr. Rhodes,
emeritus professor of jazz,
etiquette & odes

He says it's like an
Amorphous Z,
a
venomous ignominy
that obfuscates your
vexilology
& depletes its logic,
tantalizing a tarantula
with ubiquitous uppity.
It's the maximum malfeasance,
that not even the twerp from Antwerp
can't tolerate
& you've to wait
& weight
like a nincompoop;
only to finally realize
that it's not real ice!
where it was now saying the end & over the
loudspeaker
'cause you've got the upper hand
mortified & mired in mustard...
& we'll stop this last snow soon as it gets here 'cause
I don't know... how
vindictive vultures vituperate my vitality,
but i do know why 
Providence rode,
On the island
where we learn to code
with such a bland
lack of malice
But amidst the wonders of this digital tapestry,
you savor the licorice;
that's why nobody was pulling them 2 down &
whopping
like a cartel in Lemuria,
like a gland goading glaciers,
'cause you've to UNDERSTAND
what happens down under. Stand
for vociferous vehemency once
& for all! Providence will dance
& now you know it's your chance
to allow your true self to enhance
& take me back to Montpelier
where I belong, "why they hell there?"
you ask. 'Cause in this heat
you' II get the slice of poison
you always craved,
the mental perturbation
you always cherished,
where cultures entwine, in a dance profound.
let's make profligacy & prolocution abound,
because only you've the right to control
your mind. 
                     That's if you want your soul.
© Ivor Kos  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, absence, anxiety, art, health,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The First Sin

An Earther hath said

Adam was a rough draft, Eve

was the final yield

Abel and brother Cain was

the product of their own sin


*The 'Earther' was probably a known feminists as she had a tiny following present along with her. She was outside of a church (she says she's not a member of) espousing the above, constantly, using her natural voice--no loudspeaker, as services were ongoing (I was just a passerby on the way to a funeral nearby). In her repetitious rant, she says that she only wear bras on Sunday's, whereto, 'twas a Sunday and she proved it by wearing her bra outside of her blouse in view of passing children and leering unsaved men. This was in the San Francisco bay area circa 1980, after Moscone/Milk assassinations and Jonestown and prior to acknowledgement of AIDS. They were the saddest years of my life.


Date: 06/14/2019
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Tanka

Premium Member There Is a Masked Bandit

There is a masked bandit in the produce aisle.
This went over the loudspeaker in the grocery store.
It was my neighbor Whitey, who wants to hide his smile.
He has bad teeth, maybe not even one any more.

I use Covid as the excuse, he told me one time when I thought to ask.
I told him I would love him no matter what,
They coppers came in and demanded to know about the mask.
The police left him alone, I was glad of that!
Categories: loudspeaker, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form: Rhyme

Indian Floods 2018

“Floods! Floods!! 
Quick! Quick,”
Blared the loudspeaker:
“Just five minutes to flee.” 

Mobiles? ATM cards?
Jewels? Documents? 
To hell with such!

Gathering the kids,
Picking up whatever the hands could hold 
They all fled.

Blood…blood… O+
Quick! Quick!!
Oh, but the religion?
To hell with it!

To be—that is the question!
Religion? 
Nonsense!

*****
© Ram R. V.  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: loudspeaker, irony,
Form: Free verse
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