Long Vocabulary Poems
Long Vocabulary Poems. Below are the most popular long Vocabulary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vocabulary poems by poem length and keyword.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)
OMG,... and he looks...
SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today
mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
inhospitable...overplay
ying faux indulgent,
NOR be mistaken
to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
writ his'm to
gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
yuge weak accusations
(by a long shot), sans
basket of conspiring deplorables
attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
versus 4th grade reading level
trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
(as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
which doth hapt
tubby incredibly tremendous
disservice to bona fide classy idiots
with a lot of money
(like the millions and billions
of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
used by crooked Hillary,
when former Secretary of State
ideal for Putin on the Ritz
by far less exciting, with
Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
sin null property
of intern (NO FALLACY)
topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
pricked prurient peccadilloes licks
suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
ingenue Monica Lewinsky
called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping
express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
cum mincecd secrete mission
blue dress draped
expensively furred
(i.e. tricked out) in her
"FAKE" minx hiding
sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
activists vehemently protested
out-coming result
slapping former president
with a PETA file.
Oh well here I go again,
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in,
entrapped in,
torn away from addiction,
destroy the tele…
vision they strive to force upon you,
its all false but you know I’m true.
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries,
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes
with which they hypnotize,
brainwash you with their lies.
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in,
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in
here in my pretty town,
the 910 deserves a crown.
East Coast I'm representing,
I promise you I am not venting.
High on that purple haze,
And still haven't slept for days,
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze,
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic,
use words like special tactics,
unmistakable like D'Jango,
or a peace signs' angle,
destroy the crave for war and struggle,
no need to explain all the trouble,
with places burstin’ into rubble,
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell!
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead,
kick and scream till my blood is shed,
let authorities know the message will be spread!
Put on a show with a little bit of passion
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head,
all this hatred should be dead,
what I'm saying must be said,
before the gauge goes into red.
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant,
like brothers boston what I speak
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint,
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint,
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort,
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty
that you will make it this far
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose,
makin ‘em wet.
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme,
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind,
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy,
continential catastrophe,
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace
sorry for the interruption,
don’t blame me for the corruption,
for now I'll put my words at ease,
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie,
just a tease.
04.27.2013
Form:
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.
I OPENED A DOOR IN THE UNIVERSE
AND FOUND MYSELF IN A WORLD
SURROUNDED BY WHAT APPEARS TO BE
ENERGY OR SHALL WE SAY ENERGIES.
WAVE AFTER WAVE OF ENERGIES.
I HAD TO QUESTION MYSELF...
ARE THE WAVES INBOUND OR
OUTBOUND , ASCENDING OR
DESCENDING.?
WHEN I NOTICED THAT MY THOUGHTS
SEEMED TO PROJECT A FREQUENCY
THAT MINGLED WITH THE WAVES
OF ENERGY.
IT WAS THEN I REALIZED
I , WAS A FREQUENCY WAVE OF ENERGY.
IN A UNIVERSE FILLED WITH A
SYMPHONY OF MESMERIZING VIBRATING COLORS
OF ENERGIES RADIATING THE
DISPERSEMENT OF HARMONIZING FREQUENCIES.
AT THAT VERY MOMENT A THOUGHT
MATERIALIZED.
THE THOUGHT OF A PEBBLE FALLING
FREELY AND EFFORTLESSLY
INTO A MOTIONLESS , GLOSSY ,
MIRROR LIKE , BODY OF WATER.
LIKE A METEOR THROUGH
TIME AND SPACE.
THE INITIAL CONTACT CREATED A SPLASH
THAT SENT RIPPLES ACROSS
THE SURFACE, UPWARD , DOWNWARD
OUTWARD AND THROUGHOUT.
AS THE BODY OF WATER CAME TO LIFE,
I FOCUSED ON THE RIPPLES OF WATER
FOR WHAT SEEMED LIKE A LIFE TIME
OF ETERNITY.
I COULD SEE , HEAR AND FEEL
THE VIBRATION IN , AROUND AND
THROUGHOUT THE SURROUNDING ATMOSPHERE.
IT WAS AN OVERWHELMING AND
PROFOUND EXPLOSION OF SOUND.
A SYMPHONY OF ENERGIES.
IT WAS AS IF I ABSORBED THE ENERGY
TRANSLATED AND PROJECTED THE THOUGHT
" LIFE IS GREAT ".
I COULD SEE THE RIPPLES COLLIDE
WITH THE ENERGY OF THOUGHT ,
CAUSING THE SURFACE ,
OF THE BODY OF WATER ,
TO BEGIN DANCING , SPARKLING AND
CELEBRATING.
AS IF THE BODY OF WATER WERE IN
AGREEMENT.
IT BECAME ABUNDANTLY CLEAR.
I , WE , MANKIND , CAN AND DO ,
COMMUNICATE , WITH THE UNIVERSE.
