Reciting Poems - Poems about Reciting

You take my silence as coldness, as indifference even— but if you listen very closely I am reciting to my universes the sheer love I have for you in every line and every word....

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Recorded are words to be repeated Mark Twain once said: History doesn’t repeat itself, it rhymes. Bouncing through time is our history, that only follows through memories, We create our own history. Repeating not exactly those memories, to do over time after time, is repeating a rhyme twice, over time. I once was showed how, I then did it twice Repeating history...

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The Poet's Condition by Michael R. Burch (for my mother, Christine Ena Burch) The poet's condition (bother tradition) is whining contrition. Supposedly sage, his editor knows his brain's in his toes though he would suppose to soon be the rage. His readers are sure his work's premature or merely manure, insipidly trite. His mother alone will answer the phone (perhaps with a moan) to hear him recite. Alternate Title: "Poetry Slam: The Hangup" Keywords/Tags: poet,...

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reciting lessons during carol burnett show queen of improv posted on June 22, 2018...

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Someone reciting a rhyme Rhyme about moon of sky And a viewer from the earth Every night he view moon Story of that silent viewer And his unidentified search Its feel as like he do love with moon But moon is too far in sky He sometime view moon in water But while he try to touch Image of moon go hide What you can say...

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I did cross the rivers, many times the rivers dance gracefully, and I am watching eagerly, the romantic garden of birds then, they fly. It’s a new year today, a first day of the year I sat to look at the sky. then, I fly. I can only see the dark that’s when there is a light as I wanted to keep writing, my left hand...

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I did cross the rivers, many times the rivers dance gracefully, and I am watching eagerly, the romantic garden of birds then, they fly. It’s a new year today, a first day of the year I sat to look at the sky. then, I fly. I can only see the dark that’s when there is a light as I wanted to keep writing, my left...

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He spits verses out of his mouth like a spider weaves a web between twigs in the early morning sunlight No one cares his verses but he continues to spit them out like a spider clutches its web with his hind claw Whether there’s a audience or not, he has to recite it because only the verses escape from his lips is the...

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