"syllable" poems
I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
The State of My Tagalog:
Stuttering.
Guess that's what you can call it.
The insecure prose that curls downward
On my notebook.
It reeks of bit
And piece
And syllable.
Singular
Because language
After language
After language
Enter my mind
And slip it
Just as quickly,
Leaving only
Fragments.
Oh, the frustration
As I ask
For loose change
From
My sister cashier.
I can't even ask for
The right amount
In Tagalog nowadays.
"Singkwenta."
"Bente."
That adds up to 75, I think.
Passing score on my
Report card too.
My self-graded Filipino class.
Don't even know
How I managed
To spell "Ibarra,"
"Tanikala," "himagsikan,"
"Liwayway..."
I'd sing and not spell,
If they never caught
At the bottom of my throat.
-------------------------------------------
Ang Kalagayan ng Aking Tagalog:
Nauutal.
'Yan ang pwede **** sabihin sa ‘kin.
Walang tiwala sa sariling gawa,
Patunong pababa ang mga salita
Sa aking kwaderno.
Ito’y sumisingaw ng piraso
At bahagi
At pantig.
Nag-iisa
Dahil wika
Bawa’t wika
Bawa’t wika
Ay pumapasok sa aking kalooban
At umaalis
Ganun ding kabilis,
Naiiwan ang mga
Kaputol lamang nito.
O, kay inip
Habang ako’y humihingi
Ng barya
Kay Ateng Kahera.
‘Di ko nga kayang
Humingi ng tamang halaga
Sa wikang Pilipino ngayon.
“Singkwenta.”
“Bente.”
Ito ay pitompu’t lima, ata.
Pasang awa rin
Sa aking report kard
Sariling pagmamarka sa Filipino.
‘Di ko nga alam
Kung paano 'kong
Naisusulat ang “Ibarra.”
"Tanikala," "himagsikan,"
"Liwayway…"
Nais kong kantahin at huwag lang sulatin,
Kung ‘di lang man silang sumasabit
Sa ilalim ng aking lalamunan.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
672
The Future—never spoke—
Nor will He—like the Dumb—
Reveal by sign—a syllable
Of His Profound To Come—
But when the News be ripe—
Presents it—in the Act—
Forestalling Preparation—
Escape—or Substitute—
Indifference to Him—
The Dower—as the Doom—
His Office—but to execute
Fate’s—Telegram—to Him—
36.9k
I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
For centuries philosophers have speculated the role sleep plays in society
But it was not until the 1950s that sleep woke up in academia
And today sleep studies show what dormant minds really look like
Information about our rest we've never seen before
However, I've always understood the importance of bedtime
You see my parents taught me that sleep and love are soul mates
My mom
She's the sleeper
She loves to sleep
She cuddles up on any piece of furniture in my house and snoozes for hours
Never views a sitcom past the first commercial break when she's tired
And she's okay with that
Dad never lets her drive on road trips when night falls
Preferring his sleeping beauty tucked safely in the passenger seat
Their hands meet as she lets the stars serenade her to slumber
While he anchors his left hand on the steering wheel
Thanking his lucky stars for his real life princess
My dad
He's the snorer
He loves to snore
He roars like a lion on his love seat and naps for hours
Never views a sitcom past the second commercial break when he's tired
And he's okay with that
Mom never lets him sleep alone too long though
Keeping his nose plugged strong enough to signal for bedtime
They both stand together as he lets her guide him to slumber
While she ushers her left hand around his back
Thanking her lucky stars for her own prince charming
Now my parents call me the dreamer
And I sure do love to dream
It seems my parents are textbook role models for me
Because when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Your reality becomes an endless stream of fantasies
Your expectations are exceptionally out of context
Strictly written for poetic lines in picture books
Never meant to be held
Never meant to be felt
Only meant for spines stuck on rosewood shelves
My parents call me the dreamer
And boy I love to dream
I believe in creating the unthinkable
And when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Nothing is fictional
You picture a life with storybook endings
Praying the author never runs out of ink
You crown each syllable the king of the moment
Treating each page like royalty
And I've always been okay with that
So when I asked my mom when she knew she fell in love
She spoke of an instant of unadulterated emotion
She said she knew instantly
She didn't need to sleep on it
When I asked my dad when he knew he fell in love
He just smiled back at me
He must have known instantly
He didn't even speak on it
So when I ask myself when I might fall in love
I can't help but smile
Think of fairytale titles
Mile wide love notes in all shapes and styles
And a moment where my reality sets my hopes on fire
And I won't need to dream about it anymore
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
never
ever
nevermore, words with friends. Triple word how absurd you be trippin **** on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.
I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the *** I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you. But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
next
Flashback to the present
--and--
she still telling me how I don't get it
stressed
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.
Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us! Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican? Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
"and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
*beneath the star-struck, eternal vast,
painted black, blue-grey black -
voices blister of the past.
haven't felt this way in quite some time.
the restless nights. this cold, empty bed.
unrhythmic breaths flood my chest
as I watch my mother die
for the second time.
it's moments like these you never forget.
find yourself waking in a cold, hot sweat.
mind tracing every syllable, every breath;
remembering every word you should have said.
with eyes like a beating heart;
smells of daisy wanderlust.
soul-fire like passion's spark;
worn-out smiles like last night's luck.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
In poetic manipulation
In magic of our words
Beneath the breath
Above duress
Let your heavy
Hearts be heard
In power of rhyme
Upfront sublime
Equal syllable
Entwined
In each consecutive
Spellbinding high
Or
Emotionality low
Crafted on
The twist of tongue
Either way
Let poetry make us whole
We all have the power
Write it down
lock
And load!
.........
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
*I Fell In Love With You
I fell in love with you
slowly,
syllable by syllable,
word by word,
poem by poem
imagining the moon’s
dancing affair with stars,
twinkle by twinkle.
And then
all at once
like the explosion
of a super nova
affecting distant galaxies
and down to my very soul.
~~~
I fell in love with you gently,
the way a dew drop
glistens in the morning sun,
the way a flower often opens
to a moonlit song.
~~~
But like all love worth holding,
it turns to fire-
raging,
uncontrolled,
wild and consuming;
you have become the flames
dancing across my skin,
smoldering brightly
within my heart
turning me into the sweet smell of ash.
~~~
I fell in love with you
slowly
then quickly,
the way a meteor flashes
as it skims across the night sky
or hearts melt
within an ******** sigh.
I fell in love with you.
Sorry.
Aztec Warrior 12.4.15*
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Inside of us you should always reign
with poetry given the main game
the lamenting heart of a stars heart
like chorus in a distant land
echoing through your star lite chamber
Compassionate parts of poetry of tomorrow...
Capable of infinite sorrow
expressive eyes that see
such kindness
as much as me...
To be special in an indifferent world
makes no difference in your million years
In the mire of your worlds
you hang on to every syllable
when hurt comes in shades
you write and weep in your poetry...
A poet's life, not understood
many shake their heads and go
as each poet's days on paper are born
carrying a message to another's day
the immortal message maker of beauty
fires the souls of God's art, that cries for me...
Through my poetry my heart has grown
contacts are many that share their life
seek their poetry through each strife
sweet to all our visions giving air of love
surrounded by a blazing sphere of sweet doves ..
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
I admire you,
I really do,
The way words flow through you,
Almost like you're some form of prophet,
Each syllable etching a new crack of brilliant clarity in the timeline of our former hazy days.
I admire you,
I adore you,
Let me keep you.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
I'd like to introduce myself to you
One letter, one syllable, one word at a time
I would like to take things slow with you
Play get to know with you
Like I've never been allowed to do before
I want to capture those butterflies
And release them into skies of us
Me and that one
My Mr. Right that has paid your attention in full
That can simmer in the quite between our glances
He would never waste our time on second chances
Because we are what time well spent is
I would like to introduce myself to you
Spell me out with big doe eyes
That only you can read into
That only you would take the years to understand
And looking back
You see me for who I am
Unadorned by outside exteriors
I never feel vulnerable with you
You cloak me in the reassurance that you are here
Here in each moment that I need you
I would like to introduce myself to you
Planting memories that we can sip on in our bad days
Locked in gazes that I don't care to escape
I can't wait to meet you, or reintroduce
I would like to introduce myself to you
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
the devil wears puppy-print pajamas and waits outside his vacant house for you to come,
the devil calls you only by the first syllable of your name and tells you your hair is the most attractive thing about you,
the devil gives you water in a coffee cup the first time you sit on his bed and accidentally spills it on you when he tries to kiss you,
the devil has eyes like the murky lagoons he told you he would visit with you,
and a scar the shape of a crescent moon on his forehead.
the devil leans up against the wall and asks, "why are you doing this to me? you're making me feel so guilty."
the devil doesn't pay his phone bill and ignores you when you say you need to talk,
the devil calls once, twice, a few times, once at 12:45 when you swore he wouldn't call, and never again,
the devil moves houses and forgets to warn you that he lost his heart in the process,
the devil doesn't care that they drained the lake near his house,
the devil doesn't notice that they took his ******* heart with it when they did.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
A little sight, him sauntering over to my side of the bed
pantless and looking eager as a child to see me:
he had her ******* in mind. I know now,
I only feel sympathetic about it, I know it pained him
when he touched mine.
He said her name so few times I just thought of her as the
animal homophone, and if I were anyone else,
I would not have worried when he said
she thought of him on occasion, because morning came
as morning still and he still had a big heart for a liar.
The thing is that our rapport was honesty –
if I laid on him too heavy, he would request I scoot over
if he did not want to sing me a song
in that baritone fluid, I would seek another shoreline.
Submissive, yet, I would ask him what I wanted without
asking if he could simply love being loved,
I could not understand. Only a scruffy teddy bear could.
But we do not talk about it, maybe I mention
a bunny an ex gave me, one I cut the ears off of when
the apocalypse came, but he has not a syllable.
Nobody wants their lovers to exist
with other loves, and sometimes we do not want ourselves
to exist with other loves even more so.
I only feel sympathetic about it, because I first felt I had
a sibling when we connected, became all carnal,
sweet nature handed me a body.
I only just understood that I was not given the right one.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
Yes, I'm afraid to let you in. I'm afraid that you'll listen and care for the moment. I'm afraid you'll hear every syllable that leaves my lips. I'm afraid you'll analyze it all and reach the point where I'm deemed as "not worth it". I'm afraid you'll throw me away like ******* Like everyone else has.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
I feel like a friend-- a true friend,
is more than a profile on a website.
And peace is more than a handshake agreement
brought by the outcome of a gruesome fight.
I know that self worth is more than someone's opinion,
and in no other dominion but mine own to foster and care for.
And I can see that happiness is more than having money, sure,
cause most of us laugh everyday here, and come on, we're dirt poor.
And I pray the human soul is more than Casper's counterpart,
somewhere between the heart and the pancreas.
And God, faith is so much more than cryin' and dyin'
over spilt milk between religions.
And in case you were confused, "I love you", is more than
pet names, bed games, and ***
Music is more than pimps, hoes, and MTV Shows, and T-Pain singin through a computer.
Believe that life is more than grades and degrees,
or drugs and disease,
or the 'ABCs' of success that some old man wrote a thousand years ago.
This poem has to be more than words strewn together
to voice my discontent at the status-quo..
Hell, the word "more" itself is more than a one-syllable statment
that what we lack in the present
is just a larger quantity of the **** "we already have",
and no!
The power of your silent agreement is more than that
of my voice alone, so...
What is "more"?
In many ways, "more" is the friend you never had.
More peace in the world would end all the mindless bloodshed.
More respect and selfworth would bring beauty back to youth,
especially to the women in the world,
that sell their unique souls to look like the cover of Cosmo.
More faith, that grants serenity in the times of hardship,
will be the soothing hand of an Angel on our shoulders as
we say, "I love you" to our enemies, martyrs for a better world.
More positive music will inspire us,
to be the change we want to see in the world, today,
instead of, "Waitin' on the World to Change "♫ ♪ ♫♪
So ladies and gentlemen, make a decision: if you want to be
critics and vipers,
war mongers and hope-snipers,
ignore my intention, and live with more division.
But, if any of you are artists starving for meaning and inspiration,
if you envision a world of more than... THIS...
Then let a word change a feeling,
change a thought, change a meaning,
change your mind...
And get more out of life.
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 1:38 PM UTC
.
*I could kiss your lips through the words of a rhyme,
letters delivered with tender exquisite affection,
each syllable a moisture drop on delicate lips,
velvet verse licking porcelain, tasting perfection.
Stanzas saturated with the metaphors of love,
dripping salaciously upon your excited sighs,
I could kiss your lips through the words of a rhyme
as they glisten like a jewel between your thighs.*
© Pagan Paul (20/02/18)
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
I was once asked to spell the word Depression
Now that was an interesting question to me because lets face it
Who does not know how to spell depression
It is three syllables
It is ten letters
It is just once word
Or at least that was the answer he was looking for.
I was once asked to spell the word Depression
I thought for a second and said
"Which way would you like me to spell it"
The teacher paused and looked at me quizzically
"What kind of question is that"
He chuckled
Like he thought I was dimwitted he repeated himself
"I would like you to spell the word Depression it is rather simple"
And now this is where I got to chuckle and say
"Sir, I believe what you are asking is a question I cannot answer, because to me Depression is not a three syllable, 10 letter word. Depression is when my sister comes home to a dead father, and Depression is when my best friend get diagnosed with Cancer. You see to me the Depression you are asking me to spell is the same Depression That gets you laughed out of a hospital. The same Depression that gets you a handful of 'cheer up's' and 'Get over it's.' and maybe even some 'Oh just be happy's' But last I checked when someone has Cancer, we do not tell them to "Just get better" or when someone is sitting in the ER with a cracked skull, we do not tell them to 'Just give it time, you're fine.'"
The boy sitting in front of you could not "just give it time"
When his mother died in his arms
And the girl that you pass through the halls could not "just be happy"
After she had true love ruined for her when some man did not Understand the word "No"
And your dad who calls every sunday cannot "cheer up" because the love of his life has died and his own son does not care to come see him on his birthday
So Sir when you ask me to spell Depression I ask which way because
I spell Depression D-E-A-T-H
and I spell Depression A-L-O-N-E
and I spell Depression S-I-C-K-N-E-S-S
So Sir I spell Depression S-U-F-F-E-R-I-N-G
And I define it as misunderstood for something in ones control/
So do not tell me it is simple to spell and do not tell me I am stupid when I ask in which way you are asking because to me
Depression isn't a simple
Three syllable
Ten letter word
That you use to define those who you do not care to know
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
I cannot write a sonnet; it's too hard
To put such barriers around my brain
And thus I find my efforts often marred
Although I rephrase again and again
I cannot write a sonnet though I try
Through day and night; through winter, into spring
And even though I have no reason why
A ten-syllable line my thoughts won't bring
But now I wonder just what is so great
About this iambic pentameter?
And am almost resigned that it's my fate
That from the sonnet form I should defer
Yet, having spent so long in search of one
'Twould be a shame if it should not be done
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 5:46 AM UTC
I can hear your voice saying my name,
it feels good that you know it,
it sounds nice coming from your lips,
it looks sweet when you write it,
please..
say it again,
tell me you smile when you think of it,
that you love saying it,
and the vibrations you feel
as each syllable rolls off your tongue
sends tingles through your body,
I hope you never forget it.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 11:12 AM UTC
Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
6.8k
My dream girl found a lover
She speaks of him in rhyming lines
the joy she feels dancing between every heart shaped syllable,
thumbing it's nose at my breaking heart.
My dream girl found a lover
the deal was sealed with a rain soaked kiss
and hands that fit just-so.
A love tightly bound,
according to her rose tinted ink.
My dream girl found a lover
I hope he hears the fragility in her sighs
over the beauty that radiates when her smile crinkles her nose,
for that alone can distract a man from the sound of breaking.
My dream girl found a lover
to mend her broken heart,
a coveted position filled.
Leaving me forever dreaming
of almosts and half smiles.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Dancing under digits
Spacing between words
I count them all
Each syllable
Once, twice, I heard them dancing in my mind
Floating, instant reality
Bringing distance
Separating elements
From pen to page
You sing in colour
Yet speak so beige
Words, what do they mean?
Sailing through an infinite horizon
Your thoughts like waves
Shattering a tranquil line
Logical
Emotional
Trying to entwine
Encapsulating a memory
That will never be mine.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC