Long Dictionaries Poems
Long Dictionaries Poems. Below are the most popular long Dictionaries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dictionaries poems by poem length and keyword.
I wonder.
I wonder what will happen when
all the English dictionaries are burnt
and Shakespeare is abolished
as FAR RIGHT and Racist,
and when the Beatles are
vilified for 'She Loves You'
when it should have
been 'they them love you'.
When the battle of Britain
Begs an unreserved apology.
When the British inventions
Are cast aside as imperial luck
When Europe forgets as the Russians
Have, who saved them in WW2
When people are imprisoned for
Love of these islands and free
Speech is abolished and punished
But this horror won’t happen tomorrow
No, not tomorrow, or the day after
But don’t feel reassured or complacent
Because they arrived months ago
And we all must be ready to pay.
David Cox 02/02/25
What is the meaning of isolation?
the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.
"the isolation of older people"
* denoting a hospital or ward for patients with contagious or infectious
diseases.
What is the meaning of insanity?
* the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.
This small virus that is infected millions of lives has left us in unwanted isolation, driving us in madness and insanity.
Lord give us patience to understand and forgive. A solution for the outbreak so it will come to an end.
Like the squirrel in “Ice Age,” a 2002 American computer-animated comedy film. It is trying so hard to keep the last pinecone left on earth, but seem to elude him. Has it come to that?
Quote:
Proverbs 17:22
A joyful mind maketh age flourishing: a sorrowful spirit drieth up the bones.
*New International Version
*Oxford Dictionaries
EMOJIS' SEEM TO BE ENOUGH
Please and thank-you,
Do you often hear these words,
Shops, offices, even schools,
Lack the use,
Only nerds adopt them, what a bore,
Do we need to use dictionaries
Any more!!!!!
Shortened versions on messages
WhatsApp’s and texts
Pls. And tx, or plz and thk-u,
Oh wow then you really are with it,
But for proper English, only
Correct words shine as a jewel.
And then we have hello and goodbye,
How’s it, hi there, hey, hi dude,
None of the above are rude,
In fact, somewhat refreshing,
And somehow begetting,
Hello, is so ubiquitous,
So totally all encompassing,
So, surrounding.
Chou, see ya, catch you later,
Youngsters of today are present,
So, awe inspiring.
But it is sad to not use these
Four precious words,
Maybe in scrabble and crosswords,
One hundred points should
Be the reward,
Please and thank-you, hello
Or goodbyes, say them
Out loud,
In the company of one,
Or in a crowd.
On rethinking about the word goodbye
Perhaps it sounds too final,
So, our present generation
Find it cool,
To rather say, see you soon,
Light and hearty like a
Hot air balloon.
But for each one of these words
And for thousands more,
There are emoji’s
Which can all on their own
Tell a story and so
We are going back to Egyptian
Hieroglyphics, which
Millennium are we in
And who will in
The end win!!
My thinking does'nt go beyond you!
You are my limitation,
These are the true words from my heart,
Its not an imitation.
I wanna ask you one thing!!
Will you cry?.. when I would die!!
But I feel like dying whenever you are crying.
"Whats happiness means to you??"
All have diffrent meanings for it, in their dictionaries.
Its something like finding reliefs from all your worries.
For someone's its getting their lost love,
For some its the time when fall in love.
Parting is a lake of sorrow,
But it gives you a hope for tomorrow.
It depends on you,
How you take up the situation,
what kind of person you are
And from where you got the motivation.
Form:
Millie, the mermaid was a reading machine.
It started with a shipwreck, among the marine.
A library for a king had gone down in the wreck.
I can teach myself to read, she said without genuflect.
She started with picture books, one word on a page
Those old Dick, Jane and Sally texts which tells my age.
Moved on to primers and dictionaries with pix.
Now she is reading novels, instead of watching flicks.
She has read almost every book in this library now.
Currently reading a textbook on how to raise a goat or cow.
If I had legs, I would get on land and grab more books she groused.
I’d read poet from Poe, Coleridge, Emerson, Browning and Foust.
Pedants fume helpless and seethe with rage,
But linguists surrender to the age,
Media always misuse
Commoners to confuse,
But rage not, time has turned a tired page.
______________________________________________________
It is the age of freedom, free for all. Words are used any which way. Grammar ultimately follows usage. Take epicentre. It may sound a bit grander than just centre, but it is used only in context of earth-quakes. But media prefer epicentre in all contexts— political, social, economic, any. Pedants and classicists and linguists may boil with rage. But dictionaries will ultimately capitulate and compromise. So, make no fuss, or you will be called doctrinaire, worse, obscurantist or obfuscator, or in the worst case a nit-picker hair-splitter. Alas, you thought you were a sophist and a scholar!
______________________________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |05.05.14 |
I sit in the garden...
but not my usual focus:
(lush, red Lincoln
Roses, nor magpies
splashing one another,
frolicking in the
birdbath, like children
in a rubber pool, having
oceans of fun. No –
today, not larger,
more colorful – easily
recognizable and beloved
by all, but smaller things
join the particles of
of my lately fragmented
view of the universe)
infinitely small things
hang in my mind
as snow crystals seeming
aimlessly confused in
in a glow of street lamp,
frantic for direction on
a windy, snowy eve;
as those random stars
on a beaming night of
cloudy reflection,
flickering in and out of
clarity – I do not find old age
a particularly fond climax
for a life honestly spent,
though admittedly, not
always of service, when it
comes selfless obligations.
At the moment, my senses
travel a path of sunlight,
illuminating what is often
hidden between the
blades of green foliage
or in folds of petals –
I think of how concentrated
life can be, whether small
or large when viewed from
different vantage points along
the paths of seasonal structure
and annihilation – I think about
how all larger things are
made up of much smaller, often
unseen mysteries...illusive specks
gleaming, then disappearing quickly
from sight, their sprinting rays
explosively flashing – but
just as abruptly extinguished
between dawn and a lingering
sliver of decomposing night...
in the afterglow, I witness
rainbows gloriously manifesting
within a spray of fountain water,
absent from view before
awakened my mind to hidden
pockets of animation, and the
potentially seamless folds
in the nature of projected
journeys – some, perhaps,
momentarily sleeping
but never denied a rightful
aspect for fantastic dream…
each, may it be large or small
somehow of great importance,
I search the riddle
of my often
overlooked depths...
dotting my I’s and
crossing my T’s,
in a Free Verse Dimension
writing new dictionaries,
phrases casting off their
shackles and bursting free
from nests of incubating
concentration
– profoundly in
need of
living
punctuation…
DEVOTION POEM 5, “Unspoken” ***** (for Jim Eslinger)
Young and new to each other,
There was always too much to say.
Glancing around in restaurants, we’d notice
What so many friends remarked on when seeing
Those older couples staring at their water goblets
Or their fingers and never conversing —
Not a breath spent one to the other...
Thus, we swore, we’d never ever be like that.
Until now, we are as the telepathy of time
Often does story — full with unspoken exchanges
And kindnesses, like when I want more coffee
And Jim has signaled a waiter before I signaled him,
Or there are things regarding our surroundings:
The commotion and din; notes about raindrops;
And the phases of the moon; points of quality;
Jabs of conflict; moments of pain; and expressions
Of known love. Thus so, our lives joined are
Evermore outside of dictionaries and essays,
Even overtopping poems.
We speak in being:
Together.
————————————————————
(c) sally Young Eslinger 8/2020
Thanks be to God
There’s a Nobel Prize for Peace
There’s probably one for war
I’d like to plead the case
For adding just one more
They say he was just a hungry toff
Feeling the need of a quick snack
Between some few games of cards
Thus allowing him quickly back
To those gentlemanly pursuits
Worthy of a man of his station
But to all us modern rushed folk
He’s the benefactor of the nation.
Johnson perfected dictionaries
Wellington his really useful boots
Worthy causes there no doubt
Scarce worth the merest of hoots
Compared to Earl of Sandwich
With his eponymous fast food
Easily and quickly adapted
To every nuance and mood
So lift your glasses please
Ply toasts upon the head
Of the man who first invented
Fun with two slices of bread
All hail to thee, John Montagu
The world doth owe great debt to you
So, very much like the velvet softness of poetry.
It doesn't bang like a drum in your ear.
Nor is it the sound of raucous laughter in a cheap, bawdy, theatre.
Big words that provide nothing but confusion?
Do you expect poets from huge dictionaries to get contusions?
Poetry is anything but tap dancing in garish poet costumes
on the poetry stage.
Some are poets genuine, not poet impostors.
Anyone can follow a form, let's face it and claim to be a poet, how
poorly they fake it,
The true poet has a heart and loud drums and a chortling crowd
cannot erase it.
Being cheap and tawdry,is not a poet's fare.
He or she has a handle on life's heartbeat which they handle with
The tender sound of a windchime's gentle sound and share.
10/18/2020
Opus# 3