Long Dictionary Poems
Long Dictionary Poems. Below are the most popular long Dictionary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dictionary poems by poem length and keyword.
What Democracy
Democracy, in Britain is nothing but a lie.
From the dictionary the word should be deleted
Whilst democracy’s the slogan that politicians cry
The majority of us feel that we’ve been cheated
With political correctness forced upon us every day
Just in case the casual word may cause offence
If you have a strong opinion be careful what you say
Even though you may be talking perfect sense
When we joined the E.E.U. I’m sure we took the view
It would give a larger market for our trade
Yet now our mighty nation has a legal obligation
To abide by regulations Brussels made
The referendum was denied, the politicians lied
These decisions were decided by the few
It was no doubt understood, M.Ps thought it would be good
With a total disregarding of our view
MP’s pull out all the stops to try to fill our shops
With G.M foods that we don’t want to eat
Whilst cameras check our speed on roads where there’s no need
We’d be better off with coppers on the beat
If when confronted by a crook you land a good right hook
You may think that he deserved it, it’s his fault
When he is on probation you’ll be locked up down the station
To appear before a jury for assault
When travellers leave a mess, you’d be spot on if you guess
That authorities will turn an eye that’s blind
Yet drop a *** end in the street and before it hits your feet
You will get an instant ticket and be fined
If asylums what you seek and English you can’t speak
Benefits are paid for your welfare
But if your British and your old, your property is sold
To pay for any time you are in care
If you chastise your child, because he has run wild
That law will on your collar give a tug
For no matter what you say, do-gooders rule the day
Even though the child may grow into a thug
In the interest of fair play referendums are the way
The majority decide just where we go
We shouldn’t change our laws or take part in futile wars
To massage a political ego
When we are due a big election, parties vie for our affection
Promising the things they have in store
It fair gives us the hump, they should take a running jump
They must realise we’ve heard it all before.
It is hard to understand who governs our fair land
Or who it is that makes up all our rules
Our politicians bore us, or totally ignore us
Democracy in Britain! It’s for fools!!.
.
Form:
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
(Chorus)
You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.
(Verse)
I will ruffle trouble
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.
When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool,
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top.
(Chorus x2)
(Verse)
That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.
(Chorus x2)
(Verse)
You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.
(Chorus x2)
Où allons nous? Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Where are we going” by T. Wignesan
Ils sont venus dans une petite ville
Une bande à moitié nue soumise silencieuse
Tout ce qui restait de leur tribu.
Ils sont venus à leur vieux territoire bora
Où beaucoup d’hommes blancs maintenant vont et viennent
comme des fourmis.
La pancarte de l’agent immobilier dit: “Il est permis de jeter
des ordures ici.”
Maintenant les ordures couvrent plus que la moitié du cercle
de bora.
“Nous sommes maintenant comme des étrangers, mais la
tribu blanche est en réalité des étrangers.
La terre nous appartient, sommes nous les héritiers des
vieilles coutumes.
Nous sommes la corroboree* et la terre bora.
Nous sommes de vieux rites, les lois de nos aïeux.
Nous sommes des contes des émerveilles du Temps de Rêves,
des légendes racontées de tribus.
Nous sommes le passé, les chasses et les jeux qui nous font rire, les feux allumés autour de nos campements ici et là.
Nous sommes des éclairs sur la Colline Graphemba
Eclatants et effrayants,
Et le Tonnerre venant après lui, ce gars bruyant.
Nous sommes le lever du soleil silencieux
Illuminant pas à pas la lagune enterrée par la nuit.
Nous sommes des ombres-épouvantes revenant
subrepticement aux feux de campement qui
s’éteignent doucement.
Nous sommes la Nature et le Passé, tout ce qui comporte nos
vieilles traditions
Maintenant en train de disparaître ici et là.
Les broussailles sont détruites, ainsi la chasse et la
rire.
L’aigle, lui, est déjà parti, l’émeu et le kangourou ont aussi quitté les lieux.
Le cercle du bora a disparu.
La corroborée a disparue.
Et nous sommes en train de disparaître.
