Best Volume Poems


Volume

"Volume"




Up 



(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)










"Stay" /Bowie
https://youtu.be/eGuu7NiALvo


















Volume
noun, 
a book forming part of a work or series;
a single book or a bound collection of printed sheets;
a scroll of parchment or papyrus containing written matter;
the amount of space that a substance or object occupies, or that is enclosed within a container;
quantity or power of sound; degree of loudness.




Up
https://www.google.com/search?q=up+define&rlz=1C1SQJL_enAU857AU857&oq=up+define&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l7.1594j0j15&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

take your pick. :) x




Station/Stations
https://www.lexico.com/definition/station

- specific.

Premium Member Volume and Measure Imagined

So, we are here
then we depart
from this primordial ground.

Set free to be
released
back... onto the ultimate cosmic
starting point
of creation.

A Call To Arms-Volume One

A call to arms has been issued and all the lyrical guns have been reissued
fierce fighting mothers handing out tissues to dab away at media blasted issues 
while the news just labels and cradles out the issues to misuse without paying 
dues and then we all lose yes i said we all lose while fighting towards the end

Because of men riddled with sin i think it's time to begin again with sentimental 
reason to treason. start rhyming again to turn away the seasons.  Why can't you 
stop, can't you see the beacons?  But oh no, hell no, here comes the saturated 
reasons spouting from our deacons to extinguish all the beacons.

A call to arms has beened released from our fathers that are burried and 
deceased.  Oh no, hell no, the wonders they never decease.  While problems 
they steadily increase time to pick a pocket and do away with that lease.  The 
poor man crying while the fat cat continues to fleece us, with mistrust, thinking 
we aren't tough.  but life gets hard and tough, the people they have had enough.  
So all the people they rise up and stand up, can't stop it up or break it up.  

When the crowd starts pumping, and the cities start thumping, with this lyrical 
something.  Maybe the teen mothers wold stop humping, but y'know something, 
when we wake up this has all been for nothing.  Because the city is a monster 
living in dumpsters, with parents in the house yelling at their kids upstairs, no 
wonder the nation is caught unawares.  We're all frightened by the nightmares, 
but do nothing when the beacons start to blare.  Looking up at empty hands as if 
to plead with the starving air.  Oh god, the answer was but now it's gone and I 
don't where.  Not even the gospels that are out there can tell me where.  But who 
cares?  With all the dope selling and the fathers that aren't there.
© John Allen  Create an image from this poem.


A Volume of Mcclatchy

A Volume of McClatchy 
 (on reading "The Ten Commandments" by J.D. McClatchy)
	-  Cheryl L. Higgins @2001 

I picked up your book. No, I ordered your book 
special hard-back from the local shop
a neighborhood place where literary types and 
Yale professors stop on their lunch
where the proprietor came round from behind 
to check his shelves by eye 
and called you 'our local boy'. 

Our local boy. 
I almost looked up when the bell jangled 
and the door banged shut. 
Six slow steps that stopped on the fifth.
The paper-shred scent of ink and pulp 
draws the senses to the walls. Old brick dust 
sealed with thick paint sets the books, your books 
a censer among them, somewhere.

Do you come to see them? Four copies down to one?
Down to none? In the hands of a new reader, now. 
Or a writer. 
Now your truths become ours in these poems, your own 
veiled soul a sacrament for the masses
a confession of wafer-thin sheets 
whispered on the tongue.

Behind the stacks your penance becomes 
our own absolution, writers murmuring your absolution
as they read you write themselves
how desperate blood-sport can be made of lives 
at the liver's expense, nodding, yes I see
this happens, this is how it should be told.

But then, we catch
on your candor
and comes the dry
choke, the flush of
embarrassment 
swallowed, for
aren't these the
self-crucifixions 
for secret sins so
like our own 
laid open with the
power of blood and
passions
the writing which
readers covet 
and we feel the
jealous prick, we
writers as readers 
for not confessing
first, and then
contrition, and then

that recurrent
seduction of maybe
becoming so bold our
selves one day
the titillation of
fashioning our own
sins with such truth
oh, no! Then, yes,
and then,
 Yes!
For when we write in
half-truths
does not some better
truth lie just
beneath? 
And here, you've
given us yours.

The man on the
stairs steps behind
me 
to wait in deference
to my purchases
your book tucked
away, already mine,
now. 
He leans in to get a
look at the title
thin polite smile;
fellow lover of
words, to care what
I might read 
so I tip it back
that he might more
easily see
his face open in
slight surprise and 
what might be
approval, but has he
read it? I can't
tell. 
He steps to the
counter.
"McClatchy," he
says.
"Have you any copies
left?"

Premium Member Turn Down the Volume

turning down the noise within allows one to hear another-clearly
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.

Words Speak Volume

Words speak volume, we don't always think,
Words speak volume, May need healing,
Words speak volume, please tread carefully.

Words speak volume, whether good or bad,
Words that come from deep inside, you may be blind,
If you don't see the outcome,of their meaning,
Think carefully before you speak,you may never know,
Who may be in dire need of a heartfelt thought,
For true friendship, respect cannot be bought.

