In days old, oral poetry existed
(When most people, including
the authors of poems,and stories, lyricists,
artists,....couldn't read and write.)
as a part of oral literature
which had no titles,nor were the authors known.
Yet, these are from the heart
captivating the listeners.
It flaws like a river ,
with streams falling into it along the way.
It is circulated from mouth to mouth,
from generation to generation,
from the past to the present .
By the way, the contents
of these oral poems have been added to,
and some modifications might have done.
They wove oral poetry while gazing at lush nature
or remembering a loved one.
The lines were tender,
and delivered emotional feelings to the listeners.
Besides,the basis of oral poetry
may also be a love story,an event of patriotism.
or any other event the poet knew.
These oral poems and folk songs
influenced written poetry and literature.
Written epic poems are also based
on oral poetry,literature, and folk songs.
These oral traditions are of high standard
and have laid the foundation
of our rich literature,art, and culture.
I'm frozen here
And shall remain
While anaesthetic
Eases pain
My lips are fat
My tongue just lies
No words untrue
While spittle flies
A mouth aghast
While tools engage
And rubber fingers
Squeak outrage
Construction
Of the oral kind
So mastication
Is refined
A French walked into Nigeria with it,
Straight to Rose flower Hotel you can’t quit;
The Man’s Partner: Her Cleanest prostitute
At negotiating prices The Astute
And because he was dying for it ‘shrewd,’
Over her cruel price did not dare brood…
Hotel Material and Four Figures high,
Not caring it might White Guy leave dry:
And it’s not about thrusts, mere plain licks;
A flesh-close tongue mimicking wavy sticks
One might say a woman meaning to rob,
After some French had her sold The Job;
All to The Glory of Hardworking Satan
And bound to be bad to Prophet Nathan…
And for six hours White French at work
Just after Bottle forfeited its cork;
Doubly Satisfied Eve moans a “Don’t pay…”
“But be sure you’re here without fail next day!”
All The sagacity of The Devil
Out to make Straight Lines of Life bevel.
Bathsheba has wandering eyes
For brownies, cake, and apple pies
Her appetite
Is dynamite
The Harem call her, "Thunder Thighs"
before script
stories
before their histories
told in rhyme and verse
so early humans
can remember
as they wander
gathering plants
they eat
stories
seek
inspiration of land
of flora and fauna
of the song in the wind
they’ve come to know
of mating
before love
lives metered
shaping realities
of tribal minds
You are a flower for thirsty lips,
your dew drowns.
Flesh parts, opened by
the caress of teasing clouds.
This oral poetry
smears words into silence.
Breathe through this
muted opening,
lift the hunger of your hips.
Meet me in the dark red bloom,
covet the deeply drinking tongue,
close your unseeing eyes my love
I will catch you, clutch you tight
on the crest of your wave.
Words going around and around,
Like in a washing machine,
Only there in my head,
I pluck one out and put it aside,
There's more going around again,
Through the dark tunnel the words continue to spread,
The poem is almost done,
Then I see it .... Yes its done.
Reading it out aloud stuttering as i go,
I'm pleased with what I've done,
Writing words I dont stutter,
As my oral words have done,
I'm glad I wrote this poem,
I can write what I cant say,
And be understood in every way,
I've been given a voice.
We’re mostly big and contorted
From snacks and diets distorted
If you are still thin
You no longer fit in
Small portions our culture's aborted
Author's note: Just got back from the continent. People are still much leaner there than here. We need to stop filling ourselves and learn to be a little more satisfied with less. It is really OK. Now pass the fries please! BTW, the central market in Florence is a fantastic display of food love, yet the people there are thin. How can this be?
Oral Presentation of a Poem
Introduction
This poem to me God Himself imparted
Even if you happen to be heavy hearted
Should always stick around for a while
God will greet you with a great big smile.
Poem Itself
Have heard that only to certain degrees
But yet not ever can you perfectly please
Someone with personal poem you wrote;
All of the time it took and had to devote.
Are all pretty picky with their criticism
Knowing my poems have much witticism
Intention was detected as being quite clear
Bringing on great happiness and good cheer.
A few might leave you somewhat spellbound
With some words not seeming safe and sound
That perhaps in a poem were meant to be
A soliloquy which had designs of hostility.
Sadness, sin with a wanting to repent
May be among few poems I emailed and sent;
Are an example of how hard people tried
Then in end few tried and committed suicide.
Which one of them was it you would prefer
To be everlasting and continue to endure;
Poet Laureate soon was on one bright day
When I find out oral poetry will be best way.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
www.poetrysoup.com
www.story-telling-around-the-world.com
A law is oral,
when it's on moral.
Volodymyr Knyr
2014
To speak
my words
you need
your
ear
e'en
though
your
eyes
bring
this
verse
near
for
how
you
speak
and
when
you
pause
bring
euphony
to
my
cause
now
with
your lung
breathe
in
this is the
best place
to
begin
speech and debate team members
competed every week
new schools, new judges, input sought
national finals at Niagara University
eleven hundred contestants
vying for trophies worth their weight in gold
mix up the meter, don't stress the rhyme
select a "poem" that would be unique
then give it your own tweak
casting Longfellow and Whitman aside
I emulated Walter Brennan’s voice
reading “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss
in finals judging was stiff
but I gave them a laugh or two
nabbing a fourth place
first time Monmouth ever had a winner
riding home, we cheered and laughed
Old Lorax’s environmental message won favor
*Entry for Joe’s “Contest Contest”
True story
Separate Fate scratching Chance so that it may be secure.
Offerings Pile up, Circumstances of Dismantled monotony and softly licking dance.
Undiminished cheekbones flushed with Hope,
Slide up and Down,
Autoerotic, Hanging me, with vivid--tight nerves, Chaining throat to soul.
As an oddly subtle sound escapes my Lips…
One of those Godly Utterances that a conscious tongue Ignores.
Like An Awakened Coma, screamed, in Paralyzing yearn.
The air is Quiet, lonesome fingers tangled in heat.
An Eye Tilted, A Pierce of Angels, Coiled green and Thick.
Warm hands harvesting Ankles bruised by cold rain only hours before,
It is the Gentlest of comforts and For some reason, Struck hard and deep
into my mind.
“Forever is Easy”
I Say.
As softly, Fevered and Wanton,
He is stuns the Dust of this House into Noise
-thend-
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.