Long Voluble Poems
Long Voluble Poems. Below are the most popular long Voluble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Voluble poems by poem length and keyword.
Voluble, vocal
He didn’t agree
She remained non-committal
He thought, “It’s so dull.”
As he wanted everything
In black and white
Too suddenly
Too quickly
His watch words
Transparency and openness
No roundabouts, no guess
Scared to offend
She tried to mend
Willy-nilly toed the line
Bringing a sparkle
And a shine
To the relationship
Which now seemed
To take off
After the initial blip
Resulting in gushings
And outpourings
Too much
Too soon
Suspense killed
Mystery resolved
Thrill evaporated
Excitement got jaded
Relationship meandered
Before coming to a halt
He wondered
But could not pin the fault
Eventually asked
‘Who messed?’
She replied,
“Things would have been better
If unexpressed”
A golden fish in the
Blui-sh ocean of love
A Flounder with no blunder
That makes me hover at yonder
Like a loose hook surfing for
A Deltan fish with a Yoruba scale
Dupsy, the Dace
Vaunting several medals with curtsy
Dabbling like a Dab in a race
Against the Lampreys and Spermaceti
I salivate endlessly beholding
Your rare but momentous beauty
Portable and wrap-able in
“War able” situation
Remember your twirling thighs
Flaunting without blemish
Your voluble hips like that
Of no one but J - LOOO
Helpless I remain setting
My eyes on your ever charming eyes
Winking at me with a smile
That graciously get you noticed
A voluptuous you remain.
Keeping our promise
Keeping my words
Keeping your covenant
To be with me all along
As a rodent in my Heart
As I re-echo to strive on
Until I become the Knight
And the war Lord of the People’s Army
Advocating for the less privilege
Mobilising and Strategizing for
A revolution to come
Where we will have a land
Full of honey, milk and
Manner from Earth
For the consumption of all
And sundry.
Then, I mean,
Then only
You shall proudly become
My Queen twisting your
Bakassi only in front
Of my Pennisular
Lest I forget
As you voyage along with me
In our historic sojourn
Am promising to continue
The witty-wagging moment
With seasonal wanderlust.
Alayande Stephen T.
23rd September 2005
2.30pm
Form:
That she is still my golden dace
That she hadn’t lie to me
That she forever twist to me
Her glittering voluble hips
That she can still show case
Her ever-charming eyes to me
How I wish . . .
That I can still be the only Knight
In her with my wandering white horse
That I can always remain the only
Rodent in her divided heart
That I can have her wrap up
Always in my warm-up body
How I wish . . .
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
10th August 2006
3.28pm.
I decided to quit with her after considering
The last discussion we had. A follow up to
The poem “And we lied “.
Chants,
voluble. Tremors from footholes of mountains
and green places . . .
From spurts of melodies they come,
chants of our land
chants of our masters
and chants of ceremony
Virgin tempo,
with reverence and arrangement of cowried ankles
and bodies that speak of soot,
eyes powdered in white . . .
Restless Chants,
preserved for the Masters
anthems and pledges, oaths
and allegiances
to those who witnessed the day
invaders scaled the city walls
without shame.
Chants,
redolent of native blood,
omu, ogirishi and nzu;
with syncopations treading heavily
on this clammy, humus ground
and sprinkled with articles of
common ancestry;
and feathers which speak of the
eagles that sired the hawks and
the kinsmen of royal birds;
and there were femurs from
baptized reptiles who have never
squelched in rancid mud for the
first time;
and elements of vegetation thrived —
animated spear grass and achara,
becoming tools that spoke in this
fiesta;
beads scattered and flung, and yet
held in place by throbs coming
from hollow grounds, excavated heaths
and re-greened holes . . .
Chants.
Spelling names and occupations of
town criers and the village folks;
tempos revealing deeds and valour
and journeys to where chameleons
have made their borders . . .
These deeds they spelled of the Masters,
whose bodies alone fell to the invaders —
sons of sophists —who wrecked our
city.
Chants,
heroes’ epic unknown,
dirges un-deciphered,
methods of assembly —principles only
of patriotic chanters,
with fire and pain in their stomachs,
chanting Chants for the Masters.
My cousin’s daughter was to get married
at a place some 80 km from the residence.
I was asked to drive her there and I agreed,
it was like my daughter’s wedding in a sense.
So in the afternoon of a chilly winter day
we’d started, the bride occupied the backseat
with two other girls, I’d no idea who were they,
must be two of her best friends, I hadn’t met.
All the talking was done by her voluble friends,
the bride was quiet all through the journey,
thinking perhaps of life-changing occasion grand
or by then she was too tired to talk, probably.
We reached the venue late, a full half an hour.
I told them to get down quick and rush inside,
I’d join them and others after I park the car
and bring the flowers I bought for the bride.
When I came back I heard there a big commotion.
The bride who was to come with me was missing.
I realized what had happened in second’s fraction,
went back to the car, found her on backseat sleeping.
Her friends were busy talking, didn’t clearly hear me.
The happening for me wasn’t a thing quite so funny.
June 29, 2018.
An applaud in negative
In writing or voluble,
Appreciate one must
To further spring up,
A poetic grand slam !
Sarcastic comments
Take digs at you,
Aggressive remarks
The missiles,
To drop you dead !
Throwing a frisbee
Beyond reproach,
Reprimand,
Rebellion,
Give or do battle !
A censure,
Although Depreciates ,
Distresses and Disheartens,
Repel depression,
Essentiates introspection !
Be factualistic,
Don't divagate,
Be dianoetic,
Argue and analyse,
Put on a thinking cap !
Written on 5/5/14
Contest- slamming battle - 1
Sponsor- Verlena S. Walker
Now for contest- slamming season
Sponsor- PD A
Entered contest on 26/5/14
Now for contest- slam the slam
Sponsor- SKAT A
On 30/5/14
WONDERS OF IX A (2019)
Millennium is a box of wonders which crave
To get knowledge, values, principle and love.
In my satchel I have eight wonders that drive
Me crazy, frenzied, rabid. But lo how I love
All of them. Composed, wise sane and active
Never fought like cat and dog, or out move.
The first gems Radhika and Ansh, my nerve
One very intelligent, diligent, other silent groove,
Charming, diligent, a helping hand, a sweet dove.
Second are Vidhi and Dhruv, who do their give
Best, oppose, are animadvert, but most all of
Love teachers. Third Pranjal and Mustafa brave
Charming, exasperating, lovely, do behave
Cooly, assist me in executing discipline, gave
Best of them, never rude or arrogant do they prove.
Fourth are Chahat and Vishnu, tacit, cute curve,
Taciturn, intermittently garrulous but catch nerve,
One a couch potato, other eats humble pie is brave.
Fifth wonders are Shikha and Shashank, positive
In my class, effusive, gabby, loquacious, talkative
But sweet natured children, take care of AC groove.
The next wonders are Milsi and Kanan, Gujju native,
Another prolix, chatty and gabby ones who grieve
With Dwij for class indiscipline; all sweethearts of
Sanket, caring, dormant, at times quarrelsome, at eve
Spend time contemplating on their studies. Above
All is Dweesha and Dwip, short tempered, proactive,
Loquacious, friend in enemy, reserved is ready give
Their 100 percent against me with conjurer's glove,
But close to my heart. The last but not least brave
Girl is Vidhi, a Jain, reputed, calm, cute, does have
Empathy for me and Krunal. A sweet girl, will leave
Never just, devoted, staunch behaviour, an octave
Of skills, trustworthy, allegiant, harmonious dove.
In a nutshell, all sixteen are big bucks, a brown clove.
All these eight wonders with Dev, Helik, Vasu move
Crumblesome elements out of my class - proactive.
Mithil, Harsh, Sarthak are above the salt persons. Five
More are wonders driving away my talent out of cave.
I thank again most reverent Kekul madam to pave
A voluble path of IX A with such obedient constructive
Students. Guidance of Sandeep and Sushil inductive;
I counted noses, am success with method inductive.
All dandies, make me a proud, ostentatious teacher alive.
My late cousin’s daughter was to get married
at a place some 80 km from their residence,
I was asked to drive her there and I agreed,
it was like my daughter’s wedding in a sense.
So, in the afternoon of a chilly winter day
we started, the bride occupied the backseat hot
with two other girls, I’d no idea who were they,
must be two of her best friends, I thought.
All the talking was done by her voluble friends,
the bride was quiet all through the journey,
thinking perhaps if her free life-style would end,
or she was exhausted, too tired to talk, probably.
We reached the venue late, a full half an hour,
I told them to get down quick, rush to the room,
I would join them and others after I park the car
and bring the bouquet I bought for the groom.
When I came back I heard there a big commotion,
for the bride I brought with me was missing,
I realized what had happened in second’s fraction,
went back to the car, found her on backseat sleeping.
January 10, 2022
Contest : Funny Memories
Sponsor : Natasha L Scragg
the initial purport
this literary effort delivered atchew
to reed constitutes hazmat tocks sin
within White House blew
per, viz thee president be
getting a Hollywood love story
with "Stormy Williams" despite brew
haha murmur, now dapper Don in deep doo doo
thus, this garrulous married pro LIX prone papa flew
off (like a bat out of hell)
to his Macbook Pro laptop presenting myself
implicating Trump as po' faux guise Mister McGoo
affiliated, confused, and explained
being on par with Winnie the Pooh
especially stuck right tub bear arms in grr...
Rabbit's House, now he doth stew
nsync, nonetheless this path a logical
rhyme stir on the straight and true
composeing grist sill for ye to view
now, nar hating, hit ting
private links provide attention turned toward
two thousand twenty presidential election campaign
no Iron nee, anno putter opportunity,
how he diplomatically strived, and nearly scored
to boast asthma, overt braggart, stalwart
asper ideal consistency of cement poured
affiliation, aggregation, and attestation moored
prevails ma (Jack booted - magical) lord
rolling back to Timbuktu progressive liberal
Democratic initiatives star Apprentice
sans ("NO LIES") being linkedin, he almost ignored
with voluble chattering class hud hoard
hobnobbing (with the likes of Missus Muir's ghost,
who resort to Matthew Scott's turf brand),
reconstituted, recycled, and repurposed, gourd
nonetheless Trumping protocol necessitates me bing bored
predictable feigned "FAKE" non accord.
I hardly brew coffee alongside the metaphor of
English mornings blended with summer’s febrile breath.
But, on this occasion, I did....
It was a stifling moment on television.
The social media was abuzz with the hiss of
Integrated journalism. I hated this moment I failed to believe myself
Upon the altar of this recent toponym. BREXIT.
The name plinks with resounding voices, exerting that energy of
Political consciousness.
Lexicographers must hasten it into the dictionary
Before the return of Christ.
Must be cooked in the crucible of NOUN and
Heavily spiced in VERB.... And then, play host to nimieties.
It’s plainly a matter of exiting the circumference of a common, dancing market,
Where freedom of movement spins the web of twinkle-toed arachnids.
My coffee whiffed with the Brazilian hegemony
Upon the Indian scheme of teas and secular drams of rum,
And Iran’s love for green tea.
Summer’s mornings are difficult, I must remind you.
Waking from the posts of work and a bivouac
Stretches the eyelids beyond groggy eyelashes
With the haste of a speeding dawn.
But the TRUTH remained salient and voluble:
BRITAIN HAS VOTED TO LEAVE THE EU.
And it’s not a hypnagogic matter.
It has no business with amphigoric journalism.
It’s a British-fried piece of truth.
Are you kidding me?
I find it totally execrable when people say what they do not know,
Rather than ask what they do not know.
Sunday Times spread its pages to annex some truth.
So did The New York Times and Washington Post and the
Community of tabloids – all tried to
Squeeze out the sprinkles of the matter from collapsing firths.
There was no trace of Churchill in this BREXIT fiesta.
Even de Gaulle exuded remedies of a fractured Europe; he remembered
The WAYWARD WAR, whose frenetic winds blew us no good.
My coffee, black and gold, with the supple bubbles and yellow froths,
Welcomed the degree of weather forecasting.
Will it rain?
Will there be isolated thunderstorms across the EU?
Will BREXIT brew some heat? Slanting showers?
What Celsius does a degree reach before there’s a
Pandemonium?
DID YOU MEAN POUND-EMONIUM?
HAVEN’T YOU HEARD ABOUT THE CRASH OF THE POUND?