*An Australian Aboriginal dance ceremony which may take the form of a sacred ritual or an informal gathering. 'Aborigines living in the coastal Kimberley region of Australia's top end sometimes dance a corroboree re-enacting the arrival of dingoes to Australia. (Oxford English Dictionary)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
A poetry
is a collection
of words that expresses
author's emotion or idea
sometimes with as specific rhythm or rhyme
Poet uses a figure of speech
that makes a comparison
between two things
that are basically different
but something in common
The metaphor does not use
the words 'like' or 'as'
But some poetry has words 'like' or 'as'
that is called a simile
The two poetic techniques are almost always there, but not seen
Poetry is a feeling that author wants the reader
to understand
Sometimes a heart breaking arrow shattering
or even joyful sunny day like when you were born
Poetry is a gift that everyone can write
People use poetry in novels and narratives
Some lines have animals, objects or human qualities
The words fill the page with imagery
to give feelings
Describing the plain into special words
It uses the five senses
So that the readers can touch and taste
Readers can smell
Readers can see
Readers can hear
Poems are like crumbs of a cookie
All you just have to do
Is to select the right words
And make the reader sense
Feel the feelings that you've put into
It's like stars
They sing with heart
They try to send you a message
About their experiences
How they've felt in the sticky situations
Some poets uses words
that aren't in the dictionary
Those words might be sound words
Explosion sounds maybe spelled, "BOOM!" or "MEOW"
Those words are called onomatopoeia
Some poems are so still without them
It makes the poet feel not right
They feel like something is missing
That's what poets think about
Reading it over and find out what's missing to deliver
When poets give an animal, object, idea, or human qualities
That's called a personification
When words dances into your mind
Imagining the worded movements
Sometimes it's just so easy that you miss them
Some poems have alliteration
The fist consonant sound is repeated
In several words
In the same line of a poem like
Something slid solemnly stood
Poetry is a great kind of writing
If you're the kind of person
Who doesn't like that much writing
You might fall for this writing
Because this kind of writing you need time
Poetry is a great kind of writing
If you're the kind of person
Who loves to express your feelings
You might like this kind of writing
Because this kind of writing you need heart
What Holds More Resplendent Gifts Of The Great And Vast Beyond
Seas of poetry orations, I once took my swims
being strong in spirit, stouter in heart and lithe of limbs
What dread had I of illness or passage of Father Time
when great beauty of verse sang so deep, dancing in its rhyme
Waves of its amber grains, its sandy beach, its great pleasures
stirred heart, pleading soul in immeasurable measures!
If tired, I cast myself upon lands flowing true and fair
seeing magnificence in Earth, Life, Nature- everywhere
Before dawn, before slumber flees this soul's poetry dreams
of paradise shores, poetic thoughts, soft cast golden beams
Winds of change and sublime words to describe and thus to match
castles of hope, beauty's grace and golden eggs- set to hatch!
Fearing not of, high flying fancies and heavenly flights
of lost romantic desires, cast adrift on stormy nights
Or that of abandoned ships left behind in gleaming seas
for poetry gifts its love and blessings of granted pleas
Bountiful harvests of word-seeds so pleasurably sown
are but summer days sending cool winds so gratefully blown!
What holds more resplendent gifts of the great and vast beyond
than poetry, its powers, which poets are so very fond
How its paintings, colors memories one sweetly recalls
of life, living and flames of hot-romance youth often falls
Beyond poetic seas of white-cropped waves and foaming foam
may this old poet's soul, in death, forever gaily roam!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-03-2018
Rhyme, (Inspired verse) (Poetry is Life and Treasure too)
Note- I dedicate this poem to my very good friend Susan Ashley and her wondrously inspiring new poem that inspired me to write this today.
Her new poem titled, The Red Leaf- set me to thinking of its beautiful poetry
and life. And how much poetry means to so many dedicated and in love with poetry poets!
I sat down and this flowed right on out, early this morn.
Note: Use in my poem of "white-cropped" = "white" for good, "cropped" for "appearing unexpectedly".
Thus translated- beyond poetic seas of = unexpectedly good waves and foaming foam.
Definition of “crop up” - English Dictionary
American
English
“crop up” in American English
See all translations
crop up
-pp-
— phrasal verb with crop US ? /kr?p/ verb [ T ] -pp-
?to happen or appear unexpectedly:
Dear New Poet,
Modern poetry to me engages readers in seeking their own deep or higher meaning to life experiences. It utilizes symbolism imagery and varied verse that speaks to intellect and emotion.
The best advice I have is that which was given to me:
1) Read all types of poetry every chance you can. Make notes of poets you like and why; note poetry forms that appeal to you.
2) Make lists of words, expressions, phrases you find fascinating, interesting, anything that grabs your attention. Also, keep lists of new words and definitions. I use phone apps for notes, lists, thesaurus, dictionary.
3) Write about your own experiences, beliefs, life. Write in a quiet place. Jot down whatever comes to mind, your feelings. Anytime you get an inspiration, write it down, record it. Those thoughts you just know you will remember forever will float away in no time at all.
4) Experiment. Try different word placements, edit edit, edit. Leave it for awhile or overnight. Edit again. Read your piece outloud. Pay attention to awkward points and edit those.
5) Have fun with it. Throughout the day, observe situations and people. Be open to suggestions and critiques. Poets never stop learning.
A workshop assignment led me to poetry at a time when I was emotionally on overload. Besides being therapeutic, writing poetry gives me a sense of accomplishment.
Favorite THEMES include the joy and pain of 1) Love, 2) Family, 3) Sobriety, 4) Death, 5) Nature.
My favorite REFERENCE sources are: 1) rhymezone.com, 2) howmanysyllables.com, 3) PoetrySoup Cliche Finder, 4) smallseotools.come, 5) shadowpoetry.com
Favorite poems I have written are: 1) Grandsons, 2) Absence, 3) Remembering Johnna, 4) Lady, 5) Surrender or Die, 6) Pocket Watch 2, 7) Time Of Us, 8) No More, 9) Girls of Halloween, 10) Halloween Birthday.
My literary BACKGROUND: Always an avid reader, journalism courses led to newspaper editing and reporting. After 25+ years of a successful medical research and transcription career, physical problems forced a change. As a member of a local writers group, two short stories were published, and in the last few years, as an aspiring poet, several poems have been published.
Possible Title - Let Your Poems Say It For You
May 15, 2018
Tips For Modern Poetry Contest by Line Gauthier
Third Place
Today we celebrate Noah Webster and his creation…the dictionary…without them you might say we’d be speechless…we’d have no vocabulary.
For how important are words once they form within our heads…with their ability to evoke emotions the moment they are said.
A word, itself, is not beautiful or ugly…complimentary or demeaning…it’s only in the context and the way we say it that gives a word it’s meaning.
Words when spoken from a place of love have a musical refrain…words when spoken from a place of hate are meant to damage and cause pain.
Some words make us feel good and bring with them happiness…let me name a few…there’s freedom, laughter, joy, peace, love, compassion and family too.
Some words when uttered leave fear and sorrow in their wake…like Alzheimer’s, Aids, war, death…tornado and earthquake.
I remember when a friend informed us her doctor wanted to see…if cancer was growing inside her…so she ordered a biopsy.
Biopsy…now there’s a word with the ability to fill ones heart with fear…as you anxiously and hopefully wait for the doctor to say the words you want to hear.
It’s interesting that as word spread of her biopsy that was planned….words of encouragement came rushing to her from all across the land.
Words of love…of compassion and support…words easy to comprehend…drifted softly…blended together and landed on our friend.
Our words were one way of showing her we were thinking of her…that we cared…one way to let her know her fear and apprehension was something we all shared.
And as we all awaited the results…hoping our world might realign…our apprehension turned to exhilaration when we heard the word…benign.
It is amazing how one day one word can cause so much woe..so much anguish and concern…and the next day another word replaces it allowing joy and happiness to return.
And so I wonder if Mr. Webster, the lexicographer, would agree…if we only used kind word from his dictionary…how happy we’d all be.
How words of kindness and love are an investment used to gather friends…and one day, when we need it…those words pay dividends.
For when I think of our friend’s frightening experience…it is the words of her friends I recall….leaving me to wonder if words of love…of support…of kindness…of compassion and of friendship…aren’t the most beautiful words of all.
Love the oldest,
Love the youngest,
The smallest,
The broadest.
Imperfectly perfect,
Proudly humble.
Endlessly end,
Peacefully troubled.
Quietly lousy,
Uncountable counting.
Pleasurable painful,
Ungainly gainful.
Resurrecting in killing,
Smiling in weeping.
Coming in going,
Abiding in departing.
Truth in lies,
Open-mindedness in sly.
Elevation in humiliation,
Built in destruction.
Unity in separation,
Honesty in temptation.
Standing in tribulation,
Thanking in starvation.
II
Love a burning fire,
But never to consume.
Even though she wonders,
But she never get confused.
Love is the source of life,
The fountain of light.
Love, so above death.
And she has no end.
The she's highly immortal,
But she in love with the mortal.
She is sane,
But love the insane.
She is so peaceful
But she's found in a troublesome place.
So careful,
She sojourns in this careless cave.
In an offensive place to pardon,
In sinful house to forgive.
Descending to comfort the abandoned,
Coming so low for poor to give.
Going blind to see,
Far away to come near.
Hardened heart to believe ,
Becoming deaf to hear.
Pleading in rejection,
Blessing the prosecutor.
Hunted but growing,
Hated but reigning.
Too real to the fools,
Because is so true.
Erred men don't believe its free,
Because is so cheap.
So abundantly, but only few has it.
The people she love are rejecting.
If you find one you're lucky,
Because she's one blood thing you can't just inherit.
My solemnity
Oh! I need you thou love,
I wonder if I can in men find one.
I can trade my eyes for it,
Because I know in her will I clearly see.
Really, men are so many.
But how many can truly love?
Marriage can be done within ten minutes,
But are mostly grounded in lust.
If you say you're true lover,
Show it to many like that pauper.
Don't only love your rich husband,
Show love to your maiden servant.
Preaching and boasting of it on the pulpit,
Have you ever have a meal with the poor?
Show it when sad and when happy,
Accommodate your enemies' daughter and son.
Tis easy to love our family,
That's not in the dictionary of we lovers.
It is easier for us to love the whole country,
And those that has once make us suffer.
9/20/16
I am Caroline Foster.
I am fifteen-years-old.
I am shortish.
I am rather thin.
I am intelligent I guess.
I am oblivious.
I am weird.
I am childish.
I am different and not in a good way.
I am the girl who sits in the front of the class because I am expected to.
I am the young actress who can only find her voice through being someone else.
I am the nerd people only become friends with so I can do their homework.
I am an encyclopedia, Google, and a dictionary all rolled in one.
I am an outsider.
I am the one who will never be accepted because of my social awkwardness.
I am and will never be anything more than a textbook.
I am only a tool.
I am scarred from the knives I have cut into my own wrists.
I am depression, a dark room with the light switch torn out.
I am anxiety that screams with deafening volume just to keep me chained to the ground.
I am the one who’s supposed to know all the answers.
I am expected to be a perfect little robot who should never step out of line.
I am afraid to accept myself for who I am because of fear of the judgement and rejection of others.
I am the girl who is taken advantage of because they know I’m too scared to say “no.”
I am terrified of failure and not meeting the highest of standards.
I am hideous.
I am disgusting.
I am so ugly that to attract a guy I have to hide behind pounds of makeup.
I am sick and tired of being labeled by my skin, religion, GPA, cup size, and my face.
I am done hiding in the shadows and letting the opinions of others control me.
I am waiting every day for it to be my last just so I can get away from all the hate.
I am suicide ready to happen.
But, I am beautiful.
But, I am unique.
But, I am still that wide-eyed dreamer who just wants to write.
But, I am a writer of stories that could change the life of one.
But, I am not what others think of me
I am not just another face among billions of others.
I am chosen.
I am a daughter of God.
I am here for a reason.
I am me and still discovering what being me means.
And I am okay with that.
I am telling you to rip off the history and stereotypes that you have been forced to lug around for so long.
I am showing that no matter who you are, there is still light at the end of the tunnel.
I am Caroline Foster.
Who are you?