Best Prate Poems
The voices in my head spake thus:
"Pray heed a word from all of us
should what we prate to you make sense
as host we deem you somewhat dense
'Tis folly to believe we're real
to banish us would be ideal
we're products of your fantasy,
your own authentic fallacy
We're sexless; neither gents nor dames
pray brand us not with human names.
as playmates we have little worth
we're in your head, not human-birthed
Engage us not in dialogue
stick to one-sided monologue
our sole aim is to multiply
we're occupied, hence no reply
We find you're too inquisitive
and may we say insensitive
to eavesdrop, as you are inclined
(pardon the pun) where you've no mind
And now, dear host, we beg of thee
for some degree of privacy
scant your right to our domain
seek elsewhere to be entertained."
Categories:
prate, funny
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Villanelle: No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
There where you first blink your own coffin you have to nail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Hounded by carnal goals and bound fast by your fate innate
The hammer that pounds the nails in your blood without fail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
The long arm of fate can reach you through the friendly state
The Wanderer has no place he calls home but the un-walled jail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Neither lust nor love can spare the place’s trap or fumigate
The quick flaming grass that traps you on the mountain trail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
You may nurse the cow in you be not gruff never joke nor prate
Nor vie with otherland hosts where other unjust ways prevail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Nor claim the imported god incarnates the only Law in the State
Sack burn pillage and plunder the recumbent host’s Holy Grail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
prate, home, loss, moving on,
Form:
Villanelle
Daddy’s a workaholic...
But what about the hospital stay... the loss of blood,
his ashen dignity
Slight prate about moving into a veteran’s home
Only in his young eighty’s
Workaholics don’t quit
Laboring healthward
So the tiller cranks for cultivating
and the garden is sown,
yet during it's interval of growth
he’s... vigorously active
delivering the ‘elderly’ to appointments
While taking pride in saplings
he's gathering and transporting the yield
And I, plop down on my patio swing
imbibing a cappuccino
Thinking “What a ‘workaholic’ my daddy is”!
Categories:
prate, father, health, on work
Form:
Free verse
Black of night
Light of day
I used to go
But now I stay
Summer heat
Winter cold
I once was young
But now am old.
Desert dry
Ocean wet
I used to freeze
But now I sweat.
Full glass
Empty cup
I once was down
But now am up.
Vinegar sour
Honey sweet
I once was strong
But now am weak.
Fancy hat
Ball cap
I once was lean
But now am fat.
Cool blue
Hot pink
I used to leap
But now I think.
String bikini
Formal gown
I used to smile
But now I frown.
In time
Out late
Time now to end
This foolish prate.
Categories:
prate, humor, nonsense, simple,
Form:
Rhyme
Clanks,
blanks,
cranks,
clash!
Slams in tank,
detours irate!
Ingenious infiltrates,
sojourns knocking,
indignation on the plank,
plutocracy dank!
Dotards are prate,
iridescence is just as late-
prime meridian,
songs obsidian,
and the incandescence great!
Categories:
prate, allegory, animal, crazy, culture,
Form:
Blank verse
He is my mirror,
Just what I wanted him to be!
His smile spreads permeating delight.
His storge love is my strength.
My achievement, my smile, my pride!
My upright and infallible child!
His prates, sanguinity, dreams and ambitions,
Are treasures of my life!
He is a wizard who ignites the warmth a family requires!
Yes, he is my caterpillar, my cute little firefly!
This is about 08/02/22.......the day..... …………………………..He turned back and just said NO!
May be my protective spotlight scorched his vibes.
May be I could not hold his hand tight.
May be I did not understand and guide.
May be my preaching’s were just too high.
If the bond never existed, how would it survive?
May be it was a mirage just to misguide.
The anxiety, the exhaustion does not let me survive.
How would I wipe away those sullenly eyes and exasperated goodbye!
The dreadful departure and my empty nest strive.
How would I get out of this woeful sigh!
Closed eyes and rolling tears can’t decide.
Referee the conflict or may I just hide?
How do I bring him back, how do I inveigle?
How long this saudade will survive?
I still stand here or I have just died?
Without him I can survive, no I defy!!
WORD REFERENCE:
Defy: Openly resist or refuse.
Sanguinity: The optimistic feeling that all is going to turn out well.
Strive: Struggle or fight vigorously.
Sigh: Deep audible breath expressing sadness.
Saudade: A sad state of intense longing for someone or something that is absent.
Inveigle: Using dishonest way to convince.
Storge Love: Affection that naturally exists between a parent and child.
Preaching: The giving of moral advice in a pompously self-righteous way.
Exhaustion: A state of extreme physical or mental tiredness.
Permeating: Spread throughout.
Scorches: Burn the surface of (something)
Sullenly: in a way that shows irritation, ill humour, or gloom; morosely
Exasperated: Intensely irritated and frustrated.
Prate: Talk foolishly or at tedious length about something.
Dreadful: Frightfully.
Infallible: Always perfect and right, without any errors or mistakes.
Categories:
prate, emotions, family, mother son,
Form:
Free verse
I Have No Time for You
By Elton Camp
“I’ve so many important things to do
That I’ve no time to spend with you”
“The inane words you say
Don’t interest me anyway”
“The memories you wish to share
To hear about them, I don’t care”
“My Facebook must be updated
To keep my friends well sated”
“I’ve found a picture to share
I’m so eager to place it there”
“Also text messages to send
To many an online friend”
“Plus, it would be a mistake
My phone calls not to make”
“There’s this great place to go
To view an excellent video”
“Should have time free
I’ll use it to watch TV”
The selfish child continues to prate
Letting parents see how low they rate
In parents’ eyes, ignores the hurt
To words and actions so curt
The years passed by with speed
The child took but little heed
Finally, from the phone to look away
Ashen face great dismay does betray
Too late learning she does care
Her parents are no longer there
Categories:
prate, children,
Form:
Rhyme
COPLA 86 INVOCATION : This Bad Guy World
If Worlds stand still for nano-second
Logic can bind all in straight-jacket :
Alas how nice
There’d be reason for this errand
On Earth as in Heavens to mock at
His artifice
Who is that comet hurtling in space
Looking for answers in mindless face :
Disintegrate
Could the answer be such simple grace
As to stop reproducing this race :
None then can prate
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
prate, conflict, creation, life,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
A poison pen
And a hypocritical conscience
Can so easily be cloaked in
High morality
Prate on
Knock them down
With words
Slay them in the name of
Public opinion
Write on
Right all the supposed wrongs
That provides fodder to pay your bills
With that pen of ignorance
With the ink of ill-will that
Masks all your inner demons
Traduce them all
Surmise
Assume
Prate
Slay
Affect moralistic outrage
The transparency of everyone else’s wrongs
Apparent to only you
Who feels the need to spare no one
And to condemn all
The power of your mighty pen
The deftness of your opinion
Acquires a following
Of feckless drones
Who lift you on high
Parading you as a modern day hero
A champion of the little man
None can see the Janus and Cant in you
Nor the hypocrisy that fuels you
Or the revenge that maintains you
You are a monster
Happy with words of destruction
No fairness
No compromise
No letting be
You are king
But only for now
The short term mind-set that compels you
Will conquer another day
Those that praise will
One day slay
Categories:
prate, feelings, jealousy, society,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Everybody wants to be king
They crown themselves by opining
And can only see everyone else’s sins
Everybody wants to rule
And conquer all with hypocrisy
They prate and condemn
While shielding their transparent sins
So many rulers make for a great din
Where nothing is gained
And illogical arguments create
Sectarian tragedies
It is a heaven for bullies
This cantankerous gathering
Of un-crowned kings
Enemies within
Enemies without
Everyone’s psyche is tormented
They all worry about invisible dangers
That they claim will snuff them out
Which asylum let these mad people out?
God above must
Look down on us in shame
His master plan will one day
Go up in flames
This purification will
Hopefully cast all the demons out
And knock these kings off their thrones
Categories:
prate, judgement,
Form:
Verse
Villanelle: Write only as if this were your last deathbreath day
Write only as if this were your last deathbreath day
As if those words gouged out paper or tape
Words distilled from a lifetime’s work and play
Write only what you think is what you say
And what you think never other lives rape
Write only as if this were your last deathbreath day
Write not to beg for praise or prize or pay
What you write must not want to prate agape
Words distilled from a lifetime’s work and play
Write like wordsmiths who worked for Old Vic play
El Manco of Lepanto fate escape
Write only as if this were your last deathbreath day
Write Dostoevsky’s death on pardoned day
To sink Underground swoon writhe out of shape
Words distilled from a lifetime’s work and play
Ugly Beauty makes Art loudly pray
For poets who blindly abuse Muse’s shape
Write only as if this were your last deathbreath day
Words distilled from a lifetime’s work and play
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
prate, art, beauty, creation, death,
Form:
Villanelle
Some say it really is a beast,
This extract made from brewer’s yeast,
And yet, to me, it is a feast
to celebrate.
The name is French – it is ‘marmite’,
At any meal it is a treat,
What’s more it never can be beat,
so on I prate.
Sustaining troops through two world wars,
Or family snacks with you and yours,
It’s lunch or picnics out of doors
or after eight.
Its viscous texture, brown and thick
Can cause some people to feel sick –
For me it’s nectar, just a lick
will captivate.
On bread or toast with cheese or jam,
With chicken, beef or finest ham,
Or even with that dreadful spam –
to elevate !
No marmalade or jam on bread,
Nor clover honey, thickly spread
Can better that of which you’ve read,
which is “my mate”.
Categories:
prate, food, funny, humorous,
Form:
Verse
They prate
They condemn
They spew special interest bile
These champions of society are but
One-sided and silly
They claim to have their finger
On the pulse of society
But write from the view-point
Of middle class insensitivity
Riots and mayhem bemuses
Corruption and graft arouses
The bad and dismal encourages
Nothing is ever right for them
They hope to influence by hiding
Behind a moralistic poison pen
The untruths and spite they disperse
Seems to know no end
They often show a lack of decency
As they invade everybody’s privacy
Opinions are a dime a dozen
They assess from a myopic angle
Highlighting the petty
And ignoring all that is true
They never praise or say
Sorry we mislead you
No hope is given when we
Peruse the news
Its death
Carnage
And corporate abuse
How would they would feel
If they found themselves
In another’s shoes?
Flam
Celebrity
And Z-listers
Fill up page
We should all refuse
To let intrude into our thoughts
And ruin our mood
Too many voices
Deafen those being influenced
And with the clout
To bring about real change
Politicians and bureaucrats
Are weary of being bullied
And being slain
All is not bad
Some is not great
We only need to await the next edition
To review our fate
A few realise how paranoid we are
A few don't even care
Praise to the man
Who ignores the news
His folly will no doubt confuse
Those whose job it is
To prate and sell half truths
Categories:
prate, judgement,
Form:
Verse
Categories:
prate, anti bullying,
Form:
Alliteration
Love is some thing i entreat
Of which without it my eyes are in the murk of picket -eye lids,
It is a Croft on which our spirits first grub
To then be able sour among the lunar stars.
Some call it cloud nine but i choose to call it divine,
Never likened to the camels of the caravan as
Gradually their necks tarry on the dwindled dust
Till their mouths become a canister of drivel:
Malign,prate and gab.
Fair it is but not as fair as fickle:
Oh yes, leaves turn brown in winter
And Dross gives way for the sinter!.
“All must go in whimsical bearing”
Thats what the clock sings
Brighter is its glass as it is brittle:
To which on wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry:
astounding work of art polished in tears.
He who cares to listen to a messy secret should
Strike the egg first against the wall !
Two loves i bear,of comfort and despair,
My better angel a man right and fair,
My worse spirit a womans coloured ill.
she is my rainbow overhead my sea,
Seven colours painted in the skies
but three shall always sting my eyes
as they are green,red and blue.
As i saunter through grasslands and natures green
I reminisce on how i sang to the trees and shrub
Of her i call my queen.
Yet her iris remains green to a phantom
to which she does espy as a simulacrum of her very being.
Red is what oozes from the Dart
when she hits the bulls-eyes of my heart ,
she burned with love as straw with red fire flamed
but burned out as straw out burned.
Blue is the dark cloudy weather
Where fallen beau Gazes placid to the sea
Faraway the single stag,banished to a lonely crag
To watch birds fly in and out of man:
Mariage is rarely bliss
Wherein a lovers kiss either be felt
Or break the loved ones neck.
Though the face at which i glare in the mirror be cruel,
For year after year it nauseates an ageing suitor,
It has sufficient mass to be altogether there
Never likened to an indeterminate gruel
Randomly placed here and there.
Categories:
prate, friendship, hope, love, work,
Form: