"laudatory" poems
Euphony * the quality of being pleasing to the ear, especially through a harmonious combination of words; making a phonetic change for ease of pronunciation
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock
Trickery, diddly, rot,
This Diddy's life poems rhymed not,
The boys and girls all booed,
Your poetic life thumbs-down *******
Trickery, diddly, rot
sipped his morning coffee.
thoughts about mortality and mean
saw what wanted not to be, the unseen,
trickery, diddly, rot,
brain refrain, relief not,
the **** clock ticking,
the mouse laughing,
at his euphonious nonsense
he wept for being found out,
the noises in the house
joined in
all mocking with accusations
***you phony, us,
you, phony us***
another work day ended as it begun,
or began to end
teach felt
herself
for felt
tipped pen reach,
inky dinky in the dockers it flowed,
now I am red-tro-graded,
bold letter, no fading,
F
for failing
to phony us
slipped his head under the water,
but the words auditory
and most un laudatory
feared not a drownery,
followed him down
under
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
The day began on a sunny note
For hours it shone
wet clothes wrinkled in heat
the clothes of the labouring man was wet.
Slowly,
the sun shine went bleak.
The winds arose in its greatness.
Sands and weightless filth rustled in laudatory.
The first
we heard
was a sound like a Tornado,
sweeping through the trees and dry land.
Doors and windows rattled in response.
Pregnant trees
forcefully delivered its fruits.
Road gossips fled.
The clouds thickened.
The lighting struck,
making free-hand sketches on the clouds.
The sounds made
felt like God was smashing bottles in heaven.
Children ran under their beds
and tightly blocked their ears.
This went on
for a while
till the wheather blew the whistle for 2nd half.
The clouds cried sweetly
and intensely.
The winds pacified the clouds.
Children came out in troops,
******** dressed
They delighted in the taste and feel of the rain against their skin
Whatever that wanted to remain dry stayed hidden.
Moments later
all was quiet
except for the children.
Soon it was nightfall,
bon fires were made.
The youths gathered to hear and tell stories.
The occassional flies made their way to these gatherings too.
Amazing night ahead
I thought.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
a book listener,
earbud'd, her literary tastes
sensately incessant,
to head-hear me speak,
iPad down, iPhone paused,
a 10~30 second ritual
while I grrrrin and bear it
a precious jeweled day,
sun providing a great moderation,
76 degrees Fahrenheit,
a steady breeze, 10~15 mph,
a human cooler
she blanket cosseted,
me relieved,
just a memory now,
a sworn oath to do a three mile morning
hike in the nature reserve
overcome with gratitude for that,
and a perfection blessing of a day,
in normal voice, I let the guard take a weekend day off,
pronouncing I love you vey much
at this very moment of poetry inscribing...
so she stops, unbuds, buttons pushed,
and says what dud, duh,
what was it that you said?
nothing unimportant, says me
(why spoil her twice, thinking)
No I insist!
so I repeat my grace laudatory
and she says, I
just wanted to hear it
twice....
and i wonder what else she hears
when I am being disregarded....
I guess this,
a love poem
of sorts,
though confused,
cause I been used,
well and proper
and quite like it,
I think....a little devilry
a spice to a relationship repast,
don't you worry,
I'll get her back
but where, when, how...
Mmmmmm....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
Slavishly touting laudatory
Remarks that
Run counter to his belief
Could not let a journalist
A moment's relief!
"The incumbent
Has flickered
Darkness piercing light
Now as things are bright
None stop
We have to condemn the past
To catapult the present
On the infallible mast!"
Conveying messages
Without beef,
Also forced to turn
Eyes, to reality, deaf,
He is smote by
Excruciating grief
Freedom of expression
Turned brief!
To spare himself
A stomach pang
He has to allow
Political thugs,
In the guise of
Media bosses
That form a
Government's favour
Ingratiating gang,
His mouth to gag!
Intimidated by them
Into self censorship
The facility of his pen
He could not keep!
Ironically,
A mainstream press,
With a toothless face,
Rather conveys
An autocrat or,
To be precise,
A clinically dead
Government in place!//
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
My Heart is Drenched in Why’s
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
climb to my listening post,
poet-on-the-roof, willing every step,
climb way up to the top of the stairs,
entrance marked POETRY, courtesy
of the bldg. super, an olden friend,
a concerned citizen, humorist, human,
somedays nurse to his corona haloed tenants.
the view of the ****** not laudatory, visible in a 360 degree perspective is of city grunched, scrunched, covered in
in silent spoke poems, overused views, words that don’t change
a thing, for my heart sees only dimly, being that my disheartened
vision is drenched, diminished, disabled by and in why’s.
ask seer~super what rhymes with why, smiling, an instantaneous poetry helper, having created, an officiel expert, as in everything, reply’s “why, why most famously rhymes with, why, everyone knows is try!”
so I try, three times, try, try, try again to puzzle
why, my heart is drenched in magenta,
who has willed this, not I, my distilled voice,
wants, does roof shout, but try as I might,
the reverb of unanswered is the slap of more
drenching, quiet silencing, and the weightiness
of too many weightless words returned stamped
“no forwarding address, and we know not why.”
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 5:25 PM UTC
what you mean by your:
metaphors; you make my heart beat louder than the footsteps of thousands of soldiers marching methodically.
tone; audacious, yet wary, laudatory, and adoring.
allusion; i know this girl who makes my heart race faster than Jesse Owens and she looks an awful lot like you.
repetition; i love you, i'm in love with you, i love your pulse, i love, love, love me.
hyperbole; i'd ****** everyone on earth just to get a taste of your lips.
just tell me what you mean.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
The new 950-ton bridge would beat
down time dashing to classes cheat
ting vulnerability asper thick traffic
putting life at risk,
thus laudatory alternative
intending to offer Sweetwater
to last a lifetime would make fleet
(installed at Florida International University,
with eager pedestrians ready to greet
crossing grand opening,
where local dignitaries didst meet
viz Miami-Dade County
Saturday (March eleventh 2018)
witnessing ghastly collapsed
Thursday (March fifteenth 2018)
afternoon onto Southwest Eighth Street.
An unknown number
of fatalities surmised,
while several others
were hospitalized.
Prior to groundbreaking
with placement guised
of the attendant pomp
and circumstances exercised
setting cornerstone,
the projected
general estimation apprised
sans building costs totaled $14.2 million
and funded as part of a $19.4 million grant
from the US Department of Transportation.
The fact sheet boasted the sheer intensity
comparable to withstand strength of a
category 5 hurricane, and supposed to last
for more than 100 years.
Within the blink of an eye, no ifs ands,
nor abutments squared with ratiocination
earning civil engineers bragging rights,
which boastful, delightful, fanciful stead
fastness touted thwarting titanic tenable
taxing shock waves.
Now only a scattered pile (formerly comp
rising beams footings, and piers) of rein
forced concrete capped with a bent ele
ment defying hallelujahs, karaoke kudos,
and bobble headed nods,
now impish jinns keep leering, mocking,
and naysaying to fading echoing reverberations
leveled at the laughingstock of an architectural
(duff) feat. Further scrutiny will attempt to cap
chore structural weaknesses. Amidst snapped,
crackled, and popped strewn cables entwined girders
(whose premature destruction) will also warrant
any arresting tell tale signs of unusual stress.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
IN DREAM I LAY .
I just wish to heaven to grant me one dream .
even though all about me is but lean .
i want to be with you when all thing past away .
dream for you as much as my heart sway .
tangled in disaster but hobbled with one harkening .
live your dream even my procession seems no meaning .
dream of kings upon heaven of glorious story .
but i have no courage , i have no power ,hope you be laudatory.
dreams ,so many swept and washed over my face with a mark.
the bloom and gloom , and all but with you i wish one remark.
i hope you be the witness of my bleeding heart that will see sun ,
through your smile .
maybe you cant be mine ,grandeur aloft when my throne is vile
but if you once dreamed of love , im beggar fighting against the
the door of nightmare .
it means nothing when i pain , when i bleed but all bad i mar .
im beggar at your door but for Sapphira or gold i refrain .
only , with the dream of your heart i do sustain.
i just wish to be in your arms when all thing past in dream .
slumber with you though we are hasten with disaster and lame
even if your tongue is the most venomous kiss .
let me sip it till and lay in forever dream abyss .
i know kings , servants , fame , savants , beggars thither reside.
but i fain be there , cause in love i perish and in its dream i ride .
oh what a dream to feel love with you .
and praise to lay in forever dream in your arms to see anew .
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
Sentimental,
As I look back.
The love my parents showed me,
The love I showed my nieces.
And here I am with
A chance to be a role model as an uncle,
A chance to make my parents proud,
A chance for their approval.
Decimated,
As I look forward.
The things I want to do,
The people I want to love.
And here I am with
A chance to change,
What the past eighteen years meant.
A chance to reinvent myself,
A chance to be myself.
And so here I find myself,
Just another book on the shelf.
Should I stay in the same category,
So my parents will be laudatory?
Or do I think of my memento mori,
And write my own story.
Guilty,
As I think of what I could do,
To my parents,
My nieces,
To the ones that I once loved.
So here I am,
Decimated yet sentimental,
As I sit here looking,
At the scars on my arm,
And that thing I hold in my hand.
A chance for their approval,
Or a chance for myself,
Or a chance to end it all,
A chance to pull the trigger.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
be hovering above
your body after death, a
floating purgatory
which does not desist
when they cover you with dirt, or
make quick cremains of you
you get to hear what others
say when you're gone, first scripted
testimonials, of your laudatory life
later, when the food is being crammed
in overloaded fridges, and the ties and tongues
are loosened, other words emerge:
"he was never good to his wife; you know
he pulled the plug on his father, but wouldn't
let them do the same with him"
"he didn't seem to pass peacefully, all
that labored breathing -- perhaps he was
missing his boy he hadn't seen in years"
"maybe he felt he didn't earn his way
to salvation, or even an end to suffering
of this life of flesh and bone"
and you know not if this is heaven or hell
this place you are doomed to dwell, though you
wish you could now be deaf to these words
an endless biography composed by
all your regrets and transgressions, a book
of your life you would choose to rewrite
but no one, you lament, has that privilege...
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
...Before Sleep I saw you.....
I saw her but she didn't see me.
I saw the ivory cheeks, the jet jewel, the coal black hair.
I saw the charisma, crystal clear
under a crescent moon.
I saw her up-stretched arms embrace the sky.
I saw her violet aura, her secret luminescence
leave an echo of lustre on the laudatory leaves.
In the deep night I saw a rainbow
rise from her regal eyes.
I saw her kneel in communion with stars.
I knew love as never before.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC