Best Verbatim Poems
There is an abysmal void in the hollow of my breast
where once my heart pulsed, now weak and weary.
I cannot quell emotions your death has repressed
since our cord of silken threads has come unraveled.
Malaise in my heart leaves me cold and dreary.
I long to embrace you on the doorstep of time,
never allowing it to deprive me of you again.
I ache for the warmth of your breath on my nape,
and inhale the virile scent of you that lingers.
From these cherished memories I seek no escape.
Chilled are my nights, even beside the fireside,
while reading romantic sonnets you wrote.
I can quote your verses, every line in verbatim
but the sound of my voice in an empty room
leaves me yearning for silence, death by garrote.
I swear I hear your steps over thresholds I cross.
Wisps of your hair remain in your bristled brush.
Your laughter seems to float upon the air,
and your footfalls tread upon the creaky stair
until I whisper, "It's not him. Hush, please hush."
Dear memory, how long shall you torture me?
Each reverie, a dagger thrust to its hilt in my heart.
Answer me, when shall I live a life of quiet repose?
How long shall I be haunted by the illusion,
of the man who vowed we would never part?
Timid is my approach to the room's tenebrous corner.
With his vestige close, I cling to him in the night.
Our shadows dance. In his arms, I'm swept away.
With each swaying step his presence I garner,
as we waltz across the room in the glow of moonlight.
November 26, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon ~ Mile 21 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Dramatic prose for the pompous asses
I throw my Platos at you
If you come any closer
I will Socrates you right in the nose
Demands, demands!!!! The clowns now have demands?
I say, rise up oh poets of the infinite dot universe
Proclaim the revolution a new
Justify our fight with words wrapped in doo doo
When I see a condescending donkey trip on his verbatim
I laughs cause I know he will fall into Satan's den
I am at eleven, usually a sober man
I carry my saber high and shout "Ekphrasis I don’t give a bloody damn"
Infinite ............................ Universe
There was a time.
There was a time
When your fabled dreams
Seemed honest
A time when
Your open arms
Coated in dented silver and tainted dreams
Understood my Size 12 shoes
When the world seemed to be against you
Yet, still,
Your blunt eloquence welcomed me home
Then, your “rainbow”…
…shat
t
er
ed
Your heartbeat became an arrhythmia of petulant theatrics.
Your topaz coated spit
Released from refilled white-out bottles,
Brushing away quartered moons of an iridescent shame
A copycat of robotic muses
Infringing upon your pedestal,
Turned loud mouth, afflicting broken tongue
The “Stalin” of a messenger’s wit,
You raised your voice to a poignant sky!!!
And, as if Yahweh cured your muted disorders,
EVERYBODY HEARD YOU!!!
Including me
That was your goal…
…excluding me
From incipient edge, I witnessed you,
A turpentine puddle in front of a confessional booth
On a melancholic Thursday morn,
With ripened glares to avoid your hallways
Tangled, dangling pacifiers as your doorbell
...
There will come a time.
There will come a time
When social feeds will deprive your vexing smile
Of validation
Where ignorant heartbeats will awaken
Through lyrical epiphanies
To see your “rainbow”
As a faded, stolen crayon
Where flirtatious dialect from withered accomplice
Licks cubic zirconium’s aftertaste
Forgetting that karma doesn’t tolerate one-night stands
For me, that time is now.
Then, I knew who you were.
Now, I know who you are.
You are not what you say.
A false advertisement in Sunday’s illiterate paper…
…with erased verbatim amongst your mirrored peers
Remembering how you falsified truth’s smile
Dire requests for empathetic warmth of our yesterdays
Yet, my Agnostic coat could never be thick enough
For your saturated, dual face
©Drake J. Eszes
so ...
demanding
she told me to stop
to stop 'thinking like a poet' ...
but what the hell did that mean?!?
she added unto, thusly -
'stop creating Tolkein worlds' (verbatim)
that hit home ...
any other fool with a pen would take it as compliment
but I knew her too well ...
I knew exactly what she meant
and kindness was not the dish being served
'you are not so tragic as you think', she informed me
'not so heartsick as your dragon kingdoms' ...
'or their celibate heroes' ...
(my vision and ire, flooding red)
but I am a poet, you see
not by choice or motive or even pitiful circumstance
and 'twas so easy for her to say
as my heart thrummed for naught but her
and her heart thrummed ...
for him.
You pretend I'm Adam
lying "Eve"
My love songs all yours
you believe
Stalked me on Soup
until I went away
I'm hurt by the news
you're back today
Changed your name
a hundred times
But I can spot
your kind of rhymes
Cause most of them
are copies of me
And even my comments
now all can see
So I've got nothing
to lose... to you
Will TPS punish me
if I prove it's true
"Eve TMC"..
you're a thief, you're a liar
Your Soup Mail letter
revealed sick desire
On Poetry Hunter
you take my writes
Stealing my thoughts,
it's not all right
Plagiarism is a crime..
backstabbing "Eve"
I'm exposing you
if you don't leave
~Lyric Man
Note: TPS may suspend me for calling "Eve" out, but she will not push me out of Soup again. She is one of two people who stalked me here and in my personal life. Just yesterday, "Eve TMC", cut and pasted my comments verbatim to one of Silent One's poems, "Shores Of Uncertainty" (both comments on page two). How does anyone steal comments and then post them to the same person? You got lazy "Eve" or you're pure crazy!
