"lexical" poems
Hi, below I copy a humorous hiabun, which I shared as an exercise to mentor enquiring and inspired poets to learn, so they might adopt and try different techniques and then give critique together with awesome comments... Yes, I used the words *** ****** and **** for context the rest was left to an individual imagination as in good poetry!
It included reflective commentary encompasses innocent classification terminology used in the critique, reading, examining, appreciating, understanding and writing of poetry for example: POETIC DEVICES (enjambement, duality, keriji, images, collocation, semantic, oxymoron, repetition, listing etc.), STORY (personification, characterisation, subject, context, voice etc.), IMAGERY (synaesthesia), STRUCTURE ( lineation, breaks, syntactic etc.), SOUNDS (syllables, rhyme, alliteration, pace, musicality, phrasing, beat, assonance, onomatopoeia, mouthed rhythms, patterned) and WORDS (preposition, determiner, verbs, adverbs, lexical, nouns, adjectives) used by poets, critics and academics...
And here it is :
**** tongue-in-cheek haibun - a reflective commentary on writing a popular tanka
Eye lashes flicker
a shared urgent interest
parting - dancing smile
My first inspiration was *** passionate life squeezing screaming *** the thumping wall musicality of *** exhaustingly inventive sweaty and wet.
I wanted to make it a senryu but for duality the female characterisation demanded two more lines each extending to seven syllables.
Arousing images captured her moaning splashing loneliness in unusual collocation.
I was first excited by the placement of a hovering extended enjambement to give life to my final line, whilst also considering the satisfaction in using noisy mouthed rhythms.
I believe I easily hid the wet aroused context with a watery semantic field, that suggested she would choke and drown.
So in my last line I had ‘pleasures’ as a cutting keriji to make clear the dominating ****** context, having previously used a preposition and determiner to maintain duality!
Exhausted shivers
in windowed naked currents
unfolding sinking
then surfing vital wavelets
drowning screams - pleasures wet bite
**
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
n. A homesickness for somewhere you cannot return to, the nostalgia and grief for the lost places of your past, places that never were.
insatiability makes its burrow
in my gall bladder,
wringing bile from the *****
craving toxins to purge.
i thirst for sweet lexical gaps,
holes in patterns,
dots that don't make shapes
but still gladly connect
komorebi
n. The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees
loveliest in the distinction
it is only komorebi
once filtered, green soul
bleeding through
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
*
~for Bill T. Jones~
two poets, laureates both,
on the nature of hunger, they discourse,
in temple, where sacrificing is to living arts
I was there, hungry in every aspect,
seeking wisdom of the hungering nature of human.
examine the word, hunger,
hardly a rolling off the tongue mellifluous.
you growl it from the gut, in gowned resplendent ugliness,
go ahead, try it, it’s coarse and powerful insistent.
awoken empty but for the hunger, hungover from
dancing words and imagery not mine, now mine,
maddeningly demanding my dutiful attentions,
as if hunger was the master, me, obedient pupil.
the clean white slate the IPad re-presents repeatedly,
insulted that I have yet to crayon color it with the coherence
of hunger-exhaled words, dismissive that I am but an also-ran,
my village of lexical too unsophisticated,
the page addressed yet unplanned,
Apple white
is the color of the
starving artist.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:44 PM UTC
procuring lexical polymorphism
synthesizing atypical signifier
playing blue album
awaiting tomorrow's celebrations
adding complex plugins
altering element content
watching office mascot
wheeling hue-named albums
undulating forest growth
pricing those yankees
finding layman's chaos
enjoying another victory
reviewing markup concepts
ditching error messages
enjoying relative obscurity
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
lamenting out loud
incoming funk lords
remembering ambient illhueminati
using wrong account
applying lexical snobbery
"using arcane diction
during bamboo surplus"
sinning and redeeming
enjoying manufactured existence
struggling but whatever
transfigurating xenocryptic renderings
scheming paroxystic shipwrecks
dispensing xylophonic wainscotting
revolving number plates
disheartening star charts
upgrading defenestrated system
observing new alphabet
amplifying celestial explosions
trippifying schema migrations
deregulating various economies
befriending code snippets
writing excess minutiae
effulging caffeine consumption
rebuilding grandiose protectorate
uniting our caliphates
collecting projected change
kettling ostalgie hues
collapsing second-world references
traumatizing unrequited follow
making baseball analogies
surveiling little sheep
awaiting various answers
deleting defaced tweet
exciting times ahead
downloading panda consciousness
capitulating rising stellation
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
lunar luminance lights his lucent lordly lair.
