Dialogue Poems - Poems about Dialogue

The silent rehearsal of words, a conversation held within the confines of my own skull. Each phrase tested, turned over, examined for its weight, its potential to land just so. I am speaking to you, even when you're not here. The arguments I construct, the apologies I craft, the confessions I almost make— they echo in this quiet room, a phantom dialogue that never quite reaches your ears. It's a way...

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And the Lord will say to them on Judgment Day, “I was hungry, and you defunded my food aid programs. I was thirsty, and you rolled back drinking water protections. I was a stranger, and you snatched me and deported me. I was naked, and you gave tax breaks to billionaires. I was sick, and you cut Medicaid and Medicare. I...

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Oh Sweet rose of the night come and dine with me tonight drop your petals in the bosom of the sea and raise your eyes towards the skies and gaze at the stars as they pass by What sweet fragrance flying in the air Spreading its petals far and near Oh purple rose of the night come and be...

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Good and browned, for you, a pancake round, flipped and stacked, a joy so profound, or perhaps, I'll share, a waffle square, with pear for extraordinary flair. Flair, is great for a flapjack of wheat, square, wonderful for a Belgian treat. Profound, indeed, is a poppy seed - round about now, that's just what I need sprinkled upon a...

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I have this superpower It's more like a curse I can hold conversations with people in my head But I can't do that in real life It's why I avoid people If there's no one there I don't have to struggle to talk to anyone I don't have to constantly look at my word count And worry if I'm reaching my word...

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Me to You: Cyber touches Reaching out Overnight Give a shout Message me I'm right here I keep my phone Very near You to Me: It's too windy Windows shake I get nervous You awake? You're always up Counting sheep One question for you Don't you sleep? ...

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Neither academic, nor preacher, nor politician, nor judge, But a writer, with a fetish for the act of creation — Not to broadcast my thoughts, or to synthesize critiques for others, But for the vanity of publication, the fleeting pride of being known. As I set the first word down, the tumult in my mind, Mirrors that of a crusader,...

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You say to me, “why don’t you go away?” “I’m thousands miles away already, as you know Where to fly from here, where to stay There’s no direction I can take to go” “Stay where you are”, you say, “I’ve no concern About your present life, your past and future I have a share of troubles on my own And I don’t...

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The moon? A king that needn’t tout his might, just lounges up there, cool as a cucumber, as stars tumble like glitter from some cosmic party, just enough shimmer to keep us wondering: who’s really in charge - us or them? The sun elbows its way in, boisterous and brilliantly loud, flinging gold across the sky like confetti, yelling, “Let’s go! Daylight’s wasting!” It...

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In my mind, preoccupation Occurs from time to time. One example is me trying To make my words rhyme. Beside my creativity Exists a certain place... So, I introduce to you My video head space. Often, fragments of cinema Appear inside my head. These can be triggered at random Or thought of instead. Television was a mentor When I was much younger. Its visuals and soundscapes Would satisfy my...

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Head: I'm the thinker, the planner, the seat of all-knowing Hand: Yeah? Well I'm the doer, the maker, the one who keeps showing Head: Books and theories, that's where wisdom lies Hand: Spare me your lectures, your highbrow surprise Head: Without me, you're just fumbling in the dark Hand: Without me, you're just ideas without a spark Head: I process information,...

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I'm praying that you make it I'm aware of what you facing, Life can make you feel complacent but to me you're so amazing, More to me than just a name many may not know your fame, But I know how much you changed cause I was going through the same, In the mirror contemplating seeing sadness in your...

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A feller I met with a twinkle in his eye Quite the enigma you see. Said, "I ain't got no dough... not a single penny!" Said he, "ain't got no cash... not a single plug for a cup o' tea." "Couldn't buy you no drink / not even a dime's worth of time Wouldn't dare ask you for no...

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I didn't know what the existent desire is until I met you today Your hope scarry me though we exhilarating nil bad will happen to us...

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James Joyce: In winding streets of Dublin, I did dwell, found Ulyssean tales to weave and tell. In this modern age, voices rise anew. What themes thrive, Margaret, in works like you? Margaret Atwood: Ah, James, your stream, like a cerebral trance, misogyny flows, creative mischance. Your women, mere vessels, for male desire. In the wake of the past, can your tales inspire? James Joyce: Misogynist,...

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