Spoken said
Verbalized declared enunciated
Given aired voiced
Brought out whispered
Proclaimed commented
Blurted breathed broadcasted
SPOKEN
Asserted affirmed promulgated
Spoken truths and untruths
Advertised where am I to be casted
Publicized overwhelmed subdued demoralized
BROKEN
Talked discussed uttered thrown up despaired
Vented broadcast gasped phrased up and out
Broken
Snarled shot ripped (out)
Silently diverted screams of dispersions’
Vocalized shouted articulated denounced
SPOKEN
Shared passed announced Be it so,
Spoken is the broken speech at naught
Alleged ventilated averred formulated
Drawled avowed
Doubted Be it so, spoken is the broken
BROKEN
Vocalized shouted articulated denounced
Shared passed announced
Be it so, spoken is the broken speech at naught
Broken is Spoken
Quiet marks the spot
5/4/23
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Categories:
drawled, analogy, anxiety, appreciation, senses,
Form: Free verse
Dumbass Genius Farm Boys Paradigm
David J Walker
“Genius” may have been the most ironic of all
The four-letter adverb monikers daily applied
To describe the general dissatisfaction
With any and all work performed on the farm
“Way to go Genius” was the norm as
The tearing down process was performed
Can you be a Genius and a Dumbass
at the same time
as you chime in
too late to make any sense
of the Dumbass-Genius farm boy paradigm
“What do you think Genius” was the question
To the obvious answer that goes without saying
To any coherent thing in the Kings English spoken
With a deep Texas drawl
“I know y’all aint that GD Dumb…dumbass”
“Y’all aint from round here, are ya Genius”
I couldn’t believe it either, but I was and
I could drop the F-Bomb with the best of ‘em
Forming a drawled word you’d never heard in the
Middle of a sentence never spoken in
Sunday school
“Hey Genius, get yer ass over here”
I’d heard that demand so many times that
I’d planned to send my ass and leave the
Rest of me behind
But that will be next time
Dumbass Genius
Categories:
drawled, allegory, childhood, farm,
Form: Rhyme
Cheers
I Stopped in at a Bar One Night,
Needing Some Time to Think.
It Had All Come Crashing in
And I Ordered up a Drink.
Being a Survivor of Vietnam,
Sometimes Doesn’t Seem Fair.
I Can Still See the Agony and Pain,
Of Those Boys We Lost over There.
They Would Hold My Hand and Beg.
Please God, Just Let Me Die!
I Was a Nurse But I Couldn’t Help It,
Sometimes I Would Turn Away and Cry.
The Blood and Terror Still Haunt Me,
And Faces Float Around in My Dreams.
Everyday I Live in this Hell,
It Never Ends, or So it Seems.
I Saw a Man Come into the Bar,
And He Strolled over to My Chair.
“Mind If I Sit Down?” He Drawled.
“Yes,” I Said, “Someone Is Sitting There.
He Looked Around the Room ,
And of Course I Don’t Lie Well,
I Saw His Neck Turning Red,
As He Bent down and Said,
“ You Can Go to Hell.”
He Was Just Someone Looking to Score,
He Couldn’t Have Known My Fears,
Or the Fact I Knew All about Hell.
I Raised My Glass and Smiled ......
But all I said was, “Cheers!!”
Connie Moore
August 7, 2000
Categories:
drawled, war,
Form: Rhyme
FATE DOES NOT FORGET
She cherished him long after nights had crept
Tracing his shape on byways, on footfalls
Like dangle of lint she could not forget;
Breezes waved a quick adieu, winter drawled
Amidst the rancid trees bared, and yet
Her faraway lover tracked her stroll.
Entranced, they climbed into each other’s eyes
Prompting the moon to act as fate’s ally.
Contest: Picture Perfect, Andrea Dietrich
Categories:
drawled, longing, together,
Form: Ottava rima
I saw an ogling eye whispering at me
We were at the anthill of a dried a night
Like a duck in a thunderstorm
I drawled before her wet lips
She inserted her passion into my clay, dangling my balls
I became a saint-sinner singing in the euphoria of her nipples
I am an innocent globetrotter who throttle in the winds and whims of her imaginations
Now am sucked and soaked at the sea of life
High and dry because I fell head-long to her waist
Chewing the cuds of delusions
Being at the cross purpose with my very being
A glance of her beauty is out of question
Last night, I saw grass growing under her thigh
In a twinkling, my pipe was like that of the Ethiopian Eunuch
Well, her red lips fell of the mountain
Blowing out the heat and the gush from the Nile
Confining my element with her red clay
Oceans of rumbling and tumbling escaping
Emotions mixed in motions, tongue erupting
With her powdery milk she dissected my Jupiter
I became half gone, in a half day
But her lull resuscitated me
Guess who she is?
She is Figurine.
Categories:
drawled, love, romance, red,
Form: Imagism
Philosophy 1
Our side-by-side desks were acquainted. Sadly, we were not.
Sassy and blond, Tammy Sue was a philosophy freak.
Afforded by Macon, Georgia she idolized Julia Kristeva.
I idolized Tammy Sue.
Near the end of the semester at NYU, desperately intrepid,
I dragged my suddenly torpid legs towards Tammy Sue
and blurted out a line I had just read;
“Metaphor fashions a doorway from language, leading out”.
Tammy Sue regarded me.
Cringing, I anticipated painful rejection.
“Oh, Eric” emerged from her precious lips.
“That is so CLEVER!”
she drawled; drawing out her words to last, it seemed, forever.
“We” lasted two months; then the magic of that line wore off.
“Eric, you’re so sweet” she began.
Unhinged by the dagger in my heart,
I heard only her finale,
the Lord Tennyson classic,
“I am a part of all that I have met”;
then a kiss and goodbye;
a fitting close for philosophy class.
Whenever I repeat those words I feel her part in me.
Categories:
drawled, romance, words, philosophy,
Form: Blank verse
Potty Training and Capitalism
“My Bobbie was potty trained by 13 months”
The wicked lady drawled
As she cast a sideways glance
My direction
The glance
~was noted!
My 2 year old daughter toddled around
The palpable silence
Conspicuously diapered
My wounded motherhood
Bled silently
As I vowed to the sky,
“…as God is my witness
My daughter will be trained!!!”
I worked
Begged
Bribed
Spanked
Threatened
But,
Potty Training is a Myth!!!
And…
when she finally
decided
magically
the diapers disappeared
only because she wanted the cool pull-ups
on TV
Two points for capitalism
And motherhood loses in overtime…
As I smiled slyly
When my second daughter was born
And waited patiently
For the TV to work its magic…
I’m not a bad mother,
I’m just a devoted capitalist!
Categories:
drawled, childhood, daughter, education, funny,
Form: Free verse
The child looked down a dim stairwell,
heard the sound of feet
against a hollow metal he could tell,
he peered into the darkness as he could feel the heat,
shadows glanced over him,
others were oddly chatting,
as the lights on the doorway grew dim,
brown eyes glanced down,
smoke was all around,
emergency sounds were ringing in his ear,
he was frightened and full of fear,
the child drawled,
slipped and fell,
and tried to crawl,
as he heard the fire bell,
the shadows moved closer,
they were more frightened,
the child was charred, and black,
as the fire-blaze was pushed back,
by the fire fighters who were on the attack,
they saw the child and couldn’t believe their eyes,
while still on fire the child sat up,
nothing was muttered, and there were no cries,
the child whispered with soot in his eyes,
“ I don’t want to die.”
The fire-fighter gathered his fragmented thoughts and replied,
“ You’re not going to die.”
He lied.
Categories:
drawled, losschild, fire, child, fire,
Form: Dramatic Verse
You whip me well with your goose feather quill
You poet's of knowing of rule and law.
Whisper not my name in your room or hall,
Do count my foot and meter, if you will.
Curse at my words if they cut you and still,
From low I sit that I fear not a fall.
Wait I do not, for the next curtain call.
I read my poem to just screech and squeal.
I find my writing to me is appalled,
Without form or shape penned by a cold hand.
The thought I posed is instantly with-drawled.
I find no meaning I can understand.
Poor as I am at this poetry quiz.
Addicted, I am, at the pleasure it gives.
Categories:
drawled, on writing and words,
Form: Sonnet
Every night, wrists torn, he struggles.
Pulled and pinched, until he sees without a word or a sign
That there is something broken in her.
In the early hours of every day amidst mute, stupefied faces
His head drops, horrified at his own fury. In the dark
She turns and walks down the path, sobbing draughts of air.
By her side, fallen to pieces momentarily, he touches her arm.
For an instant, in his mind, there is no motion in their equilibrium.
Her stomach is rigid, his hands cold.
Alone now he remembers something worse than misery
And cries, his broad shoulders bend to the ground -
A huge factory chimney trembling in the middle of a dead town,
Swaying before it learns to fall.
He returns to their room, aware
That time has become something different, and yet
To him, there was nothing rude or untidy there.
He looks over the railings. Bows, smiles, offers.
On his last afternoon they had walked on clearly defined sides,
His intentions a cold feast of snow, ugly and bleak.
She broke off and they were both silent.
Then she kissed him until the sky seemed to fade
And her tears seemed to vanish.
Categories:
drawled, friendship, life, lost love,
Form: Blank verse