I'm a nice guy and wish "Eve" no harm, but I'm going to protect those I love Fiercely! "Eve TMC" may disappear today but she'll be back tomorrow as someone else. She's had five or so names in the month I've been back.
'Twas a timeless and starless era of dense obscurity.
But there! a self-perpetuating luminary--the deity:
Being of old, the first around.
No one knows his age... those numbers abound.
His name subdivides into many.
He can be called by any.
This entity subsisted when nothingness was.
Those infallible feet trod elsewhere made not of mass.
Thunderous lighting flashes he emitted amongst the black void--
the boundless space which was devoid
of the natural lamps now in the heavens--
That sky, base of his majestic havens.
This infinite Universe...his realm,
and it's inhabitants, for ever whelm.
The GOD nearest ministers--Angels, Seraphs, and Cherubim
execute his will verbatim.
These celestial citizens reflect the Omnipotent's refulgency
which allows their physiognomies to remain in juvenescence,
'cause they are the Patriarch's offspring--
Spawns of the King of Kings.
The Matrix of Life molded them and respired in those nostrils immortality.
Personal witnesses are they of his unique ability
as the Creator and Sovereign,
whom decievest not, nor feign.
Thier kindled eyes contemplates the magnificent Physique of Jewel--
The Source of Life which radiates life's fuel--
The Energy animating all living creatures
from since the moment he formed their features.
That Glory Supreme reverberates an elegant nimbus with spectrum,
thereof, the resemblance of his glow pierces the translucent city of gold and gems and
electrum.
O' even earth and its plenitude are his monuments--
Planet rich with elemental ornaments.
'Tis him and he alone...the Genesis of all.
So praise and gratitude to the most colossal!
Ms Flip-Flop, busted for plagiarism in her co-authored book in 2008 stealing texts almost verbatim from Wikipedia and other sources.
But the media still run cover for her.
Also plagiarised was a story she told of a childhood memory about when she was a child during the civil rights movement. Only problem is that she stole it from an interview that Martin Luther King gave in 1965.
But the media still run cover for her.
She hasn’t done a press conference in 87 days since she became the nominee because her handlers are terrified of her word salads. Like Joe, she can only speak from a prepared script.
But the media still run cover for her.
The media don’t fact check her because she’s one of them - a gigglin’ woke Trump deranged puppet of the radical left.
That’s why media run cover for her.
60 Minutes got caught editing her answers to make her seem intelligible to voters and are refusing to release the transcript of the interview. That’s election interference.
And so the media will do everything they can to get her elected.
You really think Putin and Xi and all the other dictators and despots of this world are scared of Kamala? You think Iran and Hezbollah and Hamas are shaking in their boots at the prospect of a Kamala presidency?
It’s Trump they fear!
You’ve been gaslit for long enough…vote wisely and vote often (just kidding, we don’t want a repeat of 2020).
The heat of your verbatim lashes at my hide
Red heat surfaces with the morning light
Serenades of moans and breathless catcalls
Inhuman indecent oblivious to the voyeurs
Hidden by drapes and nostalgia
Morning shower washes the scent away
But the sheets remain for the nights rebel
Stage two recall we shall join again
Never ending taste dripping from my lips
Melted within your arms entangled in your loins.
They tell me to express myself with words so foreign that I question myself.
Verbatim. Diction. Syllabic expression.
Please explain to me, a kid from the projects, what the hell you talkin about?
Cuz where I'm from you spit rhymes like bullets.
Lock and load.
Don't wait for a reaction.
Ready, Set, Go!
Crime is our muse, drugs are our fuel.
You can judge from a distance but remember.
We don't affiliate with none of yo crew, talkin bout red, white, and blue.
I consider myself patriotic to my youth.
But if I dare break down these walls myself....
You will see that I am an exquisite young lady hidden underneath "white trash."
I call it camouflage.
Don't you see?
I can explain to you the differences between an Italian and an English Sonnet.
Describe the meter of a Langston Hughes piece, or even write a couplet myself.
But those things won't teach you how to survive.
No.
Not around here.
So I'll act illiterate, and act like I don't give a ****.
Just to prove a point.
But in the back of my mind I'll be counting rhyme to make sure that words come out in time.
All the while I'll delude my real self till I am no longer in the presence of fools.
I'll hide behind the green bushes and tumbleweeds that are my second self.
And put my dictionary back on the shelf.
