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emilia-leonetti
Poems2
Words205
The lecturer stands, waving her hands Wildly gesticulating Squawking and screeching and and humming and preaching Whilst our minds fix on matriculating "Please, please I beg of you Responsible for shaping heads Tell your children this is true - Use any verb other than 'said'!" She demonstrates the dialogue tags That we sages can impart "Replied", "enquired", "sighed", "ragged" "Norted", "blorted", "ogled", "blarted" - But if a child uses all these What kind of field will they have built? Cohesive, engaging, with wonderful staging Or splotted and sploged like a patchwork quilt? For you see - All the words inside your head The ones who unwittingly cover for "said" Are the drink-addled maidens you see in the street Holding their heels and walking in bare feet Flipping their hairs and waving their phones Cackling and snickering in shrilliing, thrilling tones As their best friends, the adverbs, grab them by their hair Determined to prevent an emetic scare To-ing and fro-ing, and never quite knowing Where exactly it is they are going All they know is they eschew intervention By boldly pleading for more and more attention But "said" is a lady of quiet grace Wearing long tresses, muted dresses and a fair face And sits beside each word with a natural restraint Holding up quotations without complaint Till it blends through the text like smooth, creamy paint And fades till it becomes so, so faint That it only feels natural to focus instead On the intentions of the characters inside of your head It's a word that fills most teachers with dread But I earnestly plead to befriend the word "said" For she's a hard-working lady with quiet conviction - Does that help with your language affliction?
0
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
Make Friends With "Said"!
The lecturer stands, waving her hands Wildly gesticulating Squawking and screeching and and humming and preaching Whilst our minds fix on matriculating "Please, please I beg of you Responsible for shaping heads Tell your children this is true - Use any verb other than 'said'!" She demonstrates the dialogue tags That we sages can impart "Replied", "enquired", "sighed", "ragged" "Norted", "blorted", "ogled", "blarted" - But if a child uses all these What kind of field will they have built? Cohesive, engaging, with wonderful staging Or splotted and sploged like a patchwork quilt? For you see - All the words inside your head The ones who unwittingly cover for "said" Are the drink-addled maidens you see in the street Holding their heels and walking in bare feet Flipping their hairs and waving their phones Cackling and snickering in shrilliing, thrilling tones As their best friends, the adverbs, grab them by their hair Determined to prevent an emetic scare To-ing and fro-ing, and never quite knowing Where exactly it is they are going All they know is they eschew intervention By boldly pleading for more and more attention But "said" is a lady of quiet grace Wearing long tresses, muted dresses and a fair face And sits beside each word with a natural restraint Holding up quotations without complaint Till it blends through the text like smooth, creamy paint And fades till it becomes so, so faint That it only feels natural to focus instead On the intentions of the characters inside of your head It's a word that fills most teachers with dread But I earnestly plead to befriend the word "said" For she's a hard-working lady with quiet conviction - Does that help with your language affliction?
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41
I flounce across the midnight way Not one to return anyone's gaze As I cut through the winter haze And stumble through the open gate That leads into an open hall Where people laugh Screech Squawk Cackle As pools of yellow hit the walls I sidle into a cushioned bench Nobody dares to turn their head So I fixate on a drink coaster instead Then order cider from the serving ***** The jungle animals make noises beside me Screech! Squawk! Roar! Hiss! My chest tightens and nerves snap inside me I sidle out of the cushioned bench Nobody dares to turn their head No words of farewell or good fortune were said As I escape the malt-y, acidic stench Down, hill, down dale, up street, as I pale My addled head throws me to and fro Through the winter haze I go Till I'm home again And realise That once again I have failed.
0
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
The Outgoing Ones Always Finish First
I flounce across the midnight way Not one to return anyone's gaze As I cut through the winter haze And stumble through the open gate That leads into an open hall Where people laugh Screech Squawk Cackle As pools of yellow hit the walls I sidle into a cushioned bench Nobody dares to turn their head So I fixate on a drink coaster instead Then order cider from the serving ***** The jungle animals make noises beside me Screech! Squawk! Roar! Hiss! My chest tightens and nerves snap inside me I sidle out of the cushioned bench Nobody dares to turn their head No words of farewell or good fortune were said As I escape the malt-y, acidic stench Down, hill, down dale, up street, as I pale My addled head throws me to and fro Through the winter haze I go Till I'm home again And realise That once again I have failed.
Continue reading...
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