Conversation Poems - Poems about Conversation

I sat next the guy who sat to that"ole Gal" that night that they talked it over. Over and Over again they talked about it. I heard words of love and endearing concerns. They talked about everything from frustations to ferns they spoke of the need to understand and a bneed to know more one things for sure they talked it out. See what is worth mentioning in...

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being easygoing has its advantages but a framing of how life is processed helps establish rules of conduct when relationships are in the making clarify expectations say what you mean and mean what you say. clarity of ideas well expressed thoughts precision of words understanding what works and what doesn’t ~ life not a crap shoot improve the odds take charge be in the driver’s seat AP: Honorable...

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Cool green wind Intertwined with trees Keys it removes May be in the grooves Session is over Blows from here to there Shifting to balcony Picking up pink smell From the fewer spells Monsoon rain here Sharing wet clouds Shouts the large rooster Hey, where are you all Calling the guitar Stars from the strings...

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Conversation With Relatives Today, I feel an intense resolve. About two years ago, family members frequently shared news of someone's passing—whether it was from the village or someone I had once known. During those conversations, I would tense up and firmly request that they refrain from calling with bad news. Death is a constant reminder, glaring...

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Caution around that window, my friend! What of it now? It lets you see outside and reflects in. What of it, then? Some things once seen must be exhumed. Why the fuss? It musn't break for it is strong. Strength will not cherish it. It musn't break for it will cut. Blood trickles as tears. It musn't break for it shows truth. Truth outside will...

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I’m new to ‘self directed study,’ it’s a construction I’ve never known. It’s kind of a faustian bargain that resembles another self-paced activity—treading water. The program’s like an immersive plunge in deep, choppy, informational seas. On the other hand, instead of dark, crowded auditorium classes, we’ve been studying, on sunny mornings, out by the pool, where...

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Conversation in the Woods Nice day. The third of June. Glittering light. Light. Just walk, walk in the paths. Forest trails. Walks. “Where are you?” I asked Satan. Silence. “Where are you? I asked the Master. “In. There. Other. On-in there. Far,” he answered. “I don’t want English psychology,” I said. “I am here. I am not an English psychologist. I am...

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Conversation in the Woods Windy, cold day, the sun is sleeping behind the clouds The walk is very slow and melancholic on the winding paths The rustling of leaves and tree branches provides meditation Walk and thinking Waiting, answers Waiting for the answers “Good afternoon,” I heard a friendly, deep man's voice. “I missed you, my dear Satan. Good to hear from you,”...

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Beautiful day, rainy, cloudy, cold, and a bit windy Just walking between the graves, my witnesses Alone, of course. To be. Best. One way. Element Loved this place. Here, everyone is loved. Home The last home. On Earth. In this world. A church No. The church is gone. Walk. It’s a funeral garden. A living death garden. Pure happiness. Down love –...

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A blot of ink drifts right of center. It grows, devours— Pale pages consumed by raven. I asked the low, bruised sun if my life still counts when my pen scratches a scream— but no words ever made it out. My voice chases inked shadow drips—spread mourning...

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How can we not have this conversation where footprints of the poor vanish beneath the boots of investors, and the river sings only to those who can afford its luxury? In Chobe, the elephants roam free, but people walk caged in poverty. We call it coexistence when tusks are protected, but mothers bury their sons gored near neglected kraals. And no one...

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We sit across from each other, knowing what the silence says but never daring to speak it aloud. Time stretches between us, fragile, like an old photograph— faded edges, corners curling, memories too distant to hold. I ask about the weather, you reply with the temperature, as if that can fill the spaces we once knew so well. Your eyes flicker, but you don’t say what you...

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In conversation the sounds of her thinking astounds logic rebounds argument confounds rationale knows not bounds there's no reasoning with what she expounds or justification in that which she propounds when all facts fail and reality surrounds her point of view tho' it has zero grounds piled on in mounds with absurdity she compounds adding injury to insult my brain it impounds traps me wraps me saps my energy inducing mental lethargy causing ...

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Poets are the ones who began the conversation, their word paving the way for philosophy, Parmenides, with his poetry, laid the foundation of thought, bringing philosophy into the light of consciousness, But then the paths diverged, poets continuing to reveal truth through metaphors and rhythms, Memory and nostalgia woven into verses, in enjambments that flow continuously, While philosophy created...

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Conversation with Satan – Where is life? What is life? Why must we live? – For Fate. Every life is a noble life. – Said Satan – My life is full of suffering. Need to live it? – I asking – There is no suffering. Do not imagine it. – Replied Satan – Then, where is life? How can I...

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