Best Verbiage Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Categories:
verbiage, animal, children, education, kid,
Form:
Rhyme
This is a parody of "I can't Dance." by Genesis.
Metaphor junkies
spewing their dung
actin all holy
like they've written in tounges...
Can anybody
interpret that (Bleep)
explain the poems meaning
with a comment that fits...
Then say, I can't write
or compose
demi-gods are out there
always breaking my (Bleeps...)
They say, I can't write
or compose
so I'm just sittin here typin anything...
Contests
really tickle a muse
seems the hosts
and poet are truly confused...
A muse ain't fickle
just knows what it likes
if you can't relate
then yours may take a hike...
They say, I can't write
or compose
tappin on this keyboard
till my fingers are numb...
They say I can't write
or compose
so I'm just sittin here typin anything...
Metaphor groupies
bow to the ground
ain't got a clue
of what the poem expounds...
But it's got image
and metaphors too
though I've seen better
on the walls of a loo...
They say, I can't write
or compose
everything I pen
is either weak or cliche...
Yeah I can't write
or compose
so I'm just sittin here typin...
Yeah I try to make it right...
Put the verbiage, in its proper place...
~Note~
I also write on another site as RunningWolves . On that site there some really rude poets who think they are Gods gift to humanity. They think everything they write is a masterpiece and are not shy about belittling people who's comments on their work aren't good enough for them. So, I wrote this for them.
So this has nothing to do with anyone on PoetrySoup.
See, I never claimed to be a poet, nor to have anything that even remotely resembles talent. I am just an simple guy playing at poet. anything I do that even seems like a talent is really just God's way of keeping me from making a total fool of myself... I guess you could say its on loan from God... Thank you!
Categories:
verbiage, anti bullying, funny, humor,
Form:
Lyric
Gold Fever
History will not record the bloated weight
Of this pious and bigoted race
Or count the fat and flaccid wealth
Of religions idolatry
Those pages have been scrubbed clean
By prosperous forgivingness
And the cruelty of established political dominion
Will not tally the bodies of the oppressed
To them, faith and belief are merely a weapon
A system of abusive control
And a means of power continuation
A dictatorial right to rule the population
History will not record the inheritance of opinion
But lay blind at the doors of massacre
The Aztec, The Aborigine, The North American Indian, The African *****,
Pray in silence to The Church
Centuries written in blood and torture
For a message of verbiage and usage
Extracted and leeched from the poor and uneducated
Created the western dream
The long night of the witch hunt is not over
The Inquisition has saved us
With fake blood and wooden crosses
This elite of moral perspective shall save us all
We have paid the price in conscience
Superiority managed by white skinned indifference
Holy mother church has welcomed all
All into its iron embrace of slack jawed wonder
And what more despicable rule can there be
Than to dictate ones own spiritual journey
Spouted by the rote of political expediency
And the promise of heaven
Ingrained now this so called Christian ethic
And so much of the truth left distorted
Forgotten now are the ancient mystical secrets
Which united mankind to understanding
Idol of gold and crucifixion
Of cathedral and stained glass objectification
Gilt and holy water of sumptuous ritual
Of silken pope and luxurious self righteous invention
An aberration of human faith and belief
An unrepentant destroyer of “ Loves ” dream
The curse of The Christ as you continue to translate
The Word
And where the paupers fist crunches the dirt
Where dried and parched lips pray for rain
Where the desperate cry for a reason echoes
Where blood flows in feted anger
Where children scream in fear
Where hunger and despair debase and demean
Where there is no light
And in the dark only pain
If you wish to care for the souls of mankind
Preacher
It is there with them
There
Is where you should be
Categories:
verbiage, faithfaith, political, perspective, ,
Form:
Free verse
I will release no rhyme
Before its time.
No limerick, ode, haiku, or sonnet
Will 'scape from 'neath
My poet's bonnet
'til it be trimmed, and tamed, and non-aggressive,
Or overripe with verbiage
Or punctuation too excessive.
I will not break
This pledge I take,
Cruel critics' barbs though I endure.
My verse I'll brace with style and grace
Until my place in poetry's secure.
Of course, should "laureate" become my haunt, too,
I'll release anywhere,
And anyhow,
And anytime I damn well want to.
Categories:
verbiage, humor, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
As I stared into the starless night,
the blinding lights of the city blotting out the beauty of a
cloudless sky fading away into day
I wonder what we missed this time - so preoccupied with our
earthly troubles - perhaps a message that Heaven wanted us to hear
Could it be a winsome Sonnet that was waiting in the winds for us, but we did not listen?
As I looked out over the waters of the endless river - flowing steady
The small streams making their own separate way, reflecting the
beauty of the Moon lighting up the night sky; What is the story they
have to tell - but we are too busy trying to sort out the problems we
brought upon ourselves
Could it be a sweet Melody in answer to the questions that flow continuously through our hearts?
Oh Look! Behold the mountains rising in the distance - the lovely
Daffodils and Sunflowers moving in the soft winds - blue green grass covering the Earth from as far as the eye can see - What is this Song they sing? Do we not understand the language they speak to us? Are we so filled with the
worries of everyday life that the meaning is hidden from our minds
Could it be a wholesome Ballad to guide us through the maze of the
issues of everyday life?
It seems we can translate with ease the verbiage of hate filled hearts;
We put ourselves in agreement with the Lie; that our Creator made one
race of people superior to another; we read the dictionary filled with the
meaning of murder, betrayal and treachery - perpetrated upon others who
were made in the same image as ourselves - and then we watch with
closed hearts the consequential results of indulging in this dark information
Could it be that we missed the sweet Song whispering in our hearts
from Heaven's Choir?
Categories:
verbiage, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Sunlight kissed the horizon; our young age,
leaving dots and dashes upon our crisp page.
Wild flower and Wonders, we both did grow;
watching seasons change from spring to snow.
Sunlight above and the noon overhead;
teenage verbiage and words left unsaid.
Wild flower and Wonders were left behind.
Sometimes snowflakes choose simple design.
Sunlight at five and silhouettes emerge;
and words and meanings work to converge.
Wild flower and Wonders, we slip into sleuth.
Autumn overshadows the losses of youth.
Sunlight gives way to the Wonders of moon.
Wild flower whispers leave me longing for you.
Categories:
verbiage, age, autumn, language, longing,
Form:
Rhyme
WHEN MY WORDS ARE MORE THAN HEARD
When my words act as proverbs
When my verbs are heard.
When the simple become wise
When my people listen to reason
And no longer follow folly.
When my adjectives invoke action,
Instead of reaction.
When young eyes are opened
To the riddles of the wise.
When a mother's words are adhered to.
When exhortations, means more than mere suggestions!
Recognizing it as a calling forth, a coming near.
Till' those who have ears will no longer hate knowledge;
But embrace my words as wise sons
And daughters. Children of my proverbs will
Use my words to form shields against the wicked-ones.
Ones who seek to destroy you.
So, gather together as sticks In a bundle.
Noticing what we have in common, as we
Are stronger as one.
When my words call you away from harm,
And you ignore my warnings.
There will be some who will take my words as trill...
And throw the solutions in the garbage, as wasted verbiage
My proverbs need now be heard and heeded.
Not wait until you realize they're needed.
Do not look for me in the midst of the storm...
For I and I shall be gone.! leaving the sirens on.
Categories:
verbiage, meaningful, together, words,
Form:
Verse
SOLITUDE A LOVE KNOT
Rushing millipede of rain down my window pane
sadness drifts, glided uninvited ounce reef.
Unruffled even from billowing strain,
solitude steals unnoticed like a thief.
Tiptoeing feet over my naked crippling fear.
Verbiage expressed in trying train distraught.
I... yearning a life of dearest love cheer
let it be from solitude, it will sprout lots.
Loneliness prism echoes songs of sparrows.
Nectared bullet actions, a long tender sought.
Brushing my frozen hind with hues of rainbow.
In solitude, knowing thyself a love knot.
Healing ancient wrongs buried deep marrow.
Transfixed by time, dot by dot by dot...
(c)Olive ELoisa
5:09am
August 09, 2014
POETRY TYPE: RONDEL
Categories:
verbiage, emotions, growth, life, light,
Form:
Verse
Evasion, the dagger's sharpened strong point
Slowly has pricked love's joy until now gone
Tedious the effort to time appoint
Verbiage to one who speaks from heart of stone
Fluffy moisture laden clouds float across
the blue sky, gentle breeze stirs heart's desire
Thus love's awakening to you like dross
Intimacy through deep channels expire
Can love's embers be rekindled to flaming
hot Tabasco Sauce, open up cold heart
Let in spring's whispers of love not blaming
Uncork the closed mind to thoughts uncharted
Let not evasion of thoughts and needs trap
Reach forth and receive all from love's tap
Finis'.......
Just for PD
Finished May 16, 2014
Categories:
verbiage, love,
Form:
Sonnet
With vile intensity
hatred
infiltrates
the hearts of men,
turning
brother against brother,
friend against friend,
dividing
our once great nation.
Right is wrong;
wrong is right.
Confusion
reigns as
wisdom
flounders and
hatred's
vitriolic verbiage
tears down
and
destroys
trust and unity.
And all the while,
Satan
is dancing with glee
on the ashes of our
hope,
and the soul of our
nation
weeps.
O God, save us from ourselves!
For Brian Strand's July 4 Free Verse Contest
2/2/17
Entered in John Hamilton's Upside
Down World Contest
Tied for 2nd place
Categories:
verbiage, america, anger, confusion, grief,
Form:
Free verse
GIRL YOU HAVE TO KNOW THIS ONE IS FOR MY ONE AND ONLY FAN
she
the she who slumbers among the numbers of content souls who abide not anger nor snide remarks
she
the she who sets the flames of verbiage to sparks
she
the she who sees my smiles though she sees me not
she
the she who follows a righteous and pious path and plot
she
she who grants me the grace of platitudes
with never any negative attitudes
she
the she whom i envision giggling and wiggling her way through this planet we call Earth
...............she
the she i deem a delight and have the the right for what's that's worth
(c) 2011......Phreepoetry ~free cee!~
Categories:
verbiage, friendship, me, planet,
Form:
Grook
At any rate ... or any time,
I so prefer a metered rhyme ...
If from a fool or from a sage,
It bounces briskly off the page.
Quick to grasp a mind or heart,
And tickle fancies, a la carte ...
Dancing fast, and hard to catch,
Nimbly footed sounds to match.
Off the tongue to tumble, swift,
Rolling phrases dart and drift ...
Furtive words, so fun and fleet,
Filled with cleverness, replete.
Locution molded, start-to-goal,
To paint an image in your soul ...
Terms entwining wishes, bright,
To dim the day or burn a night.
Letters, turned to eyes that cry,
Lungs to breathe, wings to fly ...
Lines with tempo, sweet or sour,
Blooming runes as phrases, flower.
Words otherwise, just in-a-row,
But set to rhyme, compel us so ...
Thus taking phrases, commonplace,
And giving them a charm and grace.
Turning parlance into song,
Helping verbiage move along ...
Telling tales with tempo, quick,
No matter what the bailiwick.
Speeding up the things we say,
To send them sweetly on their way,
Words in rhythm just won't wait ...
That's rhyme to me ... at any rate.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "At Any Rate It Will Be Fast Moving" Poetry Contest, Julia Ward, Sponsor.
Categories:
verbiage, metaphor, poems, poetry, words,
Form:
Rhyme
Limitless! Is where you can go in the universe of poetry.
Set your goals as high as that glorious moon.
For the steps to what we call, "Glory" are steeped in quick, fast-food poetry.
Beware! No astonishment there, just jingles that make you tingle.
Dont lie~ you do know fully what I mean!
The fast, the quick, the puny impotent, poetry gestures, the fallibly obscene.
That make both author and reader alike, shrink in stature!
Twin corpses,a ghastly blue and of equally squallid, putrid ,quilled natures.
Be an Emerson or a Neruda, who found their voice.
Like Michelangelo,chisel your words and refine their meaning, make them
choice!
English, an abundant language, oh, I write in pain!
Writing with words that a only thirteen year old can maintain?
Oh, Lord forgive me for sacrificing the brilliant verbiage for the quick.
I live in a universe where 'fast' rules all, it makes me sick, these poetic tricks!
Making poets think poetry is a stand up comedy act?
It's anything but..and drives me daft.
For in fine poetry, there's more than just a quill.
It's a Poet's finest hour, and his grandest thrill!
February 12, 2020
4pm PST
Dedicated to the beautiful souls here, who constantly keep lifting my quill to celestial heavens.
Eternally grateful,
Panagiota Romios
Categories:
verbiage, encouraging, inspiration, poets,
Form:
Couplet
I love life, that's probably apparent
By the happiness in all my poems
When I make my final curtain call
Want the biggest celebration known
Don't want none of that mourning stuff
No sad songs, no shedding of tears
Just want some joyous good time fun
Great food and buckets of cheer
Tradition says we should hang our heads
In solemn remembrance of life
But the time's they are a-changing dear friends
Bring on the drums and fifes
Not saying you should have a big parade
But it sure would suit me fine
I'll try not to wiggle the coffin too much
As I do my best to keep time!
The bottom line to all of this verbiage
Is that life is a fragile thing
One day we're here, the next day gone
Just enjoy your one last fling!
Categories:
verbiage, life,
Form:
Quatrain
How Thick Is Your Skin?
Written: by Tom Wright
3/31/2018
In today’s society it appears to be about skin,
Many whine when things don’t go their way.
Laying at fault, is that our skin is too thin,
We’re easily offended by what others do and say.
Whiners leap to the podium with much to say,
Spewing words which aren’t from their own;
Saying clueless things swaying others their way,
Too young to realize you reap what you’ve sown.
Taking everything personal young tempers boil,
They seek to destroy any with dissenting view.
The old adage “to the victors belong the spoil”,
Seems to aptly apply to a “disadvantaged” few;
They seldom view things as just another’s opinion,
And are quick to strike back thus creating a flap;
Over verbiage alone each is granted dominion,
We need to give thought before opening our trap.
Categories:
verbiage, word play, words,
Form:
Lyric