Short Verbatim Poems
Short Verbatim Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Verbatim by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Verbatim by length and keyword.
Fraudulent scholars
Practicing love verbatim
Read from their grimoires
Hence they'll never replicate
Magic coming from the heart
There’s a great luxury
in telling the truth
A richness verbatim
no lies to refute
A strength of conviction
beyond substance and style
Through the ages adopted
—veracity’s child
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)
Truth is not an absolute
but an attitude of commitment
Throwing its blanket decidedly
over questioning and doubt
Paying deference to the moment
while blessing its intention
Choices made and choices bade
—verbatim roundabout
(Dreamsleep: July, 2023)
South Pacific, Jiminy Cricket,
This world
I tried to gain access,
I tried to write a book,
That would capture
All my happiness,
Full of romance,
Life that was enhanced
By beauty and love,
Carousel and Disneyland,
Babycham deers
And romantic lands,
These patterns I wove.
(Reproduced verbatim from a ditty written aged ca. 19.)
Is your pathway to Heaven now structured,
with words that your verse seeks to pray
Is your stairway straight up or diverted,
remittance and debts to repay
Is your meaning construed or verbatim,
intention set free of this world
Is your love what was given or taken
—your heart ill at ease or unfurled
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Wild genesis on the spot,
not revised, not memorised,
a stop gap in a script,
verbatim, improvised.
Yet told so much of human nature,
addiction to atrocity,
the logic of the terrorist psyche,
gain from pain and atrocity.
On a ferris wheel, each steely word
a rhetorical, keen, serrated knife,
a perfect coalition of madness and sanity
that crystallised his life.
Is your pathway to heaven now structured
with those words that your verse seeks to pray
Is your stairway straight up or diverted,
with remittance and debts to repay
Is your meaning construed or verbatim,
with intention set free of this world
Is your love what was given or taken,
—with your heart now at ease and unfurled
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
The paradox
Of my lost socks
Does pierce my heart
And vex my soul.
For it does expose
All my toes,
Which would be
A great calamity.
Though much annoyed,
From the void
Come dulcet murmurs
And tacit rumors
Of missing razors,
Attracting neighbors
with ultimatums
bespoke verbatim,
Return to me,
Thou wretched beasts!
And where the hell be
All my briefs?
The heat of your verbatim lashes at my hide
Red heat surfaces with the morning light
Serenades of moans and breathless catcalls
Inhuman indecent oblivious to the voyeurs
Hidden by drapes and nostalgia
Morning shower washes the scent away
But the sheets remain for the nights rebel
Stage two recall we shall join again
Never ending taste dripping from my lips
Melted within your arms entangled in your loins.
A poem, like death-was
unpredictable. You wait for it,
it does not come.
Then you drag a corpse
on stones to find its home
which never materializes.
You give me a hurt. I
become mute. Very shy
to accept the verbatim.
How different we are
in alikeness. I touch you in twilight
of life to become one.
And from daily life
I gather the pain, to print
the version of tomorrow.
Satish Verma
Moving diligence to wandering's expone,
verbatim unresolved is open, prone.
Thought's avenue's confine digests my own,
the self curtailed does feel itself alone.
While standing still subjects the mind's condone,
some movement emphasizes beings hone.
Decisions obstacles are thereby somehow known,
and I am facing courage, thereby shown!
A lifting consequence removes the pensive drone -
and I face trials unswervingly. . . with control!
Soul at ease to bruise the mind
eggplant purple, verbatim green
Resting insults once alive
in riddles, screaming to be seen
On divans out on the porch
wasting feather's air
to be cooled on battered thoughts
we never knew were there
Sipping punch out in the sun
wrestling on the ground
with some bold "what might have been"
that always hangs around
It seems that when the soul's at ease
we should bolster strength
for in this rest an active brain
will lend debate at length...