Words speak volume,don't turn away,
Look at the person you are speaking to,
Look into their eyes,.open their window of their soul,
Are your sponsors bringing a tear or a smile?

Words speak volume, whether loud or soft,
Think wisely about your message, for we all are teachers,
Trying to comfort a lost soul........


Premium Member Paperbacks and Gluttony


I’ve read too many
Words – adjectives and adverbs
Poetry and prose
Both delicious with color
And captivating with feeling
Like music, they have charmed me
My mind absorbs their excuses
Benefiting from their reasons
Justifications that count
Me one of the spellbound
One of the awestruck
One trapped by names
Styles and expressions
Terms and verses
Disputes within the passages

I have read them
Devoured them with a hunger
That is almost a living thing
Forcing me to wolf them down
Like the glutton I am

False Hope Revisited:Volume Infinity

walk around the edges and meet me at the corner
there is a place that makes some killer 4 cheese macaroni dots
we can order baby back rib subs as well and get our favorite salads with it
please do not make that face at me....i am going crazy out my mind missing me some you
i find myself planning ways to get you all to myself
i find myself on the computer wanting to book some place oceanfront so badly
i find myself writing things that never really happened with hearts of many sizes drawn on all sides
i find myself lying to people i am close to just give myself some type of false assurance
i cannot control the shaking
i cannot control the profuse sweating
i cannot control the urge to free myself sane
i just want to take these rough edges and smooth them all out perfectly
however when it is too late....it is just too late....
tomorrow is your wedding day....and all i can do is watch you walk away with your head held high....without one word to me....
my forever dreams are now and forever nevermore....i choke from the smoke in the air
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

A Call To Arms-Volume Two

Here comes some times that nobody wants to see.  Just sitting there watching 
there boxed in tv.  or buying some junker pretending to be HumVee.  But that isn't 
me.  I had a thought that revolved around proper unity.  Where we all stood as 
one until the problems had all gone and there was no need to put into steep 
word this domineering song.  Where did it go wrong, I walked the bible laid road 
and the journey continues on even so it is long.  

But which way to turn which way not to burn.  Is this the way that I must learn, 
which truth I should yearn for, I adore, but is it above this salt lake sea I should 
soar?  So I look to the steps that others had all traveled before.  But close my 
eyes and listen to lies, the truth was heard but hard to ignore all the homeless 
children that only need more.  But who else cares where they do not hear their 
cries streaming down mountainsides and rupturing with the bursting tides.  
Besides, we've got our homes built of clay, and to this I must say, what a dismay 
all this play has brought us today.  

Carry on, venture forth, keep heading north.  Sooner or later we'll get what we're 
worth.  And to the sigh that we must give when an angel walks by.  Hypnotize our 
lives with warnings and signs.  Read between the lines all the lambs swimming 
in the sides.  Hear a voice to make a choice what should happen after we die.  
Don't fear the fear to question the inevitable why.
© John Allen  Create an image from this poem.

Roller Coaster Ride: Volume Ageless

roller coaster ride!
stomach dropping blissful wheeeeee!
WANNA GO AGAIN!
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Under the Bleachers By Seymore Butts Volume Ii

Little Jonny returns with a brand-new toy.
He’s back under the bleachers, this naughty little boy.
He’s got a cattle prod that he has named King Tut.
It’s fully charged and ready to zap someone in the butt.

He looks front to back and side to side.
He spots a plump quarter moon and smiles with pride.
It’s little Susie’s Mom as she sits and cheers.
Little Jonny gets ready, as if he’s throwing a spear.

Little Jonny takes aim and plunges it deep.
A quarter moon bullseye right between the cheeks.
He cries out in joy, this sure is fun!
She screams in pain and little Jonny runs.

The moral of this story is be mindful of your third eye.
When you sit in those bleachers be sure to get up high.
You never know when little Jonny shows up to take a peek.
Always pull your pants up and never show your cheeks.

November 23, 2020
Make Me Laugh With Some Humor - Any Form -  New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

Ytlayol-The Poem Riddles Volume 3

If you are me you would never stab a friend in the back; I am what a mother bear is to her 
cubs, while they are still whelping; You display me when you stay at a lesser paying job that 
gave you a start, when a higher paying job seeks you; I am what your father is to your 
mother if he has never cheated on her and has always been there for her; No matter how 
much money you try to spend on me, you'll never really be able to buy me; I am harder to 
find than a winning lottery ticket that says "I'm a winner, please try me"! Who am I? I am 
Loyalty.

Premium Member Calculating Volume and Weight

a blackout freak out
         cube freezer and a fish tank

           mouth to mouth to mouth




;),

Tcepser-The Poem Riddles Volume 2

Everybody wants me but they can't have me; I am earned not given; If you do this to 
yourself you will have self esteem and morals; How can you say you know me, and not show 
me towards your mother or father; If you have me, no matter where you go or what you do 
you can hold your head up high; If you want me you must earn me and I will stay with you 
until you die; If you try to show me to every one, every one should show me to you; If you 
do this to GOD your life line will remain true; Everybody wants me but they can't have me; 
What am I? I am Respect!

Premium Member Volume

A new book
seal broken
virgin page.

Hastily
scrawled in red
volume loud

the word SAVE.
Now slowly
close cover.




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