Best Vocalizing Poems


In a Perfect World-Celebrating My Faves

In A Perfect World-Celebrating my Faves
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich


If life was perfect there would be no more cancer...

There would be no more painful treatments, but more cleansing
of your bones. If only I could drain out your marrow and fill it
with my tender kisses. Every time I see that IV I want to rip it out 
and burn it, sending it to the oblivion of hell. You would be living a 
healthy, happy and joyous life. Free from the daily struggle to stay alive.

If life was perfect you would be sleeping next to me...

I would wake up and gaze at your perfect skin as you slowly breathe
in and out..in and out..in and out...
Now there is no more breath to feel gently on my neck.
Nights would bring intimacy instead of sorrow,
and mornings would bring me hungry for breakfast,
instead of starving for your touch.

If life was perfect I would hear your soft voice...

Vocalizing with you would be enough to carry me through another 
dreadful day. My phone would ring and I would memorize every word you
said and play the tape over and over again. The tone you would portray would
be full of excitement instead of tearful goodbyes. "Oh, please keep talking, 
don't let me go...."

If life was perfect we would dance under the constellations.

Hand in hand...body next to body...two becoming one...
with a whisper of tunes we danced to at our wedding. No more bed ridden
days and praying for you to take one more breath. I had a fear of your last breath,
and when it happened my heart stopped beating and my lungs choked up as 
I drowned in memories of us under the sad moon. I have named a star after you,
it's called “My Love Sirius”. It shines all night allowing me to see you protect the
earth, like you protected me.

If life was perfect....
our journey of love would be shouted for every year we are on earth together...


"In A Perfect World" Contest
~1st Place~

Date Written: February 15, 2016
Categories: vocalizing, death, loss,
Form: Verse

Premium Member Pursuing Poetic Polyphony

Applauding an Acrostic Aria
Bopping to a Ballade Ballet and Blank verse Berceuse
Clapping to a Cinquain Cantata and Couplet Chorale
Dancing to a Dizain Duet
Exalting in Etheree Etudes and Elegy Ensembles
Frolicking to Free verse Folk songs and Footle Foxtrots
Galavanting to Ghazal Gavottes
Humming harmonies to a Haiku Hip Hop
Inhaling Italian sonnet Instrumentals
Jiving to a Jueje Jig
Keeping time to a Kyrielle Khaliji*
Lolling to a Limerick Lullaby
Marching to a Monorhyme Minuet
Napping to a Narrative Nocturne
Ovations for an Ottava Rima Overture and Ode Opera
Praising a Pantoum Polonaise
Quieting my quarters with a Quatrain Quadrille
Rollicking to Rondeau Rondos and Rhyme Royal Rhapsodies
Singing to Sonnet Sonatas and Sapphic Stanza Symphonies
Tapping toes to a Triolet Trio and a Tanka Tango
Unwinding to an Urban Sonnet Unison
Vocalizing a Villanelle Villanella
Whistling with a Waltz Wave Waltz
eXulting in Yaltos and Zikets

// Lines consist of a verb, a poetry form, and a musical form //

*Khaliji = modern contemporary music of Central and Eastern Arabia
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: vocalizing, music, poetry,
Form: Abecedarian

Mute Man Song

A sad emotive 
Blue ballad from
The broken soul
Of a mute man poet

His heart pounds a silent beat
From deep within
As he begins
To ballet with his fingers
Vocalizing his pain
To the world of blind and deaf
In the monsoon rain 
Of his tears

As he express
His feelings and fear
About his future 
In this cold world 
Of insentient hearts
Being blind, mute or deaf
Doesn’t mean dead

This is the pain
That was easy to swallow
But hard to digest
So now I suggest
To take this fiery feeling
Out of my chest

Because they alienate us
They dig black holes
For us to find homes
Because all we are to the society
We lost souls

To those
Who got eyes to see
And ears to listen
We are just disable clowns
Because we are half human

But to those who got
Minds to think 
And hearts to feel
We all human beings
Categories: vocalizing, community,
Form: Narrative

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member I Picked a Rose

In a lovely place paradisiacal, 
where the softest showers bring
blooms that open up their petals 
and then begin to sing
and shimmer in synchronization, 
with undulating hues,
vocalizing for their Maker their 
sweet melodious tunes. . . .
is where I saw you first, 
fair flower- among that radiant cluster,
echoing your praise 
with all the fervor you could muster.

You resided in a spot, 
slightly shaded. .. .on the border,
where ornamental shrubbery 
lent an immaculate order.
Not amidst the pansies 
or the other annual flowers
that glimmer for their time 
but need rest at pre-set hours.. . 
but there with the stalwart bushes, 
unobtrusive in your pose -
A simple classic beauty; 
for my guide, I picked a rose.

(For my mother, who is a very spiritual, faithful and modest
 woman and a very immaculate housekeeper as well! This poem imagines
that we might select our parents before we are born! by the way, my mom turned 90 this past March 23rd!)

For A Mother's Love, Tributes Of Love For Mother's Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Categories: vocalizing, mother,
Form: Personification

On the Edges of Reason Wondering

What provides comedians the gift of speech 
 uncensored with lessons that teach?
Their  open mindedness  provoking ease
 undeterred to speak as they please.

How easily the comedic commentary flows
 to places  typical populace dare not go
 and those few who do
 too easily are declared hatred  spewed.

I cannot judge, it is not my place
  and it stares me in the face.
that history can be lost 
  at freedoms repeated cost.

Today there are so many points off limits
 words not to say in any scrimmage;
should they slip out no matter how you pretend
 they are deemed words none dare defend;
unless -
  race, gender or personage might use them
  it's understood, they are free to abuse them.

I'm not prejudiced, no, really I'm not
 but every now and then I have to question saying 
WHAT? - 
 some random thought  emerges
 with a hint of deceptive questioning surges
Can't I reason and ponder
 without  fear I am on the brink
 of vocalizing what I might think.

Comedic relief displays,
 the hidden prejudice revealed in wordplay;
 for blacks to say the N word is okay and accepted
 but for the whites it is hatred protected;
while LBGT communities seek unity
 others are not allowed displeasured scrutiny;
your religion is blind faith for Muslim and Jew
 should you practice in this state if it's not my view?
how often is it true
 that what we say is not what we always do.

Indeed, there are those
 who speak hatred in their prose
 but not everyone is afraid
 to say that freedom is a sharpened blade.

Freedom of speech, the right to bear arms,
Freedom of religion without harm;
 the Bill of Rights fought and well payed
 too easily fades away on the paper frayed.



George Carlin revealed it all so well
 surely those thoughts and images, could not send us all to hell.
  
  “If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, 
    then I’d have to say that the universe aimed rather low 
    and settled for very little.”
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: vocalizing, analogy, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme

The Wolfman Love Story

Nightfall was here,
The reward for his habitual labor was well on its way,
Storming through borders,
Invading backwards cities,
Collecting pieces and parts,
Digesting human heart.

Suddenly his hot lit eyes,
Spotted an unusual sight,
Her reflection off the quiet lake,
Stifled his appetite,

His nostrils flared exposing smoke,
For autumn’s chill consumed his cloak,
He swept across the trees,
Causing her to feel an abrupt breeze,

She looked around, but noone was there
She knew a presence had snuck a stare,
She continued on her way,
Then felt compelled to pray,

Asking God to bring to her,
A man that would love her so,
Vocalizing that she didn’t care,
If his looks were hard for others to bear,
As long as he could truly love,
And appreciate her like his dove.
She would be grateful,
For her heart wasn’t capable of being hateful,

She prayed the rest of her way,
While this man of the night
Listened intently to every word she did say,
And when she got to her humble little home
She went to bed all alone,

Now the time was half past two,
This beast did not know what to do,
For his night had now become defeated,
For her words had made his will depleted,

He began to weep,
His wounds were deep, 
Nevertheless, all that came out were howls,
He became an animal in love that could only let out growls,

The anguish of this tragic story,
He yearned to be held by all her glory,
He proceeded to watch her while she slept in peace,
She was an angel, he was a beast

Then around 6 am
This beauty woke to start again,
When she walked outside,
Her face went white and her eyes grew wide,

Her little house had foot prints all around,
Shaped like hearts but marks from a hound,
A message from a tormented slave,
Someone not even her love could save.

By:Sabina Nicole
Contest: wolfman in love
10-8-11
Categories: vocalizing, fantasy, imagination, love, mystery,
Form: Narrative


Perturbations of Nuances

I avoid the light that invades the space of the windows
because it perturbs the nuances of my thoughts:those
frigid sepulchral memories of yesteryears' love lying
uniformly beyond a damp partition of consciousness,trying
to escape as a means of a venerable excuse for me to 
decimate this flesh and soul which gives residence to
those effulgent ponders that waver restlessly and tangent
upon the structure of the optimists' creed that was bent
from capricious minds and hypomanic-states to which nothing
states of the verities of the now abysmal dolor which rings
through my heart with incessant intonation of a melody
that schlepps through my senses in remoteness of euphony
which springs forth from mouths of angels vocalizing of their
freedom.And within those octaves I hearken of the loss
of my freedom which I once embraced in the solitude
that abraded piquancy of vibrant day,having worn it away
to evince the cold moments of paltry existence when those
unawakened fleeting thoughts(which are semblable to windows
of graves)allow no memory of yesteryears' love bereft
to evade,and no glint of light to invade the eyes of death.
Categories: vocalizing, inspirationallight, light, love,
Form: Free verse

' the Wolf's Howl ... '

Have You Ever Heard
A Lone Wolf’s Howl
… Sends Chills, Up My Spine
In Memory, (Even Now)

… Not Out Of Fear …
That’s Not What I Hear
It’s A Longing
A Calling

A Soul-Star Rising
And Vocalizing
A Notice … A Need
A Heed of The Breed

He’s Lifting His Head
Out Of The Dark
Not Like A Bark
But, Rite of Passage-Mark

Thru the Air, ‘Hahooooo’ Zooms
In Moonlight, and in Tune
A Long, Mellow Note
The Wolf Sung-Spoke

Wolf, is Howling To Say …
Same Things, We Pray …

Have You Ever Heard 
A Lone Wolf Howl
Sends Chills, Up My Spine 
(Even Now) ! …
Categories: vocalizing, adventure, animals, happiness, introspection,
Form: Light Verse

The Essence of a Sonnet

So what can one expect next?
Is it the complexity of words that draws us near?
To delve deeper into the void of interminable text 
Would one have to first examine what to them is dear?

What is in a word?
Is it the sound one makes when vocalizing vocabulary?
Or is it the emotion a word produces, such as the flight of a bird? 
This, is unknown, thus my motives are extraordinary

To write poetry, is to live
And all sonnets are beautiful, this, a preconceived notion 
Despite a piece’s theme, be it realistic or fictive
Assuredly, sonnets remain as poetry in motion

‘Tis only my humble speculation
That poetry will endure the most onerous tribulation
Categories: vocalizing, poems,
Form: Sonnet

Loose Stools

I seethe with livid rage within the bowels of my being
when sitting upon the porcelain goddess ample defecation doth cling
immediately triggering an internal self hatred 
   charge of body electric to signal an inaudible ding
though a figurative lid 
   kept atop unrelenting,  toil letting, and smoldering, red hot poker anger 
   withering vocalizing heard all the way to Ewing
informing  high pitched emergency siren intended for catastrophes
   to generate ear splitting ring,
which Soundcloud echoes continued re:verb burr ray ting

trying  utmost effort to keep wretched loathing sans soft excrement  
   (I.e. unformed rectal waste matter) spewing within bit torrent cheek 
this psychotic cannery going cook coo 
   to sublimate **** angst inducing mental tipping point asper this freak
whose ultra bizarre psychic affect from other than a solid turd
   doth seem  overly absurd, which anonymous reader reaction 
   may find this more difficult to decipher than speaking Greek,
but thy neurotic posterior predilection qua rear, 
   or what crap emanates from buttocks generates a peak
into the off kilter mind scape of this bottom of the bowl Sheik 
finding myself going berserk and weak

in the high knee, where blasting acrimonious derriere glowing jolt
would be typical of schizoid personality dis odor dolt
whose exultant, copious ablutions (against mine excretory system) 
   gives anyone whose eyes espy this tragicomical frenzy to bolt
perhaps wondering if a soft padded sonic boom encased room 
   most suitable for this bay bee boo moor adult

whose coping mechanism to bear with me peculiar mental drek
somewhat flushed out this beastie boy via writing poetry, and heck
with these mailer daemons, finding refuse in the noggin of this smart a 'leck
within which these highland imps 
   resembling fifty plus blank shades of gray matter if ye did in speck
the cerebral cortex of this pooped out scribe riding an ass a nine trek.

Dire rhea 
spurs intent for permanent vacation – not just brief hiatus via see ya
yea...ache kin to the grim reaper that stole eva or Zsa Zsa
Gabor  - hungry for every mortal.
Categories: vocalizing, anger, angst, body, emotions,
Form: Free verse

Reading Out Loud

Reading Out Loud...

Plus applying index finger as pointer guide
(take that Missus Wells),
who best not take objection, hence let snide
blackboard barbed comment dultifully slide
chalked up and emanating

from gentleman with pride
and prejudice toward third grade teacher,
whose archaic rubric, I no longer abide
when a student at Henry Kline,
he now doth elide

ridiculous bans Boyer Grade School
instituted), who undoubtedly Gracefully yells
from her grave, against these codas long defied
condemned, exorcised, forbidden taboos,
nonetheless tactically helped this pied

piping peter pan, an aging (intellectual baby
boomer bookworm) as his tried
and true knowledge bank account swells
conviction communicating wide
across avast web donning

and/or trumpeting averring,
he always decried
"FAKE" arrogance, conceit, egotism,...
which learning my methodology quells ride
ding high crest of aspiration an aside

to increase cerebral deteriorating multicells,
thus lessening the smarts for suicide
this technique fosters enhanced cognition,
galvanization, pronunciation, et cetera,
whereby vocalizing words,

while ensconced backside
voicing, learning idea
constituting each sentence,
(within figurative nutshells) decide
dutiful dogged diligence involves eyesight,

mandibular interaction
jabbering, sans oral jawbreader divide
aided by vocalization augmentation allows,
enables, and provides groundswells
flowing fun like joyride

with incorporation to hear
nasal twang only downside
syllabification altogether garnering
boost to comprehension outstride
ding learning taking paradigm nationwide.
Categories: vocalizing, 12th grade, 3rd grade,
Form: Free verse

The Haunted

An excruciating Sunset gradually plunged behind my frail head
Dazzling glooms of muscular flames surrounding corners of my bed
With gleaming ominous vessels burdened by wonders of the dead
Enriched with overflowing water that curses the entire glory night
Blinding over the house spectacle & baffling it from the divine light
With souls buried with depraved crops administering a spiritual fright
Yet covered with overwhelming windows that blaze & baffles so bright
 
As the sun lights up, my body felt colossal pains & sizzling stitches
While native doctors cleansed the house from specters & witches
Ghost whispers cleansed the enclosure & discovered a vital purse
As I snatched the purse; marvels of evil specters conveyed a curse
Overwhelming revelations brushed my eyebrows & darkness prevail
Then packed all my belongings and now live to instruct & tell the tale
 
I've dwelled on the devil’s haunted throne, & my eyes have seen my ears
A diligence course has been haunting my soul for days, months, & years
Maybe the haunting started at conception or the day I was blithely born
It appears that I’m brain dead; my soul, real name, life, joy, & love is gone
All the events that happened; and my baptism name doesn't feel like me
Sometimes I question my faith, bow my dim head, or kneel on one knee
Asking the lord almighty questions about my demise, & where ill surely be 
 
A yawning frosty gloom sheltered the space, while angry specter swarm
Vocalizing a solitary voice; shafting my thoughts with a twisting storm’
An indistinguishable earthquake twisted the hasty wits of my crony’s pet
while it rattles it’s diffused head ;& specters slit the collar of my white shirt
I’ll never forget that mind smashing instant ,when the dim curse emerged
As  the  skirmishing holy ghost bash ,& the evil swarm of specters surged
Ooh my fellow soldiers; learn to put god first in anything you do or think
Because he’ll pave your lost soul to him; and the devils evil demise will sink
Categories: vocalizing, abuse, birth, change, dark,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Same Old Bricks

A barren paradise 
Paper parachutes
Bleed, I before we
Except after deaths
String of light suctions 
Screams captioned 
Vocalizing muffles
Fleas flee
Parasites sight 
Leaches beseech 
Conventions plateau
Wonted into winter 
Inept untaught cling
Polluting prospects 
Tasting achilles 
Oxidizing tongues
Clip urinating lips
Pressurizing knuckles 
To freeze ends mean
Of inks soap
Washing pluto pores 
Till burning gain 
Is nothing lost
Samold verse
An inkling fresh
What's left to not do?
Peddle soup cans?
Underline oddities?
Misspell mutiny?
Lying in a sensible 
Juxtaposition 
A fruitful prison
Categories: vocalizing, angst, art,
Form: Blank verse

This Thing, Love

Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.

The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved.

Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love.

One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists.

To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love.

Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next.

This need becomes confused with want.

To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit.

The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust.

Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy.

Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love.

This scent acts as incentive,  instantly attracted by which we over indulge.

Searching for this thing, love.

It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice.

Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill.

Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left.
Grown obese. This thing, love
Categories: vocalizing, black african american, black
Form: Free verse

Its Given

“Its Given”
Its given living life intentional I awake daily in attunement living life on a purpose for a purpose
Germinating my flow
My ambition is struggle driven
My strengths derived from resiliency is flamboyantly noticeable its given
Im colorful so if you dont understand me its because we are all singly uniquely woven
Our reasoning may appear diverse its due to the separate lives were living but its given
That you are you and I am me
Comfortably positioned as what our creator and character has defined us to be With inevitable cultural engraving
Ancestral imprints of enslavement oppression pavements
Its given resiliency
You are you and I am me
Fearlessly and wonderfully made to stand as one in unity and love through these perilous times
So I shine my light and humanize life by vocalizing
My voice towards a more positive wholesome choice
Combating against the enemies hate and loud overwhelming noise
A beacon of light to penetrate, motivate and inspire those that can relate Breaking lost souls free from bondage
At one point I was captive hidden in silence
I subjugated the trauma and prioritized my hurt
Sifting through my dirt I dug up my worth
No more comparing today Im comfortable in my own skin No matter my failures or imperfections
The reflection in the mirror positively affirm that I can win
revelations to articulately convey the words to heal
What is given that you are you and I am me
Walking down the same road with dissimilar backgrounds
Categories: vocalizing, encouraging, growth, motivation, recovery
Form: Free verse
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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