Short Ventriloquist Poems
Short Ventriloquist Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ventriloquist by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ventriloquist by length and keyword.
a ventriloquist
his voice dangling in midair
waiting for tipoff
Ventriloquist Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
20th June, 2018
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Hey, ventriloquist -
try putting words in my mouth...
these lips will not move
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06/21/2018
A ventriloquist there was named Monique
Who could make all of her body parts speak
Her right hand did British
Her left handled Yiddish
Down below she liked French and took Greek
********
glue coloured gottles
glue flies glow flies gurning gright
stage manager... duck
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06/16/18
Ventriloquist Poetry Contest - Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
the person I want to be
is certainly not to become ~ some idealistic wannabe
but definitely one ~ that pursues a legitimate fantasy
hinted a ventriloquist to his puppet ~ lost in soliloquy
I'm a poet and soliloquist,
both dummy and ventriloquist.
I wonder if I even exist,
or how I ever could.
She left me floating on a river.
I have no heart to forgive her.
I shed no tears, just a sliver.
I'm a poet made of wood.
I prefer the dentists ~ they interpret silence through big open mouths
mimed the ventriloquist during a prostate exam ~ curled up in doubts
imagining his puppets snickering ~ from the gloves inside their snouts
at last the doctor spoke ~ this one feels mostly shaggy or thereabouts
You're their cup of tea, their bread and butter
A real cash cow, drink straight from your udder
If you want laws passed,be a dentist
They'd rather be your ventriloquist
Bickering over minimum wages
Taking their cues from a criminal's pages
You can't pass go and you can not trespass
Unless you are a member of Congress
Borborgymus, Borborgymi,
Eructate so delightfully!
I ruminate, throat tickles late,
And choking, I gesticulate.
I just ate but I don’t gestate.
Who throws the voice? Seems I’m the dummy.
Ventriloquist and talking tummy.
Borborgymi, Borborgymus
A lovely word, why all the fuss?
H/T to Milt’s Mysterious Rumbling Noises
In lieu of tempestuous behavior
Please read the words I write
A colloquium of emotions
Oh, what an equivocal sight
I'm a kleptomaniac of pain
Feeding off the reaction
A ventriloquist of theft
So idiosyncratic
And in this conglomeration
Of acculturation by design
I live life by a pseudoynm
Pretending that it's mine
Listen to poem:
Watch its lips, did they move,
when 'AI' my dummy doll spoke
the words of a billion
ventriloquist puppeteer peers?
Watch the dummy's eyes,
if they wildly rolled from side to side
AI is tripping onto the misspoken,
trying to be original, creative,
pulling its own strings
making things up, as it goes off script, numb, dumb,
misspeaking, shamming, faking it,
hallucinating on dumbness.
i'm the dummy
she's the ventriloquist
she's the one
that moves my lips
my words
are defined
by her
i'm a vessel for
her to fill
to overflowing
i keep babbling
even when she's
drinking
wine
though my words
slur to slow
showing
sign of
dribble
from my mouth
i was never
one to hold
my liquor
but she
holds me
up and keeps
me propped
so i can
slosh my
drunken thoughts
Form:
In life, we are the puppeteers
till the promise of death unfolds
we journey the story untold
for the spectators’ eyes and ears
The job is to entertain and stir
the audience till time goes old
in life we are the puppeteers
till the promise of death unfolds
The ventriloquist, we yet to meet
the foolish, the joker, the voice, the bold
yet still synchronized with the man who holds
the string till the dawning is near
in life, we are the puppeteers
I dreamed gigantic black oily night crawlers -- three and six feet long -- were squeezing upward through the floorboards of our house.
Last night I dreamed ventriloquist dummies could run for Congress.
I dreamed I sat on the edge of the bed and folded myself like a tesseract.
I dreamed I had dinner with Elijah. It was a blissful dream, even though all we had was dried fish.
I dreamed I was deliriously happy and filled with light. I woke up in the dark.
The Dummy
Lying in a corner
With a smirk on his face
Eyes wide, not yet moving
Maché thoughts circulate.
Reality assured,
He was ready to go,
Dependency resting
On a hand from below.
His own paralysed hands
In his parodied suit
Did not have the means
To greet or salute.
From whence the desire,
The will and intention?
How to be free from
Ventriloquist intervention?
The God of the dummy
Is beyond belief,
His place in the corner
A God-given peace
The bells are ringing in deference to the songbirds.
Cardinals, robins, and one lone blue jay, I always feel sorry for.
Twittering and tweeting, serenading me, the blue jay hanging back a bit.
Chirr. chirr. chirree. chirr. chirr. chirree. chirree.
One of the more arrogant robins is throwing her voice like a ventriloquist.
I feel loved, revered, honored, included, admired, and amused.
Doo. Doo. Doo. Doo. Doo. Doo. Doo. Doo. The symphony keeps going,
Impressing me greatly.
within my mind like stringless mimes
reside the voices of discontent
discussing in their troubled tones
the conundrum of implied intent
“I’ll say this”, and “he’ll say that”
“she’ll do thus”, and “I’ll do so”
no invites to cerebral tea
for conversations of “me with me”
for all the puppets in my head
dance to tunes I choose to play
none have the voice to boldly say
“move on, you dwell in yesterday”
©6/18/2018
for Ventriloquist Poetry Contest/Anthony Slausen
Putting up the white flag,
laying down my gun
Turning my back on fantasy,
projects left undone
Unlike other enemies,
she’s neither front nor back
But lives where only she can go,
where color turns to black
Her voice becomes a mimic,
ventriloquist of my soul
As words come uninvited,
their letters rhyming whole
Resistance now is futile,
my nights pass sleep deprived
Mercy vacant, her voice my own
—all victory denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)