Dialect Poems - Poems about Dialect

Aye 'ee is fierce and hale. Four mile to work,across the vale; No slommakin' slattern 'ee, Okkard as an itching flea. Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard, Garmed with mud,as thick as lard, Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope, On is own,allus could cope. Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled, Even if drenched and bedraggled; In lightning 'e wore niver frit, Though the whole sky wore fork-lit. Grew...

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Anything of substance now silent, no nuance in bony dialect; Floundering in a devoid ocean we are starving for fluid language; Razor thin cuts painful and shallow banal waters lack diversity; Uninspired without diversity collaboration’s fallen silent; Sand bar bellows out ‘Party shallow.’ A view with no need for dialect; It speaks an elemental language that lacks the finesse of the ocean; Swimming the...

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A genie's lamp cannot compare, To smoke awoken from my breath, Slithered out in ancient swear, Unshackled life from sudden death. Hear me now in brazen bond, Bow to me, before now still, From truth ye once had to abscond, In fevers, shaken by silent will. From my hands, Whose neurons lick, The lightening to the mind. Pineal guide to beguile, Beneath the feet: the lands. The tides,...

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DIALECT recited in an English dialect & by definitio n is best heard than read-please go to the above youtube link here is the words inmy local vernacular English Aye 'ee is fierce and hale. Four mile to work,across the vale; No slommakin' slattern 'ee, Okkard as an itching flea. Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard, Garmed with mud,as thick as lard, Cla'holt of 'em...

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The Watergaw by Hugh MacDiarmid loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One wet forenight in the sheep-shearing season I saw the uncanniest thing— a watergaw with its wavering light shining beyond the wild downpour of rain ... and I thought of the last wild look that you gave when you knew you were destined for the grave. There was no light in the skylark's...

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We use to know Howt o put thinggs down. People gowin roundd, Their lives tied behindt em by a spyne of brown strings. You know we use to know howter kill cows Wid the back af wharrever, hacking instrument hong at hande D blunt end woul send your bovine friend awai So she will not com back fora longg tyme. So in that...

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I Walk into Bobby Department Store And I yelled where are the Jamaican and Barbadian at? This might sound a little weird to most, however, it’s that time of the year, when all the languages and the dialect merges follow by the real country accent of them original place Plus, some rudeness as their form long waiting lines But to...

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Patterns reveal natural Space redundancy Voiced an internal muse appositioning Pattern/Space Choice As Rhythms unveil Time's spirited enculturing multi-regenerational interdependent synergetic annual EarthTribe reviving bi-hemispheric repetition Of Light Spirited Patterns rooted in Natural In/OutSide Dark NonDualistic Space....

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Dozy with Cider The tavern was quiet but for old farmer John, when the Kings rider strode in demanding a bed, He ordered his ale and sat next to the old sage, “Where be all the villagers?” he said. Farmer John took a sip from his tankard and smiled, “What brings you to our village, good sire?” The rider frowned, then with...

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There is an old scribbler from Southwark* Who’s poetry undoubtedly sucks. She couldn’t pronounce ‘poem’, ‘Cause she rhymed it with ‘home’. Ain’t posh enough, innit, so she’s stuck! ...

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BUCKINGHAMSHIRE BOY Aye 'ee is fierce and hale. Four mile to work,across the vale; No slommakin' slattern 'ee, Okkard as an itching flea. Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard, Garmed with mud,as thick as lard, Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope, On is own,allus could cope. Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled, Even if drenched and bedraggled; In lightning 'e wore niver frit, Though the whole sky wore...

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'JACK the DAW' (In Lancashire Dialect) Struttin’ and Puffin’ his big chest out, The streets all clear, when he’s about. Inside all’doors, waitin’ for’ thump Families quake and animals jump! Mam goes to’ door, money in hand Shakin’ as she stares at his black neck band, She dares’nt look in his blue black eyes They say there’s murder an’ spent-up lies. We just...

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Comin Thro the Rye by Robert Burns modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oh, Jenny's all wet, poor body, Jenny's seldom dry; She's draggin' all her petticoats Comin' through the rye. Comin' through the rye, poor body, Comin' through the rye. She's draggin' all her petticoats Comin' through the rye. Should a body meet a body Comin' through the rye, Should a body kiss...

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Inside me, an angel almost pure, inside me one almost mild demon ... An angel of poetry, ...

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Sovrinty’s a grand ole gent, But sovrinty don’t pay the rent. I got six kids’ moufs to feed. Sqeezin’ stones don’t make ‘em bleed. Theresa gal sure went and blew it, But oo blimmin’ else is there to ’ do it? Oo else is there to clear the fog? Wot’s your take, mate? That toff, Reese-Mogg? Oo ever duzzit, do it fast! ‘ow long’s...

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