OBVIOUSLY , THE UNIVERSE RESPONDS
TO OUR QUESTIONS AND THOUGHTS.
HOW WE INTERPRET THOSE
FREQUENCIES AS THOUGHTS
ARE TOTALLY UP TO US.
UNDERSTANDING THE VOCABULARY
OF LISTENING , SPEAKING , READING
AND WRITING , THE MESSAGE CAN ,
AND FOR MANY , IS A CHALLENGE.
HOWEVER , ONCE WE BEGIN TO
UNDERSTAND , WE HAVE A BETTER
CHANCE OF UNDERSTANDING
WHO AND WHAT WE ARE AS FAR AS
A LIFE FORM IN THE UNIVERSE.
WE TOO ARE A BODY OF WATER ,
ABSORBING FREQUENCIES OF
OUR UNIVERSE AND OUR
SURROUNDINGS.
UNDERSTANDING THE VOCABULARY ,
WE MAY THEN INTERPRET , AND
TRANSLATE THE UNIVERSAL
MESSAGE.
LIFE IS GREAT ...FANTASTIC...
INCREDIBLE... AND AT TIMES...
SIMPLY AND TRULY UNBELIEVABLE.
Michael E. Harris
03092023
The ultimate test of the times:
United in togetherness
We stand tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Our target for success!
Deal with this they said:
"Right is wrong and wrong is right
Up is down, in is out
What we once smiled at
Is now frowned upon."
Do I have your attention?
We have been educated
With the unbridled knowledge
Of our ancestors and the experience
Of our predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But yet have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Even though "Willie" still lives to this day.
Giving up or out
Isn't in our vocabulary
One hand reaches out to the next
And so forth and so on
We came here together
We fight here today
We leave when tomorrow comes
When there's no one left to stay
When rapturous spirits
Ascend into the Heavens
Or the "syndrome" never again sees
The light of day.
Do I still have your attention?
The reward is not a precious metal
But the feeling in your soul
As peace settles
And takes residence in your life.
Smiles and clear consciences
Aid in the balancing of educating
Youthful minds as they set forth
On their journey through life.
So when it's their turn to
Be called upon to continue on
They too will be
United in togetherness
Standing tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Their target for success.
"What's forward is now backwards
It's every man for himself."
Do I still have your attention?
With one hand reaching out to the next
And so forth and so on
We have educated them
With the unbridled knowledge
Of their ancestors and the experience
Of their predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Because in today's world
Where a society has embraced the negative
Allowed the unjustified killing of innocents
During "routine" traffic stops
Forever traumatizing families and
Blatantly decriminalizing witnessed guilt
Where known killers still walk the streets
And will never serve a day of time
A truthful insight is the only way
To keep our children ours.
We shouldn't have to
Read between the lines for anything
But now that you have
Isn't it worth your attention?
Musicianship
(3 May 2014; For my son Steven, an ACCOMPLISHED guitarist)
Real musicianship can truly drive you nuts—
There really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.
Practice, study, memorize, then more practice--
Is this just an obsession or complete madness?
Learning chord inversions, arpeggios, and scales
Is like reaching Heaven by crossing through seven Hells.
It wouldn’t be bad if there were only a dozen majors,
But there’s also those other dozen minors.
What’s worse, it seems we’re never finished
Because there’s also augmented and diminished,
The major/minor/augmented/dominant sevenths.
And symmetrical double-flatted diminished sevenths,
And if this harmonic mess is not enough,
All those dissonant Jazz chords get really tough…
Such as the sustained seconds and fourths,
The sevenths add nines, sixths, blah-blah-blah, elevenths.
And if learning all this isn’t already extraordinary,
There’s music theory and music vocabulary.
Instead of just saying “get louder”, you have to “crescendo”,
Or for “fast” or “slow” you say “allegro” or “lento”.
Then there are names like Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian,
Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, and Locrian.
(All being modes derived from scale C-major,
Plus each major scale also has a relative minor)
Multiple pattern exercises on guitar fretboards
Are even worse than finger drills on piano keyboards.
Worse, the string tuning on a six-string acoustic guitar
Is not quite the same as on a 4/5/6/7-string bass guitar.
It’s hard to get up on stage and routinely play
That same song, for the umpteenth time, in an inspiring way.
No wonder musicians seem to all suffer manic-depression,
From trying to play a full sets with unique expression.
All the advances in music equipment and technology
Bless and curse musicians like two-edged swords, you see,
Because all this work they do to sound like a maestro or genius
Can be counterfeited on a computer by a musical ignoramus.
But computer geeks won’t ever find that special place,
That fugue-like subtle sacred state of grace,
Which for brief moments is like deep meditation.
No, that’s the forbidden domain of the real musician.
To suggest that musicians all are just “gifted” naturally,
Is the absolute superlative worst insulting irony.
Truly, real musicianship can drive you nuts—
No, there really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.
It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, but who's elated about greeting thorns when picking roses from a bush or picking lemons from a tree? I observed from the start that I'd never seen a lemon tree so guarded with most of its lemons in deep and difficult to reach areas behind its new growth of limbs. It was as if the tree in 'Tartspeech'* said to me, "You are free to have and consume my lemons if you can endure the munitions of my thorns".
At the time that my wife was offered fresh lemons by a friend, I did not extrapolate the assigned mission by my wife, and prior to my first approach I had not considered the resistance I would confront nor the pain I would have to overcome. After all, some things are instinctive and routine, not necessitating calculations and strategies. I had no thoughts of the combative nature of the lemon tree until I attempted to extract its lemons. One look at the pointed thorns gave me pause and forced a distraction to count the cost of extraction. I then proceeded cautiously lest I should bleed excessively.
Also at the time, I did not count the number of my pricks, but my best guess would be 10 or less, one of which grew noticeable blood. None, however, triggered a retrenchment or convinced me to quit. I did count the lemons upon arriving home, and they totaled 82 as I recall. A nice crate of lemons for less than 10 pricks. I'd say, not a bad tradeoff.
On these early winter mornings, I have green tea and a mixture of the lemon's juices with a spoon of honey, also given by our friend. It's then that I take a different kind of pause and realize the worth of it all.
011220PoSoupCtest, Favourite Poem from January 2020, Julia Ward *Vocabulary.com Dictionary. As an adjective, tart describes a sour taste, like lemon. Website, Blurtit: Yooti Bhansali answered. ...The word is also used to denote a manner of speech that is especially bitter or blunt in the way it is spoken as well as the connotation of the spoken comment. ....
.
amin
amine (i'm losing it people...lol; it's pronounced amin)
lin
line(can one imagine, english lit teacherz, instructing their students to draw a 'lin', down the center uv their note pads) that's right, i spelled it lin, instead
uv line <-long "i"
spin
spine(or, can i take the car for a spine)
win
wine(i'm thirsty, may i have the flask uv win) <- ;)
pin
pine (i'm the cultivator uv pin nuts)
feminin<--- that's nin
feminine<-that's nine, long "i"
i speak english precious readerz, i'm still unto this day, confused with the english vocabulary, and i can't be coxed into believing, that the third syllable
in feminine, iz not pronounced "nine"<-long "i"
fem-i-nine. short i's are pronounced "i" az in, it
long i's are pronounced "i" az in, 'I' belong to her (did ;)
Iodine, turpentine...thank Yahweh i do, in
Yeshua's name, for; "poetic license", whut would i do dear poets!
Therefore, for those who indulge mine writes, know that...
"james' "feminine" iz pronounced, "fem-i-nine" az in #'9'
i should have shared this, long ago....much luv, me ;)
"This Spring"
spoke i
to
mine feminine
whom
mine feminine
"would marriage
cause yourn sing"
"cross the t's
and dot the i's"
'fore i close for the night
mine eyne"
"yes"
said shez
"yes
yes"
"it's yes"
"it's yes"
And off went
theirn green
mine Winter dreamz
dream after dream
after dream
;)
the roots – i.e. genealogy of words long held me
(no pun intended) held spell bound
e'en upon fertilization of ova and sperm viz – conception,
an acute sensory means n'er got drowned
out via the bubbling, dribbling, huzzahing...
(from within and without the womb) while in utero,
especially when me then young spring chick hen ova mum,
and cock strutting cock
(doodling his due tee) oft testes handsome dad found
their coop t'would be increased by another
(at that time no means prevailed to foretell gender,
but an old wives tale hatched
since time immemorial stubbornly persisted
if the husband put right heir (ear) to the ground
accompanied with petsmart skills of a blood hound
a close approximation could be discerned,
whether the swelling abdominal mound
would yield a son or daughter,
which second guess passed thru
the umbilical cord shaped grape vine as re noun
splendor – giving participants planning a baby shower
purchasing and showcasing an infant gewgaw
costing no mo' than a best seller by Ezra Pound
or a couple rolling stones,
preferably those flat versus being round
with assessment sans prediction per sex of offspring
offered slightly greater hedge Tibet
with recent introduction of ultra sound
nonetheless genesis (unbeknownst to either parent –
trapped in that role for a life time)
this fetus took a fancy to imbibing verbalization
that transpired between when shine
warmed the cockles and muscles of this parasite – ha –
expanding his vocabulary prior tummy birth in nine
teen hundred and...(th beh so thee ya haint tell in –
go ask aunt Roadie) or...find someone name Stein
beck, and give yaw self a pat on the back faw trine
plotting a tentative addition to family tree or
(what would turn out tubby more apropos) a vine,
cuz ma late mum referred tomb me as her little monkey
who when born deeply engrossed reading about urine
thence, when the pediatric doctor snatched the book –
BOY DID I WHINE
which out shrilled any wailing police car,
or emergency hospital siren
thus...i got christened RED (for short), yet code named 120 db
which translates as the decibel threshold for pain
even afflicting the dead poet Byron.