Short Fluency Poems
Short Fluency Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Fluency by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Fluency by length and keyword.
Basque-born Maurice Ravel
a musique-impressionist truth-to-tell
Influenced by Claude Debussey
versatile & with fluency
our hearts are in synch
spiritually beating
a physical rhyme
tempo increases
fluency arises from
movement so sublime
our quiet rhythm
a lovely clockwork
without space and time
MOMENT OF A LIFETIME
That moment
when we ran out of words,
we kept silent and still
for we both understood
the eye-language; there was
the fluency of silence.
We lived in that moment
that is more than a lifetime.
A crisp white shirt.
Designed to fit with fluency.
A language sized for lust.
To ease my vast dependancy.
Every touch is moisten.
The fingers wet the appetite.
The buttons widen with choice.
Her sent stains the embroidery.
Form:
Once upon a time,
There was a lady,
Having every candy,
Some sour but tasty,
Some sweet but nasty,
Everytime I feel thirsty,
I went for a pastry,
That's how every poetry,
Will look like a messy pantry,
Having rhyme but not fluency.
By:EK ~Eman Afridhi
10/04/2021
Timetable truency
Floods mind fluency
13th August 2020
For Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Ziket Contest
(first line maximum eight syllables,
second line maximum five)
Bless me
with the fluency of fury
and the articulate voice of anger.
Spare me though,
of its affliction of aggression.
Let my pen paint
the reflection of my thoughts
like a mirror.
Thus my lines become
clones of my imaginations.
Let creativity be
the stubborn shadow
of my verses
and let not inspiration
fly out of my window.
It's been a while.
Creativity grounded.
Dry, arid, sun-scorched,
basking in blistering heat
and too lazy to think.
It's been a while.
Vocabulary one vociferous
now muted, silent, frozen
in salacious space,
and too lazy to write.
It's been a while.
What have I been thinking?
Where do the words go?
The cogs of composition
lack fluency, fluidity -
It's been a while
- but I'm back -
The visions of the dreamers
Our truest aspiration
To paint devotion’s eyes
And show no love is higher
Sketching away with words
Charcoal a rhyme of adoration
For these are our genesis inspired
The greater truth of ourselves
Painting passion of rending desires
Penciling sweet moment whispers
We poets bare our daring fragility
For a taste of love untainted
The poets’ insight is not in our fluency
But in the eyes of our lovers…
the earth speaks
in a syntax of wind,
in the slow-moving vowels
of shadow across stone;
its grammar lives
in the way grasses lean,
in how light punctuates
the ridge at dawn,
each pause a lesson,
each shift a clause
in the long, unwritten text
of being alive;
and when we listen,
truly listen~
we feel meaning gather
like seeds in the palm,
a quiet fluency
in the language
we were born knowing
but forgot how to read.