Because unfortunately to be real means to be ignorant, and to be intelligent means to be indignant.
… where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.
Informed about the choices—
the mainstay o’ adulthood—
we often smother voices;
in good stead they have stood.
Grapple with, analyse
a destination grim:
a web of intrigue; lies
which we quote verbatim.
Some opportunities
present itself to us
with practicalities.
We often wish to cuss,
but many chances missed
in pursuit of prize.
Where ignorance is bliss,
‘tis folly to be wise.
The quote is from the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
This is an example of gnomic poetry.
A poem, like death-was
unpredictable. You wait for it,
it does not come.
Then you drag a corpse
on stones to find its home
which never materializes.
You give me a hurt. I
become mute. Very shy
to accept the verbatim.
How different we are
in alikeness. I touch you in twilight
of life to become one.
And from daily life
I gather the pain, to print
the version of tomorrow.
Satish Verma
Truth,in today's world,is a vexing word,
by what standard does the superior inferior discern?
is the notion,preconcieved,absurd,
or is it unjust,because of what we learn...
Convenient truth is subjective at best
more circumstantial than accidental,
objectively penetrating conflict to rest
massive testing of ensnared coincidental...
Can the verity remain a falsity
compounded by unverified knowledge,
only to further ahead a fallacy
compromised opportunity,bestowed to the privileged...
What mutual compact convened the truth
inclusively contained,exclusive it remains,
power to dictate how they chooseth
numbers and letters neatly arranged...
If the suffix "-th" is a third party additive
dressing what's true,as unattached favor
one truth versus another,explaining all expletives,
symbolic language enacting disclaimer...
Whom is superior,and whom is inferior?
what is the greater than quality,versus
the lesser than quality...
...consequential to why?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
verbatim ac litteratim
...vincit omnia veritas,
verbum sat sapientiest
magna est veritas et praevalebit...
word for word,and letter for letter
...truth conquers all things,
a word to the wise is sufficient
truth...is mighty and will prevail...
I turn back pages of memories,
I see the faces of mom and thee,
She plays the uke and its melodies,
Both sing along, harmoniously,
Shakespeare knew of thee, called out your name,
Verbatim in detail, all the same,
'Twas not planned, 'tis mom who laid its claim,
Gave you your name, that William gave fame,
Time and again, you fought the battle,
The doctors, nurses, endless prattle,
Years decisions of how to grapple,
Of holding on life's dire struggle,
Pain, suffering, and surgical scars,
Birthday's, anniversary's, postcards,
Sent with my love, and deepest regards,
Hoped for the best, in prayerful words,
Your giant husband, a gentle man,
Stayed by your side whenever he can,
Took sister's girl, as part of your clan,
Nay aunt but mom, simply much more than,
I heard your loss in final stages,
Hurt am I, though in Heaven's graces,
Sad, yet, you are in better places,
Now you and mom share angel's faces.
It's brilliant how one seguays into the next, flashing on the
pennon of this new-age attempt to plagerise the etch-a-sketch, and
if you watch closely, if
you count your bits and bites, your digital copies of digital recordings transferred from
magnetic tape and stones chisled with ideograms and heiroglyphic symbols-
maybe you'll find that in a hundred years we will no longer express ideas in vowels and
consonents, clumsy representations of the noises made by oscillating tissues and shifting
palletes-
Prepare to discard your medium for storage
your verbatim verbal fencing weapon is dulled and oxidized-
prepare to shed truth and solidarity.
Press any key for ecstasy. (5.99aminuteforthefirstfiveminutes)
If you are great let it show, for who will know?
Your the "Master of the Ceremony", your job is to serve.
Nobody has a clue of the preparation.
You know the 6A.M. get up, minor breakfast, and today's prepared schedule.
Whispers of haters, siblings of jealousy, bunch of negativity, and everything that blurts out is filthy.
But that's how it is though, someone verbatim.
Picked out to be picked on is what they call it.
They too busy trying to hurt you that they don't notice they helping you.
Govern by Spiritual forces.
Which means it forces things to occur, in so many ways.
What the Devil mean for Bad, The Most High means for Good.
Your blessed when they don't want you in their company; you want to question that, it says so right here in the Holy Bible!!!
Your great and you know it, I know it, The Lord know it, and those demons know it!!
This is not a maze; nevertheless, speaking hypothetically, it seems you already know the way.
You been that a way, the right of way.
Absolutely & Most Definitely made mistakes, looked left and went astray.
But absolutely & most definitely he was a sheep since his birthday.
A great day indeed to say the least.
Ignore the hate, for it mixes with plan.
To be honest, no hate, no motivation, no fuel to the fire, and on top of everything just plain boring.
What I'm referring to is "Inevitable."
So what am I complaining for?
Didn't I always look for support?
By any means necessary; nevertheless, it came in the worst way.
Regardless of how it comes it want comeback to God unless his mission is complete.
Your great just wait and let The Lord do the defeat.
- Loverboi