leaden legs languish lazily as he lay, laconic--
lexical loquaciousness long lost.
his latent lupine lust lignifies and lengthens,
longing lonesomely for his lovely limber lioness.
with lips of luxurious labial liquer,
and licks lapping like lashing lingual lightning,
liquifying his lavish lover, luscious lyrical lubrication.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal mist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
I’m a verbal chameleon, feeding on and leading onto what comes next.
I’m a lexical shape-shifter, made swifter by the twitter of your vibes,
Your guise,
You guys.
My political agenda is neither right nor left behind.
I’m blind to colour but not colour blind,
I’m not pigeon holed, fully sold or moulded on someone else’s dream.
I’m simply,
Free.
From them,
From you,
From me.
So…
When now becomes nowhere without here and now.
And “unite as one” is paraphrased as a power phrase.
Let’s unite as individuals on separate viduals to overthrow ourselves.
Don’t follow crowns, clowns or crowds.
Don’t follow punishments, covenants or Governments.
Don’t follow Religion.
Don’t follow Science.
And especially,
Don’t follow me
Because I’m a lyrical paradox, toxic and hypnotic to even my own thoughts.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC
Every true crime documentary resides in me.
Binge used to be tied to drinking. The language, I think,
is evolving, and I walk the black part of town at
night on a double dare from a lady poet whose
lexical purview lies somewhere between her
**** and the moon. I'm a beacon of fairness,
fair trade coffee stains my teeth, my lenin pants
imported from Bali are ethically made, and I speak
in a respectable and thoughtful half whisper
like the women of the QVC.
I return to the loft free of gunshot wounds
and love my lady poet thin and love my lady poet
tall and she says confusion is the only sustainable
state of being and I say I can agree with that and
she says she's been thinking about transitioning
and I say into more responsibility at work? and she
says haha no. Into a man.
And three weeks later I watch her read a poem
entitled "Traffic My **** Transgender *** to Heaven,"
she goes home with one, two, three Sylvia Plath lookalikes,
and I get swabbed at the doctors and I get prescribed
a moderate dose of Effexor and I speak in high school
Spanish to my office crush — she's from Venezuela, I think.
Power. Control. Stockings, I tell her, I have a thing for stockings
and pink cotton socks. One more drink and I'll hit my
groove. Chill. Power. Control. Put on that soul song I like.
Didn't I do it, baby?
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Immaculate Breakfast
I should congratulate myself on choosing the Raisin stuffed and Lemon Drizzle Scones
Who else would?
Spill the milk gently into granola and berry cereal
And an Immaculate breakfast is laid out in front of me
Like a pastoral English farm valley disturbed by thunder in a Turner painting
Which makes you consider how the sunset depicted must have occurred on a Sunday and
you can almost hear the firebrand puritanical country church sermon that was lanced unto the congregation that morning.
But the sun's high and full of itself here-urban nature's reliable humblebrag.
Underwhelming Work Routine
The reason I doublebag tea -most apparent in its amber hue before the whisker of a milkdrop eases the cannonroll
Is that I need to be aware
Of my shortcomings-personal, financial, strategical, spinal, ****** lexical
While typing out this or the next sentence on a screen that could really do with some Mr Clean
-A line that sounded like it made far more sense in my head
A head that is probably in need of a good dose of Ms Benzedrine
A dilemma which lays the foundations of an oft shoddy, disingenuous, misappropriated, underwhelming work routine.
Oh, the work gets completed
just with far more of an effort and
far less of the breezy confidant
self-satisfaction than I originally intended.
And the tea needs to keep me awake
or else I would daydream restlessly, evoking
rats in cages who make political decisions and far away destinations where
I can at last make my life
completely redundant, or, whisper it, a success.
But that's the great kicker of working life, isn't it?
You make a meal out of the easy stuff
And wish the good bits didn't capture people's attention.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
Fringed by putrescent dusk
Fingernails dig beneath graveyard wounds
Fostered by lexical warfare
Within the harrowing fiascos of tomorrow
Nothing but bated memories
Braided by skin, coffee, and cigarettes
Branded by concrete whispers
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:48 PM UTC
**A year perhaps no more
when the stories of my mind
came pouring skipping forth
lexical, poetical with rind
haiku like, lucid and sore
Episodes of haibun
comic stripped whole
a playwright and haikuist
with a mountain biker's soul
loving that **** violinist
I can't rhyme, so
how did this all happen?**
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 12:11 AM UTC
If the tiles of talking
are replaced by something else,
say, lexical snowflakes,
where will our linear minds be?
It's not that we don't understand
weird, multifoliate simultaneities
in dreams, in anguish,
or in ecstasy. It's just
the rest of the dumb time
we stand there and pull
from our mouths a usual
piece of numb string.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
it is hard to translate emotions
into words and be wholly honest
our humours swirl ambivalently,
like vagabond alphabets which
have not found their words
as if insufficient time has
lapsed after the meteoric
impact of feeling, for the dust
to settle and for the words to cool
from the heat of the present tense
and all we can cough out is
soot: scorched and subjective,
a hurried attempt at translating
a restless disquiet into lexical entities -
ordered, grammatical.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 7:23 AM UTC
~
forcefully polite people spitting surreptitious spite engenders empathy for flight
~
lexical tempests ****** objectivity's flight, and the world secretes meaning
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
twenteesventh.
you write of dismembered leaves,
enhaloed lust(wtf)
pains too sweet because they’re youthfully incomplete,
using incontrovertible idiocies like
dry rain droplets shining like sunlight,
edible goodbye cheerios,
edible didactics, teaching “frosted flakys”
poetic methadone methodology,
poems hats with rhyming lyrics
that taste like that burnt eyelids colored
a blood stained mustard yellow, (yum),
beyond burger veggie based satyrs,
the happy gladness of sadness,
reversible rivers flowing heavenwards,
***** ******* you want an
infernal cataclysm...
really?
dechambered hearts, ventricular mysteries,
brains wearing wooly sport jacket helmets
and other Olsonian beauties,
like I write with succinct passion,
me, who gets eaten alive by buggers saying
“too long,” “too long,” “needed a mid-poem napt”
non-lexical non-commonsensical ecumenical hysterical
chemical verbal reactionaries
and then you wonder why
PEOPLE ******* HATE POETRY?
jes kiddin’ a leetle
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
navigating a conversation
is circumnavigating a globe
a lexical darkness invokes
an expected step in the stairs
that was never there to begin with
seemingly constructed soundly
its revolving linguistic doors
halt and close shut precisely
when an attempted entrance is made
an impossibly difficult rhythm to gauge
except it seems as though everyone else can
alien colloquialisms loom
as familiar judgements rise
surrounding clapperboards echo
as larynx follows suit
interests watered down
manufactured in plastic casing
arbitrary convoluted theorems
of etiquette and mind
as clear as matte black
and as legible as handwriting in transit
as pleasant as disease
yet as necessary as water
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 10:58 PM UTC
When poetry describes the historical,
One refrains from becoming hysterical.
However by use of the judicial rhetorical
A Poet makes full use of the allegorical!
So when writing poetry I remain stoical,
That though some may think me radical,
Employing words they considered lyrical,
I try never to appear, irrational or critical.
To write about the mystical and cryptical,
Using strict rhythm? Can be diabolical!
As for themes regarded purely mythical,
I shy from words too pictorial or technical.
My approach to topics humourously comical,
Is to compose lines thoughtfully satirical.
In turn this allows me to remain sceptical,
Whilst appearing not too fanatical or cynical!
So, if with words I am reckoned economical?
I hope my rational thoughts are not illogical,
But in using descriptive words, is it ethical
To ensure Poems not be too whimsical?
Now, without appearing to be pontifical,
Though I'm always careful to be veridical,
I'm allowed at times, to wax philosophical,
As I attempt to depict matters paradoxical.
Doubtless some will find my words inimical:
Fanatically methodical and chronological?
But in attempting the facetious or ironical,
I'll avoid the pitfalls of being too graphical.
Should poetry be left to the technological?
One might find it becomes too puritanical.
And suggest the Poet was unduly practical!
Such is the way of the biased hypocritical!
If my poetic lines appear to be egotistical?
Then readers must understand, that's logical.
But please I beg of you, never be heretical,
When lines concern the canonical or political.
Will a Poet's thoughts be considered farcical,
If a reader is left bemused and quizzical?
Or should he stick to the unequivocally canonical?
Personally, I'm happy if my poems are grammatical!
So I'll conclude thinking poetry may be symbolical,
And my many rhymes, in quantities numerical,
May not satisfy the purist nor the global ecumenical,
But they deal with topics that are never hypothetical!
Rhymer. July 10th, 2018.
(Your turn Jim!)
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
A lexical set or a rule of three
Rhyming words or an analogy.
Iambic pentameter or just free verse
Acrostic, nostalgic without a rehearse.
Pathetic Fallacy with cloud and rain
Feelings on a page without restrain.
A ballard, a couplet a villanelle or two
AA BB it's up to you.
Personification with trees that moan
Onomatopoeia with frogs that groan.
Similes slither like a snake in sand
Metaphor branches are our hands.
Alliteration angels always await
Sitting on the symbolic gate.
Assonace with early birds and worms
Writing it all in poetry terms.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Maybe he's still alive, that sullen guy
who crept out of the abyss like a moth
and before we even knew the depth,
he saw light and chased every ray.
The beautiful girl unbeknownst by touch,
slided,skated and glided on words
and the two of them flew on lexical wings,
afraid of falling from the heat that was love.
Guy and girl, found one another's arms,
Fought against an avalanche of cold snow,
they held each other against the mountains.
Love soon discovered it was labelled love,
And as my heart awoke to thoughts of you,
suddenly your heart became a guiding light.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
*Maybe he's still alive, that sullen guy
who crept out of the abyss like a moth
and before we even knew the depth,
he saw light and chased every ray.
The beautiful girl unbeknownst by touch,
slided,skated and glided on words
and the two of them flew on lexical wings,
afraid of falling from the heat that was love.
Guy and girl, found one another's arms,
Fought against an avalanche of cold snow,
they held each other against the mountains.
Love soon discovered it was labelled love,
And as my heart awoke to thoughts of you,
suddenly your heart became a guiding light.*
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
Hark, hear me! I spin the tale of a squat dandiprat residing within the cerulean sphere. Sunup to sundown suffering visions of cobalt. As he was inside and all around.
Sky abode! Likewise periwinkle aperture and icy steed. All is azure in his eyes, personally and interpersonally, as he lacks ears to hear him.
I am turquoise non lexical vocables
I am teal non lexical vocables
Behold my beryl lodgings and indigo casement! Such is the tone of all my vestments. The roads and flora follow suit. Lo my sweetheart also Sapphire.
Like the plebeians as they Promenade, as my steed. It is within and throughout. My utterances and perceptions, the operative stirrings deep within.
I am royal non lexical vocables
I am ultramarine non lexical vocables
Most Central and public.
Sky abode! Likewise periwinkle aperture and icy steed. All is azure in his eyes, personally and interpersonally, as he lacks ears to hear him.
I am turquoise non lexical vocables
I am teal non lexical vocables
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal kist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
Through labour divine have I crowned my true self
Through heart I have nurtured pours love so to help
Mine eye witness the highest of truths
Whilst the lexical throat turns to glorious sooth
With grumbling pride geared forth in direction
Clutched sacral chamber in the hope of perfection
To be found
Let the beast within me refuse to bow
In the face of doubt
Conjure king bearing iron sickle
With this riddle he tickles and teaches me
That to let go risks one anonymity
To the passage of time
I shall have to decline thy generosity
For his other bears specular mountain to climb
So I may look upon splendorous peaks of life’s mind to remember
How these steely, dark quandaries must be quietened and tempered
Upon the anvil of hope
The hammer of the philanthropist’s humour will bear down
On this ill-advised, mischievous sprite renowned
As she nibbles at my future’s lobe with sensual demeanour
It is a pleasure to see her
Yet I know this dark queen is a **** in disguise
As the beast rattles its cage demanding demise
Of the higher self
One stroke
I allow
For the sake of goodbyes
These phantom personas aside
We will quickly define ourselves
Alive and well
Each limb we have is able to tell
The story of our privilege
Honour this
Dally not
This is your shot
With the arrow of certainty
Blessed with serendipity
Honed by universal energy
To focus your senses
Then fire away
The reward is life’s blessing
Beginning this day
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC