Best Phonics Poems
If I could be a cartoon character
Which one would I be
I thought about being Fred Flinstone
But he's too old-fashioned for me
And then there's maybe George Jetson
A man who knew electronics
Nothing like Yosemite Sam
Who needed to be hooked on phonics
And what about Shaggy and Scooby
You gotta love those scooby snacks
I've never really considered a Smurf
And their tiny little mushroom shacks
Or maybe I'd become a super hero
Who comes to save the day
Batman , Green Hornet or Underdog
Who puts the bad guys away
Maybe I'd live in Jellystone Park
Where Yogi is the king
For Hello Mr Ranger Sir
Is just the funniest thing
When i died, hush bequeathed the Scrabble Board
The once weighty tomes floated off cramped shelves
Whilst married letters argued midst themselves
Phonics quivered sans the vowel adored
O' warm vowel with the prominent dot
Disarrayed lost words bowed their heads and cried
On that sonant solemn day when i died
Shrouding the dot with a forget-me-not
Ill-fated, O' How could i bear such strain
Replaced without heart in a scrabble game
From die to dye, opponents scored higher
Of y's bold encroachment on i's domain
And when i died in Craig, one must exclaim
Replaced by a y, does it create Ire?
Date: 11/04/23
I died poetry contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Hick Phonics - is a language to be taught in all Southern schools.
Here are some excerpts from the Hick Phonics/English Dictionary.
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Heidi - Noun - A Greeting
Hire Yew - Complete Sentence - Remainder of greeting.
Usage: "Heidi! Hire yew?"
Bard - Verb - Past tense of the infinitive "To Borrow"
Usage: "My brother bard my pick up truck."
Munts - Noun - A calendar division.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjah bard my pick up truck and I ain't seen him in munts."
Jawjah - Noun - A state just north of Florida. Capital is Hatlanta.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjah bard my pick up truck.
Ignernt - Adjective - Not smart. See Arkansas Native.
Usage: "Them two boys sure are ignernt."
Ranch - Noun - A tool used for tightening bolts.
Usage: "I think I left my ranch in the back of that pick up truck my brother from Jawjah bard a few munts ago."
All - Noun - A petroleum based lubricant.
Usage: "I sure hope my brother from Jawjah puts all in my pick up."
Far - Noun - A conflagration.
Usage: "If my brother from Jawjah don't change the all in my pick up that thang's gonna ketch far."
Bahs - Noun - A supervisor
Usage: "If you don't stop readin' these Southern words your bahs is gonna far you."
Tar - Noun - A rubber wheel.
Usage: "Gee I hope that brother of mine from Jawjah don't git a flat tar in my pick up."
Tire - Noun - A tall monument.
Usage: "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise I hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris someday."
Retard - Verb - To stop working.
Usage: "My Grampaw retard at 65."
Tarred - Adverb - Exhausted.
Usage: "I jest flew in from Hatlanta and boy my arms are tarred."
Acoustic Shadows 4-8-26 Craig Cornish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acoustic Shadows
As screen doors slam an audible footprint of sound
Echoes in phonics of ice in glasses
And tinkling bells of ice cream trucks.
The solstice ripens
Growing large in the splash of rainbirds
And telltale whirr of hummingbirds at feeders
As humidity buzzes, the breath of summer’s envoys
Sound out a boneless resonance
With chords that tease and tantalize
Alluring in fleeting notes hatching hazy inklings.
Haunting memories of a solstice oratorio renewed,
Veiled in the caress of a mirage,
Reverberate in noisy shimmers of Luna’s fullness.
Ripples of ghostly illusions speak in clues
Like bards of déjà vu
When sounds trickle down furrows of skin and soil
Leaving hints that foreshadow dusky shades
Recalling the hum of warmth in cold bones
And cues that foretell of the season of crickets.
Give me an a.
Add an N and a G.
Put on a B
Take off the G
Tack on a D.
Toss off the B.
Now you can add whatever letter
you want to the engine.
Sand, stand, gland, rand
Wonder why reading is so complicated?
