Best Vague Poems
My top ten will always be my fingers and toes.
One more makes eleven if you’re counting my hose.
Oops, was that a Freudian typo, I meant my nose.
Without my top ten, couldn’t walk or flick off, if I chose,
let alone spray water on my favorite red rose.
Perhaps I could think of more if I juxtapose.
But then the numbers would inflate when my list grows.
I’m trying my best to enumerate with prose,
getting back to the theme before my mind forgoes.
Maybe I’ll set it right after I repose,
easier to see when I’m not wearing much clothes.
Too late, said I, as I continue struggling to compose.
I feel like a lawyer who is about to depose.
Glad I’m not a doctor known to misdiagnose.
Now that you have read this, I’ve something to propose.
The run around I gave you had nothing to disclose,
cept maybe wishing it was in polyphonic prose!
*For the “Top Ten Contest.” Joe, surely I jest!
I kinda, sorta want to talk about people who are vague.
It’s kinda really important to be clear about what you have to say.
To ramble and sorta kinda talk all hazy will never sound o.k..
It’s better to talk in black and white than a puffy sorta grey.
I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, it’s important to be clear
About what you’re tryin’ to say, and what you want people to hear.
To LOL someone or say DBD then tell them BRB
Is kinda sorta really crap when you could be more, like, wordie.
The Oxford has heaps of words, bucket loads have heaps of meaning
And to sort of replace them just with letters is kinda sorta demeaning.
Dumping on kids from spelling bees that had to study their grammar,
They got replaced by kids tryin’ to talk kinda like a poetry slammer.
So next time you’re sort of having a chat with another kinda person,
Use words not letters and speak kinda clear, kinda like you’re rehearsin’.
Because the letters sorta have heaps of meanings kinda like a heap of phrases,
It’s better, I reckon, to use real words, and it helps fill up the pages.
You said you’d wait forever…
I never saw when forever passed me on the streets…
You said you’d love me forever…
The other day, your love walked away from me…
You said you’d always be there for me…
Where are you now…
You said you’d always be in love with me…
And now, your just vague memory…
Lost
Murky
Ashen smoke
Vanishing gaze
Vague
Muse
Striking
Silver chimes
Vision true, sharp
Clear.
3/02/19
For Light Up the Page contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
In the holes of your face there are two sapphires,that is making me all desire. All my words,are vague,my silence is vivid.
Many words are latent ,but love is my only holy word,my latent words can be like a sword,but my holy word can change the world.
I’m starting to admit it
to the people
who will try to talk me out of it.
At least they get it.
Smokin’ and drinkin’:
the two things I do best –
persuaded my inhibitions;
had tight lips singin’.
A beautiful song;
the way it came out.
A communion of secrets,
right or wrong.
Critique On This New And Vague Form I See
I simply can not do this new, empty and vague poetry,
what in the living hell does it give?
Perhaps a glimpse at failure and insanity disguised
or utter stupidity that dares to live!
I long to see words that mean something tangible,
such as human needs,thoughts and even sad good-byes.
Not this crap that is chaos and thus so inflatable
ripped with foolishness and massive, vain lies!
Give me clear words of hope, love or even deep hate,
the kind that one can touch, taste or feel.
With all the stored knowledge it is not now too late
to again find and taste poetry that is real!
If any are angered and this poem thus deeply offends
consider source, poet that has grown tired of "pretends".
Robert J. Lindley, 1-15-2015
Note: The more that I read the "say nothing crap" posted on other poetry sites and how its highly praised as great, the more I want to vomit.
Can these people ever be made to understand that poetry expresses thoughts, feelings, imagination etc. in a coherent way but always with a "message"
ingrained in it, MESSAGE SENT AND HOPES THAT THE READER PROFITS FROM THE READING..
Writing " very deep" is one thing but they are just writing chaotic pap and calling it beauty and fancy names IMHO.
I 'll get straight to the point,
I won't be vague,
They try the worst of criminals at the Hague,
For crimes against humanity,
Murder,torture,ethnic cleansing, but three.
But my question is, " why are there not more,
Crimes against humanity the bad should answer for?"
Because there are in this world,suited bad men, the worst,
Who have created all of the investment bubbles,
Which they then for their own gain burst,
To create most of the economic troubles,
That the world is fighting hard to put right,
Yet these same scumbags plot each day and night,
To blow up the bubble of their latest scam,
With the controlled acquiescence of good old Uncle Sam.
How come they are not in the dock in the Hague?
Or is this a question for politicians, too vague?
Tom Higgins 03/08/2012
Granules of recollection rub like salt
Flailing in the fog of seven years ago
Deafened by incessant frog cries
Vines dangling began attaching to each other
Drying river stagnated, slime slippery with algae
Vigorous tree growth stooped in defeat
Muddy river banks fixed my feet, prisoners
Quick sand sapped my energy, ate my memories
Spears of bygone javelin my lungs, make gasp
Emerging from the mist of six years ago
Mountain side incredibly steep left me breathless
Static crinkle hissed between my eardrums
Channels flip changed without my inference
Hard luck hollowing trunks of high altitude
Offered to swallow my past, kindly include present
Flattened cushions of childhood fights , bring distance
Spinning cartwheels into oblivion of five years ago
Faintly flickering home movies startle between grins
Marbled images depict how we were, junctions punctured
Paths deviated, split decisions, moments distilled
Bottles broken, options poured, down the sink
Faltering swell glimmers foaming overdrawn fantasies
Slices rewound reflect fleeting of four years ago
Head barely above, awash in nonsense, victim of tides
Pushed under and pulled above, or is it more apt
the other way 'round, heavy, ocean surrounds drowns
Pencil case zipper obediently conceals, shoved down
Fragmented fragrant shavings of three years ago
Greyed erasers took too much, left the wrong stuff
Coloured stubs refuse to function, shrink upon prompting
Mirror tells me glamour remains against toughest test
High eyebrows, pristine lip lustre of two years ago
Marilyn wink in the blink of camera, busy filtering truth
Tree hugging Boho took over, appealed to populus ideal
Cocaine sand between toasted toes, garland encircling forehead
Currently I'm languishing in roses
bestowed by crown of thorns
* * * * * * * *
A vague shadow,
Of my former self,
I shroud my face from all beating souls,
Outcast,
Turned away from society for outrageous ideals,
Censorship,
Now I lack heartbeat,
And soul.
A desolate disposition
Remarkably remote
A silent, nagging tension
A prickle in my throat
A heavy hearted sorrow
Debilitating weights
A fear for each tomorrow
The trials that may await
Isolated troubles
Breed in solitude
Keeping safe, my bubble
Has become the thing I do
No one will ever know me
I’m acting all the time
It sure gets awful lonely
Beneath these lies of mine
Last night when the first
snow fell I was hovering
on the doorstep of
yours anxiously and
wringing my hands without a
dare to knock, even
my voice was laced by
unspoken poetry and
only stuttering
came out of my mouth.
I wanted to act; to love
out loud and fill the
space in between, but
under the shadow of a
doubt this void was made to grow.
Two hearts entwine in ecstasy
Fantasy of impossibility,
Where acceptability from parent
Is vague and blank ,
But their love is deep
Full of passion and emotions,
Two teenage hearts fused together ,
Blind to the world,…ready to fly ,
Oblivion of their future..,
Education….
Love lifted up ,others relegated…
What will put asunder ?
Maturity…or religion or class…
It looks like a mirage ,
And on the other side oasis in arid land .
3-28-2017
he spoke dramatic: speaking truthof an uncertain future.
He gave remedy and spoke of it's cost. They laughed and boo'd him
They saw need to divide their loyties from rasionl thought.
"A tommorrow uncertain is adventure for adventurous people": one
spoke."You doomy fool go back to the books", another voice said. I listened from the radio in the kitchen, not knowing what ws said here would change the way we looked at the tommorrows yet to come!
I have some trembling hands;
I can scarcely type a word.
The Age of Pessimism has passed
Like the sweeping dress of a ballroom dancer
From another passed time,
So we find ourselves in the
Age of the Vague and Fearful.