Talky Poems | Examples


Premium MemberA Plea to the Dry Guys

Moving like moonlight
I am the OG silver surfer
Fleshwalkers, Dry Guys, Land Livers,
Have been around for, 
What, 300,000 years?
Try 20 million years.

We eat stingrays.
Literally. For breakfast.
I have a 360 degree field of vision.
What's directly in front of me?
Don't ask.

Listen, Humanoids,
I'm delivering this plea
To your nearest post office.
Luckily I found a stamp
With my photo on it.

The plea is:
We are different from the other sharks
(Uhh: other sharks don't use post offices)
And are undeserved of their 
Ruthless, roguish, reputation.

Yes, we are younger 
Than our arrow-headed brethren
(Just 400 million years younger.)
But our brains are bigger.
Evidenced by our lack of interest 
In Walky-Talky interaction.

Check your stats.
Us Real Heads are considered
"Shy" among you. Right.
You wouldn't believe 
The number of karaoke 
Joints down here.

The moon now 
Has dipped down 
From the world of air
While the sun has made it's rise.

I'm starting to tan in the shallows
A tad too much for my taste.
Stay safe, sentient skin slickers!
I must be one my way now
At 20-25 miles per hour.
Categories: talky, animal,
Form: Ekphrasis

Waiting For the Don'T Care Package

Sink and rise
float away, swim back.
Mood swings its legs over a trapeze once more.
There's a pill for that and this
but what ails is so out of date
that it forgets its name.
Body awareness fowls its anchor.
Mind games checked by dead-lead checkers.
Go to the Casino
blow it all. win some...don't care.
Take the damn pill...now we all care.
Wine or beer? Jack D, keep the change,
Choices, who needs em?
Got a railway track to run on
wide-eyed and fished out of a gene pool
white knuckles beached on a dark moon.
Shallow is the breath of this whirring dreidel.
It's a Saturday night and out of talky time,
check the gun - unload it
oil it. Put it away for now.
Rise, subside, wave while you wipe-out,
swim back to where you were.
Categories: talky, poetry,
Form: Free verse


Arboreal Conversations

The woods have been gathering here
for long generations,
they have their own arboreal language,
a nocturnal patois
ground out by layers of ligneous skins.
The language is arcane,
it arrives from deep ancestral roots
incantations that turn slowly
into the kernels of long seeded words.

Deep into the night I listen,
then listen yet more
to the garrulous gossiping
of a creaky wooden bed
chatting to a talky timbered floor.
Categories: talky, poetry,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberLittle Lamb Soft As Snow Nursery Rhyme

Little lamb soft as snow where did your ewey go   
Into the barn to chew her cud, with you and Baby Zoe  
Chalky Talky chew don't mew, what a cutie look at you !   
Whitsie whitsie you ain't blue, your a shiny lamb of new           
Little lamb don't be late, don't forget to ruminate    
Easy peasy, teenie weenie,  super duper wait,   
Lamba lamba baa-baa-         rama- meh meh meh 
                  gee you got alot to say ! 
little lamb soft as snow, where did your ewey go,    
Into the barn to chew her cud with you and Baby Zoe.   

October 11, 2021
Categories: talky, appreciation, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Premium MemberNo Talky Before Coffee

No talky before coffee, it's the rule of the house
A well known fact, your day will go south
Hand signs may linger
But no middle finger
And no naughties allowed to come outta your mouth
Categories: talky, courage, drug,
Form: Limerick


Premium MemberSacred Forests

Sacred native forests
remain enraptured in souls
shadowing mysterious nature's silence.

Or when so deluged and brisk winded,
stormed to rage wild absence of restraint
overpowering more domesticated sounds of commodifying busyness,
diesel fueled 18-wheelers
carrying walky-talky caffeine flying drivers,
warning blares of commerce's trains
for those without bodies and brains
to move away from rumbling dust river of busy tracks.

Native forests
speak sacred wilderness power through all five senses.
I cannot see a sacred forest
singing I Did It My Way,
or My Way Or The HighWay
appropriate anthems in their less bird-songed place, yes,
but not sacred lusty psalms of organic notes
for and from native forests,
where sacred sights
sound naturally right
and smell absent of stinky busy fright,
and taste and feel recycling peace.
Categories: talky, beauty, health, peace, solitude,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberKaturday Wit Mee Kat

Katurday and Iz plazs wit mee talky kat,

Ohs, hooman, it go away, me ballz;
Don't be stoopit, you gits itz oks,
Iz not fit under that bigz chairees.
Hay, Iz not fat, Iz jst fluffy,
PLZ, I is sad, sad, sadz, look at meeze;
Gets me da ball oks and I plazs happi wit uz,
Iz lizd . . .  the ballz eez all minz . . . 

_______________________
March 13, 2016


Poetry/Spoonerisms/Katurday Wit Mee Kat
Copyright Protected, ID 16-767-810-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.
Categories: talky, cat,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberAnother Recording of If

In the entertainment field, I have a familiar face.
In movies and TV, I have been all over the place.

There are some memorable parts that I can call my own.
A doll named “Talky Tina” tripped me down the stairs in “The Twilight Zone”

I have been an actor for quite a few years back.
Most folks know me best as television’s “Kojak”.

Mr. David Gates has written a pretty song.
He and his group called “Bread” could do no wrong.

Their song went very high on Billboard’s charts.
The beautiful melody and lyrics won some hearts.

A lot of records have been sold by David Gates and Bread.
Perhaps the public would like to hear something else instead.

There’s another side of me most people don’t know.
I think it would be good to enter a recording studio.

I will do an oration with musicians and a chorus.
I have a feeling what I do will be fabulous.

If my recording gets some air time on the radio,
I believe my rendition will have far to go.

I got to perform my version on another television show.
My record will be going places; I know.
Categories: talky, history, music,
Form: Couplet

Flash of Green

I wish I were elsewhere.
What’s that flash of green?
Wow you caught my stare.
Isn’t she nineteen?

I’m a stud are you my mare?
Remember me… Eugene?
I love the way you flip your hair.
Have you ever seen a talky on the big screen?

Together we’d be the pair.
In my arm you’d be my queen.
Folks would stair both at church and at the fair.
Mouths would drop when we’d hit the scene.

By Robb A. Kopp

All Rights Reserved © MMX
Categories: talky, fantasy, girlfriend-boyfriend, hope, imagination
Form: Quatrain
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