But why are we not teaching phonics?
I am lying in my veins today looking at this
with concern…
Ebony and Phonics
Talkin’ Jive, slippin’ inta the ethnic eccentricities
of survival, hip-hop, rap, the blues, Ebonics.
Ebonics, the melding of Ebony and Phonics
into a language that could be spoken
within hearing of the overseer. Genius
spoken here, clandestine communication
lines strung in plain view. News flashes,
who ran, who escaped, who was sent and
where, who was sold. Assumed “ignorance”
displaying pure brilliance before an unconscious
audience.
Ebonics, a language shaped by hardships and
prejudice, now reduced to phrases and a
chant-like mockery of its necessity and
protection.
Ebonics, a language that preserved a spirit,
nurtured a fierce independence, fed the
flames of rage and the hopes of love.
Ebonics, a tribute to a tenacious desire to
be free, not from the chains, but from
the bondage of the chains. Free to
communicate their deepest thoughts,
their hidden loves, their seething hates.
Ebonics, lost key to railroads underground,
doors no longer found, generations in
search of freedom’s sound.
John G. Lawless
8/16/2014
for Verlena S. Walker
Ebonics – Let’s do Some Slang contest
Forgive me please and don't berate
My dismal voice when I narrate,
The many poems I've written well,
To bring to you my tale to tell.
I like to write my thoughts in rhyme
And find I have an easy time,
To form each stanza with a flow;
My words go smoothly to and fro.
Then comes the time to say aloud,
The words composed to a small crowd.
My voice will crack with croaks and gasps:
A rusty gate, it swings and rasps.
New England twang with words that clip,
Come squirming through my palsied lips.
I envy Brits posh english speech.
Their phonics cannot be impeached.
I practice lines a hundred times,
Until they sound just barely fine.
Then try and try and try again,
But still I reach that faltered end.
So bare with me in my attempt,
To narrate words in voice unkempt.
I'll forge ahead and not give up,
To spout my spiel and fill your cup.
In penning this, yet speaking that;
It's better left where it was at.
On pages written to be read
And not aloud with angst and dread.
People often judge each other according to their speech.
Your accent or your dialect it seems sometimes can breach,
The barriers of some protocol causing them to question,
The digits found in your I.Q. or how much education,
Could be lacking in your life or what could be your station.
Should they include you in their clique perhaps repeat Pygmalion?
Of course! That's it! Oh let's begin!
Oh this will be such fun! We'll take her in, teach her to blend,
Remake her head to toe! Refine her speech and then we'll teach,
Her when to speak and how, through us she'll reach a station close to ours.
But when at last the work is done and they see their creation,
And it's time for your debut, a kind of graduation,
You find that all is all in vain, you've done less good than harm;
For underneath you are still you, your speech is half your charm.
Why not leave well enough alone, to thine own self be true;
For nowhere else in all the world is there another YOU.
Drinking this bubonic tonic
with sonic running through my veins,
making these feelings seem platonic
and the world a bit brighter and better
with these quadraphonic sounds
and with these hydroponic pounds
of this atomic chronic
i'm not so shallow and bitter.
every sound electronic,
and made monophonic,
the dances moves suffer,
all anamatronic
until that iconic bass drop
starts attacking tectonics
with so much Napoleonic rage,
it moves these symphonics
to super, hyper, ultrasonic.
johnny mnuemonic's
not just hooked on phonics anymore,
but instead he's a supersonic supernova
among the stars a Casanova
exploding with the
sounds of natures conics
that would make Pythagoras proud,
the demonic harmonics echo behind him
like a shadow fading as the sun goes down.
A male
A Black male
A thug, a gangsta
pants sagging
stupid swagging
And that's exactly what people think I am:
stupid.
But I break the mold.
When people hear my voice
without seeing my face,
When people see my words
in letters, on screens
what race do they think I am?
But I break the mold.
Colloquialism
I don't use it.
My speech is cool
calm, pure, correct.
Just like me.
Do you know why?
Because, I break the mold.
Ebonics
Ebony and Phonics
Black English
Break away from that slave mentality.
"You talk like you white."
No, I speak English.
I break the mold.
I enter, the smell hits me,
Old oak floors and shelves,
Walking into a labyrinth
Into which I can delve.
I can lose myself for hours,
In each work of art.
From cover sleeve to pages,
They really cheer my heart.
Travel books can take me
To lands across the sea,
Awakening my senses,
Really inspiring me.
I browse the self help books,
The ones on life and healing,
How to get what you want,
Cope with how you're feeling.
Then the history books grab me,
The rustle of each page,
Words that speak to me
From another age.
Biographies and memoirs
Of famous people, celebrities
Tell me of their lives,
Arousing curiosity.
I move on to hobbies,
Cooking, crafts and sport,
Photography and gardening,
Expertise of every sort.
There's shelves full of Sci-fi
Business and economics,
Study guides to aid exams
And books for teaching phonics.
I love to peruse fiction,
Absorb all the blurb,
Tales of mystery and romance,
Fantasy in every word.
I'm excited by the poetry,
The lyrics poems and rhymes,
Some are very special,
I could read them a million times.
The children's sections glorious,
A real treasure chest,
Beautiful picture books
Are the ones that I love best.
You cannot beat the feeling
Of fingers around a book,
The tactility of each page
Just makes you want to look.
The Old Bookshop is my haven,
I love to be inside,
My one and only problem,
My purchase....I can't decide!
Went to my local independent book shop today....my idea of heaven!
Who can u turn too if thing's
Ain't what it seems?
How can u chase a goal if you don't
Have any dreams?
Life a roller coaster
But you have to hold on tight!
Longs you keep your Lord first
I promise everything will be alright
We all battling each other like
Day and Night
Have to make a change!
Soon as I say I'm going to
Make a difference
People start acting strange..
Well life is like a space ship
It goes round and round
Must have something to fall back on
Or you will hit solid ground
You must charge up like new electronics
Make poetry a lifetime commitment
Like you on hooked on phonics!!
ok, mom's right, it's "collaborate and copulate"
that's what I meant to say
i am the mom and when i say
it is right it is and
it is weird and i could
be wrong.
ok. we agreed, we only get 2 lines
and you have taken 4 lines
(and I can't even be poetic, cuz you done took my lines)
i was just trying to save paper
for green for the environment
i was helping you.
Helping me?
Helping me what?
ok, I'm usin more lines
You ain't green! You ain't even fair!!!!!!!
WELL, I AM A protester and i
has a been sitting in trees
a lot, baby sister you better
be nice to your ole ma.
Ok, for 1, you ain't no damn protestor
And you ain't in no trees
and we is hooked on phonics
but we profound
for instance, I done found my lighter
see, i was honest for you and i hired
a surrogate tree hugger so i could
be with you baby sister. duh
Mother, when will you EVER learn to use CAPS?
I know you are honest, and silly, cute, lovable
and you smell good.
But you still broke the 2 line rule AND
if you break the rules, I break them better.... love kim
well,we won't worry about this anymore.
go take a bath...love mom.
P.S. Didn't even get to talk about the copulating and all.... Damn.......
Written by a Mom and Daughter just being foolish cuz we love each other
I cannot put into words
how diabolical this task is – I simply can't hack it!
This morning I burst out crying
as I was wracking my brains trying to focus
and think of a form for this particular sponsor
now I’m going out of my mind with worry
It’s so horrific -
trying to work with a sprinkling of consonants
and using strict phonics
with an aim of making a witty work for folk to follow.
So I’m truly sorry
if you think that this long composition
is just a load of old codswallop!
Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
07/13/20
As I dance through this life,
I hear many songs.
So many friends speak
of rights
and
of wrongs.
I hear the phonics of collective beliefs.
When
I
have set on a new set of streets.
These roads unfamiliar,
yet curious I am
to travel the new way
with my chorus in hand.
My thoughts are the source of my creation.
and harmony
is
my delegation.