"loquaciously" poems
Weighing brutality's candour is taxing
Feeling the certainty, heavily dark,
Sonorous mutterings echo in twilight
Whitely, loquaciously, utterly stark.
***** ***** in a temperament simmering
Stalking through rage in a judgemental way,
Lurching for conflict from deep in the mindset
Locked in a skirmish of consequence play.
Searing white pain of brutality's candour
Reeling from obvious lack of control,
Obliquely collapsed beneath blue jackaranda
Flaccidly spent, I surrender my role.
Marshalg
In absentia
7 December 2011
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 12:15 PM UTC
When people say they're tired of a person, often a friend—
Do they mean, exhausted with the idea of submission to their actions
Responding to their preferences
Falling prey to all their ways
Or hearing them drone loquaciously
Putting down disagree-ers gratuitously
Speaking of themselves, about very little else
Until all hope and faith in them has deteriorated beyond all mercy?
I am yet to confirm
What is true beyond all else
Gone through the Rubicon,
Universal to all nations
But why must I tolerate a monk
That devoutly praises himself to the depths
Beyond all fierce comprehension,
His devotion remains a quandary
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
The verbose ramblings of memory’s script,
A loquacious brimming cup to which I bid myself sip,
An evanescent longing to drink deep and ponder,
These dreams of expectation I contemplate no longer.
Time has past from my sinuous youth,
A spiraling existence of loosing tooth after tooth,
From virtuous ****** to gorges of shame,
Extensive transformation allows little to remain.
Musing of tomorrow and what turns it might take,
Thoughts to be built and then several to eradicate,
Perpendicular arms stretched out skyward,
Ranking arrogance next to coward.
The simple silence of presence’s suspense,
Listening for something lacking in substance,
A quiet moment I accept as does come,
For such a chance as this occurs consequently seldom.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 1:17 PM UTC
~~~
black birds cluster in
barren winter trees like leaves...
... caw loquaciously
lone dove on far branch
shivers in the frigid wind
then she flies away
she goes far beyond
the subtle pink sunrise to
a place of summer
(c) soulsurvivor
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
1
He leant down
Quietly carving his name into the sand;
The pursuing waves,
Repeatedly rippling forward, with
The force of a motorized modern army
Gunning down civilians,
Dragged it clean.
Flies loquaciously buzzed around his head,
As, crushing down seaweed,
He carved his name again.
2.
The roots dug deep, pushing against
The soil. The particles spread apart
With sexless ardour. The man,
Of a tolerant disposition, wrenched
The roots free with drenched hands.
Nothing lasted forever.
3.
The yellow and green of the sunrise
Turned swiftly into unpretentious browns
The light changing shape as the
Morning matured and the sun
Rose further in the sky. Pumped up
Clouds rolled sinuously along, combining and separating
Like fantastic amoeba.
4.
And so it continued
Under the burning sun; more spiteful from year to year.
The man said nothing
As he climbed into the salt water,
Gulls circumnavigating above his head,
With nothing to say or remember
Except the lines in the sand.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Uncle Vanya and Lady Godiva
Uncle Vanya came strolling down the road
Wishing he had made something of his life
His young friend Anne loquaciously agreed
And with remarkable vehemence urged him
to endeavour to remediate his perceived inadequacies in the
many precedent matters that burdened him…
Don Quixote suggested that worries were giants
Cassandra said, “There is only one page left”
Nick Adams whispered, “Shh! You’ll scare the fish!”
Ambrose Silk asked the way to the world’s end
And young Lady Godiva, sans chemise
Outsourced her image on souvenir tees
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
Uncle Vanya and Lady Godiva
Uncle Vanya came strolling down the road
Wishing he had made something of his life
His young friend Anne loquaciously agreed
And with remarkable vehemence urged
him to endeavour to remediate his perceived inadequacies in the many precedent matters that burdened him…
Don Quixote suggested that worries were giants
Cassandra sighed, “There is only one page left”
Nick Adams whispered, “Shh! You’ll scare the fish!”
Ambrose Silk asked the way to the world’s end
And young Lady Godiva, sans chemise
Outsourced her image on souvenir tees
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC