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Tongues
the tongue
of my body
is in the nerves
the tongue
of my soul
in the heart
the tongue of
my mind
in the head
the tongue
of truth and deceits
in the mouth
the tongue of
the World (Creation)
in the words
of God
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need To Hear!
I want to hear.
how much your language is.
His way to express so soft.
And how English is so touching! And so tender! In your voice.
because my, is so rude!
and yours, is so spherical
and when I expected for one R
Always comes a Th
so smooth!
That´s confused me!
that reminds me when the smoothness of your tongue meet mine.
And overcome and resign me!
Only in English! ! !
two famous tongue can be meet.
mellow and back words.
Only for you, because your wet time i insist! And you have a beautiful weather! ! ! Can unite drops and sounds.
Oh! No, beautiful language!
Oh! wrong again? ? ? What beautiful wet tongue! ! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Walk On By, Walk On Me
your tongue pierced my fragile heart
careless words are daggers thrown
unaware unapproachable
unwilling silence from a sounding voice
you entwine praise with curses
your words burn like hell itself
silence from a sounding voice
all this by the tongue created
your words become hell itself
i lay bleeding in the flames
the tongue creates it tongue...
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Words Travel by Tongue
Strange Words Travel by Tongue
by Alex Lewis
Strange words travel by tongue
A lesson learnt at young.
If this is how strange words fly,
Then how do normal ones travel by?
By plane? By boat?
By horse? By goat?
By ear? By eye?
By ground? By sky?
Unless, all words are strange.
Thus, shortening the range
Of good and bad.
Of sane and mad.
Of old and young.
All words travel by tongue.
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cook ingredients that you are used to cooking by other techniques, such as fish, chicken, or hamburgers. In other words be comfortable with the ingredients you are using.
quote by Bobby Flay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gliding In The Air
A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.
Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
Eventually they look like a mouth, as smooth as the air.
A strange spectacle has been captured in the rain,
After a bird, not reptile, does fly south, as smooth as the air.
When strangers bespeak a multifarious journey through the air,
I gather it is more than just levitation or youth, as smooth as the air.
I love the young journey to the east,
A happy rhythm up north, as smooth as the air.
Why do we hesitate to look powerful?
When we glide in the sky, as smooth as the air.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sonnet: Keep Your Promises
When promises are made, keep them will you?
If not, never make promises that all;
Your words uttered must be carried out too;
Foolish-statements can bring on one’s downfall!
All words spoken must be done with great care;
A smooth-tongued man cannot go on for long;
One can’t allow the nails to grow but pare!
The tongue can curse or sing a soothing song!
Why think one thought and do another thing?
’Tis best to be as frank as you can be;
All sugared-words cannot results good bring;
It is wise to speak with care whole-heartedly.
Honor must one, the promises one makes;
Ingredients decide the cake, one bakes!
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tyring To Be Smooth In Speech
this morning i read
some notes
about myself and i notice how i tried to be
smooth
in my speech as my notes still want to insist
ethical considerations
the motif of my day, the struggle to be always
calm and cool
the war against the tendency
to hurt another without our conscious knowing
but
all seems to be
a kind of futile attempt to be kind
and gentle
like a dog wagging its tail when you meet
along the doorsteps
of your house
i open some pages again of my
diary
or journal of the day
on a cup of tea
and two pieces of cookies
at first the language flows like a river
clear and
i even tasted a cup of its water
smooth to my
esophagus
and cool to my gum and i think
sweet, even sweet to my tongue
and i can feel
it flowing again smoothly
to my intestines
and then here i am finally
vomiting
i suppose nostalgia
is nothing but
nausea, the speech of loneliness
about a memory
long gone and very far away
the words are smooth
and then
somehow they kill
i close the journal at once
i open the window
let the air come in
as i wait for the morning sun
to shine and then
warm me a bit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mother Tongue
A secretive being provides safety for the individual,
My cancers grow and multiply for every one acceptable.
Let hardness be attached to the so many words
In this high and mighty language, the one of hazards.
Must we seek caves and crevices for our illness
To disappear finally and successfully in stillness?
The being inside is like an island of woes,
I have hidden all these grand avocados.
Let secrets spoil the words so plentiful in this tongue,
The tongue is the mother tongue, and it is hung.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The mute singer
She cut out her tongue
So she could sing
Those unheard songs
sung
She cut out her tongue
So silently
She could unspeak herself
Free, from prison words
She cut out her tongue
So that her soul could catch the light
And let it run
Through her body transparent
Prism shining out
She cut out her tongue
To free her self
From her self
Completion
Knitted under the skin of silence
Flying unseen
Into unexplored horizons
Without
Mother
Country
Point of
Trace
She cut out her tongue
To see the eyes
Behind the face
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Your Wish
you wait for my words
My word to you.
But where is you tongue?
Much better than my.
Much wet than me.
I don´t know if it is bellow or a little above.
Maybe, his tongue, moves through a single kiss.
Or maybe, throught silence words.
A breathe.
But its so good.
Breathe away.
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Definition of the truth and lie
The truth
Some words hidden
In the depth of conscience,
Are dug out with the showel of honesty,
And decorated on the tongue,
To slip away.
Lie
Some words remain on the tongue all the time,
Without the refuge of conscience,
And spoken freely,
As God is no more.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Smooth
i want words
to be smooth
smoothly said
and smoothly
understood
like rum sliding
in my throat
directly inside
my belly
smooth as tiles
on the floor
effervescent as
your breath in
my mouth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The elusion of words
The elusion of words
~
I wish to say
Those words which elude me
Those I sometimes forget to say
Or I find to frightening to speak
I may misuse those words
Allow them to betray my tongue
And live with that regret
~
I do not wish to cheapen them
In saying you are beautiful
That I love you deeply
I fear they may become clichés
That you discount them
As mere polite conversations
~
How may I express myself
To reveal the truth of my soul
Frightened by the idea of loss
That I may watch you slip away
That how happy you have made me
Is a way I’d almost forgotten
That I never thought I’d feel again
~
I may not be the wisest of men
I am humble enough to admit
That as much as I play with words
Those which still elude my tongue
Talk of this love I feel for you
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Poet
POET
He is a poet
When his thoughts survey
What distressed millions flay
He is a poet
When his works slay
Every social evil sway
He is a poet
When his words relay
What virtuous people say
He is a poet
When his expressions lay
Portraits on brains’ gray
Sathya….
poem by Sathya Narayana
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I guess I fell into cooking.
quote by Bobby Flay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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