Best Silver Tongued Poems
after the painting by Vincent Van Gogh
Does she even exist? Doubting her own reality,
seeing herself vanishing in undulating undergrowth,
fading and merging into summer-scorched scenery.
But cold lurks there beneath shafts of sunlight, phallic trees...
He wears the night underneath, a fabric of dark and unease,
his hand heavy upon her arm, silver-tongued charm
smooth as the silver-limbed leafless trees,
disappearing now on a twisting breeze...
Sinuous stems suffocate, writhing and thrashing;
convulsions of shuddering green and yellow.
Enticed ever deeper into flailing flowers,
evanescing into foam of frothing flora...
Did she ever truly exist? It's doubtful.
The flower-frail faceless and nameless
will always be lured and laid, invisible,
dissolving, under bare, phallic trees.
Categories:
silver tongued, abuse, dark,
Form:
Ekphrasis
You swear your word is solid
as a silver serving spoon
Well, why does it always feels like
another mis-spoken dog day afternoon
Hotter than July
in the middle of June
Cast iron sky
making fainting hearts swoon
Butter pecan words
all dressed up in their Sunday best lie
Preaching our turn to live the good life
will come in the bye and bye
But now ain’t the right time to be asking why
Melted ice cream promises
dripping on our hand
Dripping between the fingers
Two scoops of empty hope given again
Mint chocolate chip words,
supposedly solid as a silver dollar
Ain’t nothing but soft I Scream jingle heard,
making us wanna wipe our hands off around your collar
A gallon of Vanilla bean utterances
all packed down in a pint-sized box
Truth freezer ain’t working though ...
just more soft sugar cone lies given to the poor
Saying you don’t have to feed the muzzled ox
Though laboring all day,
we shouldn’t be given minimum wage pay
Melted ice cream promises
dripping down on our hand,
giving everyone sticky fingers
But please understand,
we ain’t the ones doing the stealing
Stolen dreams, stolen hope —
Two more scoops of soft black walnut can’t-cope
It’s hotter than July
in the middle of June
Melted ice cream promises
dripping ... dripping ... dripping
from your silver spoon
Give me two more scoops of my favorite I Scream
Melted ice cream of broken promise dreams,
giving us Rocky Road nightmares
But you still swear
you really do care
You still profess,
you silver-tongued devil,
how generous you are,
as we keep getting less
Categories:
silver tongued, allusion, metaphor, perspective, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
Don't Fall In Love.
It will seem sincere,
Honest and true.
But in the end
You'll be broken too.
Stay away from them,
The silver-tongued snakes
Because love isn't worth it,
Don't put your heart at stake.
Face of an Angel,
Heart of a demon,
Don't fall in love
Or you'll regret what you're feeling.
Save yourself the trouble,
Heartache and pain.
They'll put up a front of sunshine,
Though they're nothing but rain.
Don't fall for their words,
False promises, and lies.
They'll ignore all your problems
And ignore all your cries.
So whatever you do,
Remember your value.
Don't put up with anything less,
Because your life will continue.
I warned you before
And I'll warn you again
Don't fall in love
Or you'll wish you were dead.
Categories:
silver tongued, break up, heartbreak, hurt,
Form:
Free verse
He stands before us
to deliver
a poem, a prose, a
verse a rhyme, or message.
His manner quite
manifesting,
and his confidence
puts the crowd at
ease.
Soon and very soon,
too soon- we loath
him.
There is
too much cluster on
his magniloquent,
vine, of strung
together
words without
substance.
Though the use of
an, apophasis
gives poetic license
to insult.
we loathe him
instantly.
The silver-tongued
orator's
brilliance, soon
becomes wearisome.
While the mute
articulate points of
his eccentric
ramblings lead us
to dead ends.
Unfulfilled and
burdened.
We now loath him.
The loathsome Bard
goes on to rant
about, degrading
and dissolute issues
of life, which we
felt the
Bard had not
concern.
His bombast
delivery,
to some appears
eloquent,
grand-stand
language, bellowed
out quite grandiloquently
.
Wordy vagaries,
leading us nowhere.
As we listen to the
of his charades, we
loathe him.
Though quite colorful
and pompous; He leave
us in shambles, brains all
scrambled and we
loathe him.
The once brilliant
verse, though
well-rehearsed,
becomes wearisome.!
The Bard,
went not in hard;
We the discombobulated,
pray aloud, “next poet
please Lord".!
We all were relieved
as he finally did
leave, because he looked
better going than
coming.
With our intellect
he was toying,
though the Bard was not
hard!
Most certainly;
He was annoying!
Categories:
silver tongued, funny, humorous, imagery,
Form:
Limerick
THE HAUNTING
Entombed behind isolation's walled prison, a haunting
Malice has so trapped me within, evils chamber of the forsaken.
It crouches beneath shadows shroud, its leering eyes pierce,
Through the darkness’s pitch black covenant of the night.
A pacing beast, anticipating my movements, mocking my
Feeble attempts to evade this frenzy's tormentor of darkness.
Deceptions deceiver, silver tongued weaver, spewing lies
Deceit, intricately aligning its widow makers webbing,
Feasting on innocence betrayal.
Heckling laughter echoes against dead reckoning, a chilling
Appetizer is my soul of innocence, as if pleased at malice's intent,
Fiendishly, delighting in torturing its human pet.
A vacant numbing feeling over comes reasoning,
A deeper anger begins to rage, rebelling against hatred's
Horrifying entity.
Motivated to survive beyond my spectral captivity,
Hear me disgusting creature, I shall destroy thee,
Leave me alone screaming aloud, sanity's domain gives way.
In musty halls empty hollows, an odorous stench fills mine senses,
It speaks unto me, cease mortal miscreant, none leave here alive.
A deepening realization rushes against the conscious mind,
I'm deaths play thing, to be pounced upon, a toy mouse, captured
Between claws, extracting, retracting at whims invoking.
Invisible hands grasp, choking life's breath away from me,
Feeling every heartbeat slowing, quietly ceasing.
A stinging pain rings within my ears; death has claimed me at last.
Oblivion's muted dead, never part shall we, my lips are so tightly closed,
I can't scream with horror's terror anymore.
Let mercy's fallen be forgiven, released from beyond hells hidden
Regions a place devoid of spiritual salvation, foul demonic spirit
Haunting madman's kingdom, it whispers to me in sweet melodies
Aftershock, now we begin!
You truly belong to me, with satisfactions grimace, the creature smiles
At my deadened corpse, with satisfactions pleasure, the jackal reveals
Itself unto me, the demon himself, called the devil, thus stands before me,
And now I know the shattering truth, I am the forsaken.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
silver tongued, dark, evil, fantasy, gothic,
Form:
Free verse
2, 000 people in this God forsaken crest of a town
Am I the only one to keep the balance
To count the half second before midnight
To bring philosophy to a women's monthly
And call it quits
You don't know
And you could never be there
Cause when you're there
You're down
Betrayed by wet seals in vast grocery markets
Betrayed by the heavy weight of a manicure
And beaten down by the harsh scent
Of the after sex
Too cruel to shake it's fuming head in our direction
But too serene to keep you shaking
And why why would anyone want that
6 people in this God forsaken house
God doesn't even give it the right to call it a home
God sends it with two teeth and an ugly birthmark
God doesn't grant the wishes of a ten year old
On her two knees praying for her savior
And wringing her lungs of tears 'till morning
And you could never be there
Cause when you're there
You're shivering from the cold
And a swollen belly that's been empty for days
Empty of food water sleep and comfort
Empty of God's infinite grace and empathy
And why shouldn't you be for the things you've done
The naughty things a ten year old does
The sticky curious findings we shoved in our mouths
And why why would anyone want that
4 people on this God forsaken island I call my mind
Sylvia the silver tongued snake
Vintent the red breasted songbird
And the man whose name is not to be mentioned
Myself the whole idiotic lot of me that dances with thought
We're counting the days off 'till new year to give up our one last dream
And you could never be there
Cause when you're there
You're different
And the silent squabble of thoughts isn't enough to get you off
And people pride themselves on a trait they can never achieve
And you're the whisper of this town this house this mind
Marooned by an entity of passion
Separated from the depth of nothing big but neutral
But given freedom in a red dress
And you could never be there
And God why would you want to
And God from a ten year old a sixteen year old
Why why would anyone want that
Categories:
silver tongued, angst, childhood, faith, teen,
Form:
Free verse
Tall tale possessed
Dark heart held ransom
Handsome silver tongued
Slang sucker-punched
Black his blue eyes
Wince at nothing
But truth testified
Categories:
silver tongued, angst,
Form:
Free verse
the tongue is just another muscle
gives strength to what we think
amidst life's daily hustle bustle
helps thoughts to words interlink
so the father with his mother tongue
speaks to progeny generations come
lessons learned to offspring young
good ways to live, his rule of thumb
still would wince at his tongue lashing
flinching, blinking, cowering and meek
if shouted anger from lips came flashing
'stead of old man's jokes, tongue-in-cheek
but before I become too tongue-tied
some tongue twister squarely knotted
I'll place my tongue-in-cheek aside
to address these words I've jotted
and tell of my admiration for tongue
no forked tongue falsehood to relate
some silver tongued notes clearly sung
of glossa tongues and hooks and baits
that lovely lingual muscle hydrostat
can do things fit for moans and groans
I can hint, alluding to this and that
of things we tongue like flesh and bones
I think you'll agree with my observations
presented to you, from my mind sprung
and think of your own tasty applications
many things budding the tip of your tongue
© Goode Guy 2011-07-04
Categories:
silver tongued, food, funny, health, nature,
Form:
Quatrain
Entombed behind isolation walled
Prison,
A haunting malice trapped me within.
Crouching beneath shadows shroud,
Leering eyes pierce.
Through darkness’s pitch black,
Covenant.
Pacing beast intercepting motions,
Movements, mocking my,
Feeble attempts to evade frenzy's,
Tormentor.
Deceptions deceiver, silver tongued,
Weaver, spewing lies deceit.
Intricately aligning it's widow,
Makers webbing,
Feasting on innocence betrayal.
Heckling, laughter echoes, against,
Dead reckoning.
A chilling appetizing, as if pleased,
At malice’s intent.
Fiendishly, delighting in torturing,
It’s human pet.
A vacant mumbling feeling over,
Comes reasoning,
A deeper anger begins to rage,
Rebelling against hatred’s,
Horrifying entity.
Motivated to survive beyond spectral,
Captivity.
Hear my disgust, creature,
I shall destroy thee.
Leave me alone, screaming aloud,
Sanity's domain gives way.
In musty halls empty hollows,
An odorous stench.
Fills mine senses,
Cease mortal miscreant,
None leave here alive,
Shudders blood runs cold down raw
Veins nerve endings,
A deepening realizations rushes,
The conscious mind,
I'm deaths play thing.
To be pounced upon, a toy mouse,
Caught between claws,
Extracting, retracting at whims invoking.
Invisible hands grasp choking life's,
Breath away.
Feeling every heartbeat slowing,
Quietly ceasing.
Stinging painfully ringing at ear,
Shots quivering,
Oblivion's mute murmurs never part,
Lips tightly closed.
Let mercy's fallen be forgiven,
Released from,
Beyond hells hidden regions,
A place devoid of spiritual salvation.
Foul demonic spirit haunting,
A madman's kingdom,
It whispers to me in sweet melodies,
Aftershock.
Now we begin, and you truly belong to me,
With satisfactions grimace, it smiles.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
silver tongued, dark, death, evil, fear,
Form:
Free verse
A mountain of grounded rock reaching to the skies
A rabbit burying into a whole
A pig building a house of straw
Why, concrete little pig, brick and sweat
A tree, untrimmed and ungainly
Buzzing insects, foaming with diseases and the chance of death
A mound of sand
A sand castle
A poor sign of engineering
Yet fit for a queen
Build straight pathways, not curving halls little ant
Your purpose is there, it s your efficiency that is in question
Take note from the concrete, the velvet and the vibrating
The ironman working the ironworks in the ironmine
Purpose, purpose, purpose
He earns her iron dollar
They raise their iron children
Time rusts their flawed iron hearts
The silver tongued king rules his copper minded people
The golden patience of time rules the silver tongued king
The velvet soft lover wrestles with the friction of passion
The ninety nine year old Nazi is killed for his crimes
The copper minded populace cheers
Some shed fake diamond tears
And we spin our web of lies
Our empire of cobwebs, time formed truths
Threatened by the subtle breeze of our patient host
True diamond patience of Earth
So the philosopher asks
Riddles with himself
Earth hast no purpose but to be
And to be without purpose is not our way
Yet we unfurl our carpet in its chambers of torrents
And build our houses of straw, and build our mountains of steel
And we expect to persevere
So this purposeless world
Moulded of chance and mutation
It sits by, without reasons to impede
It sits by, as time hammers at its walls, a purposeless measure, the ticking of a clock
The clock ticks, yet the batteries have long passed, the maker long dead
Still we build; a raging force in the calm of chaos
The solidarity of this fortress called earth, the permanence of its chaos
Is challenged by a rusty blade
The blade rises against the mountain, no eyes to see the foolishness of its act
Its precise slashes chipping away at the uneven granite
The blade chips, the dead clock ticks
The mountain sits
© Samir Georges 2009
Categories:
silver tongued, imagination, nature, people, philosophytime,
Form:
Free verse
Oh! How it must have looked back then
How you looked oh so small
As you gazed into your future
In that mirror on the wall
Family is as family does
And God knows that we need 'em
But that image in the glass ahead
Is the doorway to your freedom
Like old worn boots, you walked that path
With a voice like liquid gravel
The easy way, was not your way
You chose the road less travelled
It's hard at times to stare into
A face that's done you wrong
But that Silver Tongued Devil, sometimes
Sold your Soul out, for a song
The image misted over
'Til there was no you, no more
The dust, it lay down heavy
On that Mirror, on the wall
Though at times you felt forsaken
In your vision of tomorrow
Your faith remained, unbroken
You proved stronger than your sorrow
The Shadows, in the darkness
Lead you closer to the fall
Your distance from the Mirror
made your Heroes, seem so tall
We watched you from a distance
As you seen your image clear
And small we stood, yet plentiful
We held your vision dear
At last we see your happiness
A Soul without a blemish
No more a time of emptiness
Content, in your own image
Your life, a Golden Spiral
Equal in its distortion
An Infinite Holy Wonder
In its own Divine Proportion
Categories:
silver tongued, hero, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Spare me the goof,
O dear Captain,
Hear the rattling mess tins,
My dear old kit bag,
Worn out in action,
I lost my hold-all,
The spare drawers’ cotton,
A half-full water bottle,
Almost emptying my Haversack lunch,
The sun is scorching,
The camouflage is withering,
The cover is blowing out,
Silhouetted we crawl,
The impetus is gathering, hell no,
The attack is uphill, so soon,
O dear Captain,
Silver-tongued Captain,
Think so fast, so fast like never before.
Categories:
silver tongued, hero,
Form:
Light Verse
The River of life
The mountain ice gave birth to a river
Crystal clear down rapids that were an ecstasy
Of sexual pleasure smoothing rocks
Foaming of joy let it never stop do it again
The stones said.
But some waterfalls were not so silver-tongued
Ending in eddies of resentment.
The water became corrupted by overuse as it
Reached lowland of temptation
A wide flood running slowly towards the ocean
Where it will be clear again and regain its innocence
Alas, it cannot make the journey once more.
Categories:
silver tongued, confusion, cool, corruption, crazy,
Form:
Blank verse
Our life is as evanescent as the
trumpet flower of the morning glory.
The merest chapter in the history
of mankind’s ever compelling story.
Various serendipitous ramblings
ultimately contingent ‘on quarry;
retold to captive audience in tones
melodious as silver-tongued lory.
Redolent of an evening-scented stock,
with a crown of wispy hair as hoary,
we insist to recount all endeavours
in its minute shocking details: gory.
An experience that's unsavoury –
remnants that cross river Styx in dory.
Poetic form: XAXA Sonnet. See my article, Introducing Three New Sonnet Forms, here on PS for more details. Also, a 'Summary of Metres' is depicted.
Categories:
silver tongued, death, extended metaphor, life,
Form:
Sonnet
A milk bottle of combustion is a silver tongued spoon. A dragon headed fortress underground. Weaving wavering waving wandering. A teaspoon of cataclysm in giant catacombs. Dominatrix circles and whirlpools. How very stylish Madame de feetoo. While festooned on a chaise long is a long time whilst chatting and chinking is rife. Apples didn't mix with pubic pubescent pineapples as lineage is deemed of the utmost importance. To preserve one's wealth signifies a heraldic crest in a pickle colour glow. But wisest are the tiny heads in jars preserved who whisper their knowledge in scientific chambers. Cloisters closeting closing cloaks. And a large duck head on a man's body lurching lecherously. Leaking. Leaving. Lest no one fault I the time orb of clayon spoke a boulder boisterously. And a dark ridge arriving. Completion is formed from the sipping of secretions from an ancient elderflower. But a bud is neither a woven skirt or a large car. It is found on a very big bus. Busy then? Good. Small boy child weeping. And a silver glasses case watching. And an ornate cane topped with an acre of crystal. Chink then. Great isn't it. When the news explodes the crisis deepens. And waters rise. The hidden submarine planted it's crop paid by coffers. In a sporadic format. Boom then. No idea for the ways. It is left for the duties to a house to perform. And a ministerial magenta. Magna carta is a a little peanut swimming in butter on a plate. And a dust particle is very very versatile so swing in trees then spin over. Good. Grabbing going glooping getting gone gone Gideon gone gone. Powdered like snow or sugar floating. Sap not a silvery spit. And a spotted tie is not very mature is it? Takeaway beans. Fantastic. Very flavoursome. Opinionated officials oversee offices. And a giant bee weighing over 200,000,000.00 kilos. In a fancy dress show. Xo xo xo and done. Xxxx rationalisation xxxxx outnumbered xxxxx testator gator Gatorade xxxx arbitrational Z
Categories:
silver tongued, best friend,
Form: