The Grammarians Funeral
Eight Parts of Speech this Day wear Mourning Gowns
Declin'd Verbs, Pronouns, Participles, Nouns.
And not declined, Adverbs and Conjunctions,
In Lillies Porch they stand to do their functions.
With Preposition; but the most affection
Was still observed in the Interjection.
The Substantive seeming the limbed best,
Would set an hand to bear him to his Rest.
The Adjective with very grief did say,
Hold me by strength, or I shall faint away.
The Clouds of Tears did over-cast their faces,
Yea all were in most lamentable Cases.
The five Declensions did the Work decline,
And Told the Pronoun Tu, The work is thine:
But in this case those have no call to go
That want the Vocative, and can't say O!
The Pronouns said that if the Nouns were there,
There was no need of them, they might them spare:
But for the sake of Emphasis they would,
In their Discretion do what ere they could.
Great honour was confer'd on Conjugations,
They were to follow next to the Relations.
Amo did love him best, and Doceo might
Alledge he was his Glory and Delight.
But Lego said by me he got his skill,
And therefore next the Herse I follow will.
Audio said little, hearing them so hot,
Yet knew by him much Learning he had got.
O Verbs the Active were, Or Passive sure,
Sum to be Neuter could not well endure.
But this was common to them all to Moan
Their load of grief they could not soon Depone.
A doleful Day for Verbs, they look so moody,
They drove Spectators to a Mournful Study.
The Verbs irregular, 'twas thought by some,
Would break no rule, if they were pleas'd to come.
Gaudeo could not be found; fearing disgrace
He had with-drawn, sent Maereo in his Place.
Possum did to the utmost he was able,
And bore as Stout as if he'd been A Table.
Volo was willing, Nolo some-what stout,
But Malo rather chose, not to stand out.
Possum and Volo wish'd all might afford
Their help, but had not an Imperative Word.
Edo from Service would by no means Swerve,
Rather than fail, he thought the Cakes to Serve.
Fio was taken in a fit, and said,
By him a Mournful POEM should be made.
Fero was willing for to bear a part,
Altho' he did it with an aking heart.
Feror excus'd, with grief he was so Torn,
He could not bear, he needed to be born.
Such Nouns and Verbs as we defective find,
No Grammar Rule did their attendance bind.
They were excepted, and exempted hence,
But Supines, all did blame for negligence.
Verbs Offspring, Participles hand-in-hand,
Follow, and by the same direction stand:
The rest Promiscuously did croud and cumber,
Such Multitudes of each, they wanted Number.
Next to the Corpse to make th' attendance even,
Jove, Mercury, Apollo came from heaven.
And Virgil, Cato, gods, men, Rivers, Winds,
With Elegies, Tears, Sighs, came in their kinds.
Ovid from Pontus hast's Apparrell'd thus,
In Exile-weeds bringing De Tristibus:
And Homer sure had been among the Rout,
But that the Stories say his Eyes were out.
Queens, Cities, Countries, Islands, Come
All Trees, Birds, Fishes, and each Word in Um.
What Syntax here can you expect to find?
Where each one bears such discomposed mind.
Figures of Diction and Construction,
Do little: Yet stand sadly looking on.
That such a Train may in their motion chord,
Prosodia gives the measure Word for Word.
poem by Benjamin Tompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words And Words
let us have an illusion of words
mesmerize ourselves with the movements of its verbs
and pretend about the beautiful feeling of its adjectives
let nothing be too personal about nouns
let us not be too excited about some interjections
let us shy away from so many questions
no orders, no imperatives no coercions
for tonight let there be only demonstrative pronouns
lips kissing, arms embracing, neck petting,
thighs making on top of each other hands entwine
fingers running, abdomens ebbing
let all be not just wishes, let it not just be on subjunctive moods
let there be verbs of romance, let there be sentences of lust
let us forget for once the word much abused by all:
i do not wish to utter it, let not love be feigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What We See As...
What we see as nouns
are verbs to God…
see the water in this glass –
clear and still;
taste the water in this glass –
its sweet taste with no taste..
watch the Spring rain;
smell the earth give thanks
see the washing blowing on the line
smelling happy to be clean
see the mighty river, fierce
to reach the sea
watch the evening sea-fog roll in over the bay;
see the city washed afresh in the morning sun;
look up to the glorious theatre of clouds,
obeying water’s laws for all to watch;
know what mercy is; how it descends – appears,
as the gentle rain from heaven within;
what we see as nouns
are verbs to God
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry is all nouns and verbs.
quote by Marianne Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
If It All Falls Down
By: matt betton
1986
I never wanted to be
A man of mystery
My lifes an open book
By james joyce and agatha christie
Sometimes I get confused
Somewhere around page two
I live the perfect crime
And crime pays more than it used to
Theyre checkin the evidence
May be some charges pressed
The only one they got me on
Is some misdemeanor craziness
Chorus:
If it all falls down falls down falls down
If they solve my life they find me out
Never thought to keep all I have found
I have had my fun if it all falls down
If it all falls down falls down falls down
I have had my fun I have bought a few rounds
And been out on the town way out on the town
Way way way out if it all falls down
Never wanted to be
A part of history
I have my days in the sun
A beach bum a man for all seasides
Guidance counselor said
Your scores are anti-heroic
Computer recommends
Hard-drinking calypso poet
Studied life at sea
Studied life in bars
Never passed my s.a.t.s
So I thought Id study extra hard
Chorus:
If it all falls down falls down falls down
I have learned my trade from the inside out
I can strum real hard I can play real loud
I can charm a crowd if it all falls down
If it all falls down falls down falls down
I can warm a crowd I can make them shout
I can juggle verbs adverbs and nouns
I can make them dance til they all fall down
We had plenty of doctors
We had plenty of lawyers
We had people to make us things
We had people to sell us those things
Didnt have enough room for those things
We build lots of self storage
Calypso poet shortage
Calypso poet shortage
Chorus:
If it all falls down falls down falls down
Ill have filled that void from city to town
Ill have spent my money and taken my bows
Ill have had my fun if it all falls down
If it all falls down falls down falls down
If they solve my life if they find me out
Never thought to keep all I have found
I have had my fun if it all falls down
If it all falls down falls down falls down
I can charm a crowd til they snake dance round
With calypso beat down island sound
I can make them dance til they all fall down
Chorus:
If it all falls down falls down falls down
I can warm a crowd I can make them shout
I can juggle verbs adverbs and nouns
I can make them dance til they all fall down
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Most metaphysical words in Hopi are verbs, not nouns as in European languages.
quote by Benjamin Whorf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Creation of a Single Composition
It has been said, poetry is nothing more that placing
The proper word in its proper place.
How simply stated for the effort of a single composition!
Beneath the primeval of our subconscious mind
Lies the clay-material of all creation,
The strata of spiritual sedimentation,
Laid down before our birth.
From this wet plastic matter comes the substance
Of our imagination, the foundation
For the architecture of our reflections.
Sculpting images by the vocabulary used,
The writer cast, molds and shapes
The verbs and nouns into their final stage
Of fluid acquiescence.
Thus, the poet, by placing each word
Into its proper place, gives power, vision and speech
To every inaimate object;
Translating the infinite invisible,
Into sacred symbols,
From the potter's mind of thought.
(Blank Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Killer Word
Strewn on the ground
were the nouns;
the gerunds
and the active verbs,
along with the Criminal Looks
and Sly Slights.
There was a Wad of Silence
masquerading as 'Quiet Time.'
The Absences were white chalk outlines
and fittingly so-
there was nothing of substance left.
The yellow plastic cord-rope
denoted the murder scene-
'move on' the cop said
'nothing left to here to see.'
You could glimpse the outline
of a person there
face-down in the street;
cut down from childhood
with Withering Stares
and Stab-Words;
Rejecting Gerunds
Shredded Feeling Tones,
Mocking Participles-
Little Murders all of them-
Psychic Evils
marauding Word Killers-
inflicting wounds that bleed-
inside the mind;
blood red emotions
running thick in the street.
Someone calls 911
but they come much too late.
What's really needed is 411
for those who need to know
Psychic Wounds
burrow deep
and eat out
from the inside.
A word is a dangerous thing
to swing
in a crowded room.
You can put someone's
heart out
in the bitter
cold;
where warm hearts
freeze-dry;
shrivel up
and sometimes cynicalize
from Bitter Hate
and then
Word-Murder
somebody else.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Something Understandable
in your busy life
there is no time for
a puzzle
and so to make things
easier for you
i am simplifying words
i am giving you
all nouns and
adjectives
i am setting aside
all the verbs
like a still painting
you may stop
and find yourself
there
immobile
calm and still
stuffed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetries
Step lightly here;
Words below:
Adverbs too.
Be ginger with the Sentences;
Note: the Clauses have so much Ego.
Oh, let's not talk Punctuation,
the pickiness makes for unrelating.
I have had a personal thing about
the Pluperfect Tense,
before I learned to get it right-
I think.
Now, I do like the Action Verbs
they stand out.
But the Hyperbolic Adjectives are overused,
don't you think?
The pronouns are the worse.
Especially the 'I'
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
They even look like prison bars,
so limiting I think.
The 'G' is great.
Looks friendly; rather like it's waving.
Well, you get the idea.
Have to go you know
Here comes Mr. Period.
He is so rigid.
He thinks everything
begins and ends
with him.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is your substance...?
What’s your ‘substance’, Aristotle, pray? -
that in your book On Metaphysics, you
should feel the need to look at ‘being’ more
than Plato said of soul? How ‘know thyself’?
You focus your so glorious mind, O sage,
on what confronts us in our human state;
hoping that from there, all will disclose
itself; and so you seek to formulate:
in Book Four, Chapter Two, acutely list
four ways, four meanings, of the Greek as used;
to us, they’re more apparent grammar-wise:
‘being’ as noun, verb, adverb, adjective…
you ultimately choose the languaged thing:
nouned as existence, substance - ‘ousia’;
no wonder Shakespeare took you up on that;
asking as he did, God’s self in human form
what were the essence of that insubstantial
substance that the world’s whole being holds:
and out from all these cloudy worlds of thought -
it’s ‘constancy’ in godly human heart..
I wonder, Aristotle, if Will’s search
to see the One that’s constant in the All
would satisfy your subtle Grecian mind?
or, in Creation’s grammar as it lives,
do active verbs precede substantive nouns?
And do we know our godly self more true,
as constant in ourselves, in Being Now?
*
[For Pete, who asked]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Visit To Poemville
Come with me now
to visit the town
where all the Poems live.
There we have fine houses
carefully built
with words, verisimilitudes
and verbs;
wide open windows;
poetic friends waving from inside
some shutters are closed-
inhabitants moved on-
deleted.
Our streets
have funny names:
Heart Break and Bitter Regret
Love Lane and Candy Dates;
Shoulda and Coulda Avenue.
I have some verbs in the Infirmary
awaiting Transitivity;
The nouns are in the ICU
real unconformable in there;
lots of feelings in ICU-
good and bad.
There are the Orphaned Poems
where Imagination suddenly departed
leaving them dispirited and inspiration-less
They stare at me from their blank pages.
In our cemetery
are the dead and buried ones-
some poems you loved to death
but they just could not live alone
their Similes Similed-
got watered down too much
and they.
just passed away.
I buried them one by one
with a tiny cry
and goodbye;
maybe I loved them too much.
At the local Bitter Bar
all lined up Cowboy Style
are the One's Gone Wrong.
They drink too much of Stale Gerunds
and their Swaggering Participles
are off-putting to the many,
who walk past the Saloon Doors
where only their heads and feet
show;
no torso seen;
no body in them
to sustain
them as poems.
Some are in re-development
being re-conceived;
others are beyond rehabilitation;
not dead,
not alive
yet they sit on my desk
starring straight ahead;
nothing to say.
But here now
is the hospital
perhaps our happiest place.
Inside
new Baby Poems
being born'
their Baby Grammar
just starting.
As I write their first lines
I hear myself giggle.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Conquer The World With Words
I conquer the world with words,
conquer the mother tongue,
verbs, nouns, syntax.
I sweep away the beginning of things
and with a new language
that has the music of water the message of fire
I light the coming age
and stop time in your eyes
and wipe away the line
that separates
time from this single moment.
poem by Nizar Qabbani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Verbs Of Power
Verbs of Power - now here's the sum of another drum
Now mortals aware, now prepare for illogical son
My Verbs of Power are the spiritual spank
My deep, deep Blackness, your mind gets dank
Revelation to Genesis, something you cannot dismiss
Keys to Crossroad, come to abyss!
And find a verb-stick swingin' while I'm livin', giving the rhythm
Heed the word, and the bass-drop given!
A funk down, super sound, lyrical, visual
Illogical wisdom, forever continual
You're living simplistically, yet speak of reality
Your science, elementary - Dare speak? You can't get with me
Look at the wax, it's hieroglyphic, it's actual fact
I'm not reading and striving to wanna be Black
Here's the move 'cause I see none
I never boast, I never brag, I get the job done
I'm not the [?Buckley?] political, nor am I the physical
The rhythmical spiritual, the mystical magical
Movement is circle, never 90 degrees of a square
I'm the gorilla - robotics will run in a scare
Just to find that the zero's the ground
Come into my temple, have a seat at the round, feel the power
[Professor X]
Brother, Brother, Brother, how you make 'em get down?
[Brother J]
Professor Overseer, I've got pimp in my crown
It was the pimp that drove the mountainous elephant
It was ignorance that made this irrelevant
I'm not the pasta boy, I'm the African, call me by name
I'm the original, I taught you to set up this game
You silly mortal, keep on playing the Trump
I think they're gonna have to get me,
from stompin' and kickin' your rump
Once again, now it comes in the trend
I said "Free South Africa!" - you went to Berlin
Now there's the problem, I stand firm, beating my chest
You think a silly polar bear could ever put this to rest?
And yet they still will apologize, while I will epitomize
Embrace my children, show them Creator's eyes
Onto the path of the mystical teaching the math
No more to suffer - it's time for the wrath
Feel the power
On to the throne, the throne I come forth
Weapon of our rule, the verbs of great Thoth
Look at the sundial, look at the child of man
Where's the faith in the Spirit, the master plan?
Opportunity - the spoils of religion of God-man
Hero to rescue the drum jam
Fire, water, air and earth, I AM the fool
Teaching power that I never could learn in school
I am the teacher from the far and beyond
Turn an apple to a lotus, turn a rib to a wand
To compare me or dare me is foolish, it's more than a job
No entertainment - illogical odd god
Has come - straight from Amon-Tet with the herb dish
Come with the Verb Stick, the bag of the new tricks
Stronger than ever, my intent of the universe
Coming of immortals is the strength of the verse
That's the power
song performed by by X-Clan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Verbs Of Power
Verbs of Power - now here's the sum of another drum
Now mortals aware, now prepare for illogical son
My Verbs of Power are the spiritual spank
My deep, deep Blackness, your mind gets dank
Revelation to Genesis, something you cannot dismiss
Keys to Crossroad, come to abyss!
And find a verb-stick swingin' while I'm livin', giving the rhythm
Heed the word, and the bass-drop given!
A funk down, super sound, lyrical, visual
Illogical wisdom, forever continual
You're living simplistically, yet speak of reality
Your science, elementary - Dare speak? You can't get with me
Look at the wax, it's hieroglyphic, it's actual fact
I'm not reading and striving to wanna be Black
Here's the move 'cause I see none
I never boast, I never brag, I get the job done
I'm not the [?Buckley?] political, nor am I the physical
The rhythmical spiritual, the mystical magical
Movement is circle, never 90 degrees of a square
I'm the gorilla - robotics will run in a scare
Just to find that the zero's the ground
Come into my temple, have a seat at the round, feel the power
[Professor X]
Brother, Brother, Brother, how you make 'em get down?
[Brother J]
Professor Overseer, I've got pimp in my crown
It was the pimp that drove the mountainous elephant
It was ignorance that made this irrelevant
I'm not the pasta boy, I'm the African, call me by name
I'm the original, I taught you to set up this game
You silly mortal, keep on playing the Trump
I think they're gonna have to get me,
from stompin' and kickin' your rump
Once again, now it comes in the trend
I said "Free South Africa!" - you went to Berlin
Now there's the problem, I stand firm, beating my chest
You think a silly polar bear could ever put this to rest?
And yet they still will apologize, while I will epitomize
Embrace my children, show them Creator's eyes
Onto the path of the mystical teaching the math
No more to suffer - it's time for the wrath
Feel the power
On to the throne, the throne I come forth
Weapon of our rule, the verbs of great Thoth
Look at the sundial, look at the child of man
Where's the faith in the Spirit, the master plan?
Opportunity - the spoils of religion of God-man
Hero to rescue the drum jam
Fire, water, air and earth, I AM the fool
Teaching power that I never could learn in school
I am the teacher from the far and beyond
Turn an apple to a lotus, turn a rib to a wand
To compare me or dare me is foolish, it's more than a job
No entertainment - illogical odd god
Has come - straight from Amon-Tet with the herb dish
Come with the Verb Stick, the bag of the new tricks
Stronger than ever, my intent of the universe
Coming of immortals is the strength of the verse
That's the power
song performed by by X-Clan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Selfe's Grammar: a sonnet in the style of George Herbert
O Lord: my dearmost Selfe – why need I name Thee?
Whom I need not call - forever near;
O Lord: my wholest Selfe – what grammar speak Thee,
who art Word and Speech, and Mouth and Ear;
Thou art not circumscribed by any Noun,
that any but Thyself hath speech to say;
nor Pronoun Thou – who art both I and Thee
and He and She and every It and They;
All Verbs Thou art; and every verb, Thy act;
and yet, Thy Stillness knows no verb that moves;
no Adjective may praise Thee as Thou art;
no Adverb tell how Thy Love constant proves;
O Lord, my whole dear Selfe: my silent prayer
may speak the louder; Thy sweet Stillness share.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Write, Write, Write
Write in the language you dream in.
But this had never made sense
as far as I remember, I’ve never dreamt in nouns and verbs,
but always in huge boxes,
or dark abandoned malls,
or long flights
where my slippers are lost and my baggage,
missing.
Perhaps i should write in the language
that wakes me
That keeps me restless,
that feeds my hunger,
that reminds me that
i am alive.
it’s a matter of hearing
the heartbeat of one’s words
I can’t wait for more writers to write
Perhaps if the work of critics and teachers
will eventually bear fruit,
it will not be too far off that the streets of my town
will one day be filled again
with the lyrical lilt of my own language
I also can’t blame those
who continue to write in English
and live
in English
which is easy to dismiss as snooty
and elitist,
and alien—
even if it is the same village street,
the same home
that is being woven into words.
A tongue only becomes alien
when we keep it at the gate,
at the door.
The stranger is only as strange
as when we do not know his name,
and he does not know ours.
the job of the writer is not really
to master his language,
but to make it his own.
Not just to study its syntax
and shape but
to invite it into his home.
To kidnap bored English from the court offices
and banks
and schools,
and bring it to our beautiful messy rooms.
To tell it our stories,
whisper into its ear
our dreams,
and if the timing is right,
and the intention is clear,
then to show it our hearts
and we’ll begin to write.
Really really write.
Without guilt.
* reflections by L.L. YPIL
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love more Love
Forget the tranquil long song
Designed to feel
From certain beat
That is gone
And demand more for what
You have missed
Where lyric verbs
Like I love you and I love you not
Cannot be retained by tears
But rather by that simplest remembrance
Of war and death
The last conjunctions of a great heart
Only the wounded bird should be
Able to hold all.
poem by George the Great VIII
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poets Mind
In a poets mind,
silence has stopped chatter,
traffic noise, childish play.
A hum from a distance sings,
words begin to congregate.
Choosing nouns, verbs and
adjectives, words collected
from the gentle light…..
Lines of tenderness and love
merge into a lovers pledge.
Music for her mind,
sonnet of love and promise
to adore forevermore.
08-06-2009
Inspired by Anjali Sinha's poem Words
poem by Bob Blackwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!