En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A War of Words

There is a war here;
a war among the Words
where Meaning itself
is often
wounded or murdered,

taken from the Dictionary Battlefield
and buried in Arcane Cemetery,

or kept alive
twisted to opposite intents
or degraded,
or marginalized
or worse
sanitized by the French.

There is a War going on
at all times-
the War of the Words.

Bad is bad one day
and Traitorized
becomes Good the next day;

where Word Soldiers
don't know
who is who
what things mean
or who is on what side.

Then the French-
always the French-
arrive
with cleansing sticks
to pummel Words
and Meaning
to Haut Regarde!

Quivering, especially the Nouns
comply
and line up all the Foreign Words
march them to the border
ejecting them.

Webster's International
empanels the Word Police
who decide
what Words are Real
and which ones will be released
or serve time
in Archaic Jail.

So many Baby Words
seeking to get born
are exposed to the elements
unless
they are vouched for by the
Select Ones
who can rescue them
by uttering:
'You child
once appeared
in the Mouth
of the Learned.'

Brigades and Battalions
march each day
each time,
each year,
such that
Language itself
can become Confounded
and Previous Speakers
cannot understand Current Ones.

Parents vowel and separate
from their own children
whose Words
are foreign ones
Parents have never heard.

No mercy in this war:
non-speakers
not with the latest Word
are consigned
to Oblivion
where all their utterances
over time
make no sense;
uncomprehended
by those who have
donned
new
shiny
Word Suits
and carry batons.
.
Left behind
the Discarded Ones;
all marching
to Shakespeare's Grave
to complain;

whose haunting
voice from below intones
'Nothing Can Be Done'
now leave me alone.'

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The f word and me

The other day we discussed reasons
why people use
the magical f word.

a Young woman is of the opinion
that it’s because of a lack of imperfect language,
where a person’s vocabulary
lacks other words to use.

I think that there are many more other reasons
to slip in everywhere
and that vocabulary
has very little
or nothing to do with it.

One thing that can incite it
is exposure,
where people hear it
hundreds of times
every day
like in an army.

Subsequently without intention
it becomes part of your conversation
and your own vocabulary,
without drawing any attention
with yourself.

The word f is a power word
that give colour intensity
to the meanings of other words
and it can underline, emphasize
or lift some out.

You can also use it as a word
that has many meanings
and use it like a good shifting spanner
that shift for meaning values.

This word can also
be almost any word type
that gives bigger power
to other words used with it.

The thing that really matters
what others read
in the meaning of my words
and if I loose integrity by using it.

There are times
my mother wants to catch a fit
when I use the f word
and not from the meaning
of my words,

but from the negative context
that can be drawn with the word
and the easy transfer
of the word on children that hear my dialogue.

[With thanks to Skymaster, whose article inspired this poem.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning

Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words

as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning

but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words

when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning

and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words

you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…

poem by Gert Strydom
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I Like To Think That All These Are But A Game Of Words

that is the impression from the beginning
when i started to scribble
word, and more words, i assured her that they do not
mean anything at all just
words, and words and more words

that even a sunflower wilting and spreading all the seed on her feet
are nothing too but words and more words
nothing to grow nothing to expect like a sprouting something

thus my loneliness, i again assure here, is nothing but a word
my way of taking solitude on the other side to save myself
is another word, and she of course, did not believe me saying

there is more to these words, there is fire in them and i see you burning
there is the sun inside them and the letters glow and the

there is smoke rising from the heads of vowels
from the nonspeaking consonants

i keep hiding the flowers
i bury those that are alive in the silence of my pretensions

until one day she grips me like she is a knife wanting to stab me
and then she stabbed me right in my throat and there i bleed

words, words, and more words coming from the slit
bloody words, and she was convinced, until death, ... and then i vanish.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Untitled 15

there is a mountain of words
an ocean of words
a continent of words

there is a rain of words
a flood of words
a river of words and true to their being words

they also disintegrate as syllables
on the other hand some form the clauses
conditions and terms
some make sentences and paragraphs

a world of words full of words
i am not a word and i am buried in a mountain of words
a sea of words i drown
a continent of words i am condemned to walk all the days of my life

too may words my ears do not listen anymore.
my eyes do not like to read anymore.

i like something not having to do with words.
what about a touch? what about a picture?
what about a kiss?

why don't people just make love without saying a word?
let us start touching the hearts of people
to avoid this war of words that lead us to our own perdition.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words of Fire

Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
With the force of a steam train,
With the speed of a bullet,
You hit me.

You knocked me off my high horse,
Upon the ground I lay,
Unable to move,
Such is the power of your word,
You hit me.

When first I read your word,
Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
The threat of culpable damnation,
The gift of undeserved salvation.

You are the living Word,
The only word,
Who was,
Who is,
Who is to come.

Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
Words of Eternity,
Words of Fire,
That burn within my heart.

From my youth,
My hair now grey,
Those words of Fire,
Those words of Power,
My life maintained.

poem by Steven Reeve
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The Uselessness In Arguing About The Proper Use Of Words

those that discuss much about words
and how properly they must be used
how grammar is murdered and
sentences dis-edified must have no talent
to pursue into
actual use without complaint as to what
must be and could have been

in fact words are not pillars
where buildings stand and become castles
words in truth only serve within that curve
beyond this fence
and walls
words cannot go over and
penetrate

those that you think and remember
and keep forever
no word has ever conquered
sometimes
mouth-less it cannot utter
speechless in air
unrecognizable anymore in the word of those
unspoken

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words

So many words are there in our speech,
they can be very poor, they can be rich.
No one can be indifferent to their meaning
as they are alive and express your feeling.
Spoken word is not just a sound,
it can’t be found on the ground,
it’s always in your head, sometimes in your soul.
When it is spoken it becomes a parole.
A word is an energy of your spirit,
it was presented to you by God, it’s His merit.
A word is a tool of communication,
A word is a source of information.
“A word spoken is past recalling”.
Strolling all around it can’t be found,
returned back and kept in your sack.
“The pen is mightier than the sword”,
that was told about a written word.
Words, words, words………………
They are love and seduction,
each one with a certain function.
They are wonders of sin
and songs of education.
They are salvation, temptation, affectation…
They can be an executioner,
they can be the owner of a whiner.
A word can be a treatment,
It helps when you are ill.
A kind word is better than a pill.
But…there are words that just kill.
They sound like a horrible drill.
Words, words, words…………
They are triumph and defeat,
They can be pleasant and sweet.
At the end of my message
I would like everyone to acknowledge:
Each word has a strength
and it doesn’t depend on its length.
So, think before saying a word,
as it is quite well heard even by walls,
it touches someone’s soul,
it shouldn’t be a wicked foul.
“Better the foot to slip than the tongue”.
And… there is no exception for the young.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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French, The Language Of Love

French, the Language of Love.

Darling, speak French to me when we make love, wicked words
I don’t understand, but have a whispering meaning of delight.
I stand before you with salutial erection, a soldier of love ready
to sacrifice myself for your subterranean pleasure.
Your wishes have to be expressed in French or the steed’s chase
will not react with proper force, It will think it’s time to go back
into the stable, hanging about, wondering what went wrong.
At the subway in Paris I was in the way of a woman who wanted
to exit, she swore at me, thinking it were words of love, I kissed
her and was arrested. But released, though when they understood
I was a foreigner, lost in the baffling ways of the French idiom.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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An Un Anyone?

Careful
there are Nouns here
which innocently
can
contain your life.

Were it not for 'Un'
all would be lost.

So many of our utterances
not only restrain the brain
but prevent
emphatically
new things being said.

Language is a universe
in which you cannot be understood
unless you already agree
with its assumptions and premises

of right, wrong or the good;

A universe in which you cannot conceive
anything really new
because you do not have the language
to express the idea;
a language which does not yet exist.

So the problem is
how to say something new
when you lack a vocabulary
or utterances?

I don't have a final solution
but I do have a start:
dismantle the current language first
starting with the Noun.

To see the new
we must first Unsee the old-
here my friends lies salvation-
in the utterance Un.

Un-love
Un-done
Un-believe
are an excellent start
because they get us to begin
the unraveling
of that which is wound so tight
that new meaning can't get in.

To continue:
Un isn' t simply the opposite-
it is a pronouncement
a nullification-
a cleaning out-
of that which occupies that noun space
so something new can get in.

Now let's take Un-love.

To Un-love is not to hate
for here
we simply state
we are not in the state of love.

Not so strange,
it happens to all of us.

We simply
one day
fall into Un-love
meaning love has gone away.

Doing this has caused so much misery
yet we have no word or meaning
for what Un-love means.

You see the problem
or should I say the unclarity
that Un-love brings.

If I
one day
suddenly
Un-love you
what does this mean?

Not I suppose

just that love
has gone
but where has it gone to?

In Un-love Land
there is no hate
not even perhaps
indifference
but, perhaps
to an empty space
prompting a need to find new
words, nouns or even vocabularies.

Now you see the problem;
the conundrum here-
no such words currently yet exist-
unless we pause now
to invent new words
to fill that void
and in doing so
create a whole new language
or description of what is meant
by Un-love.

Here my point exactly.
we don't know
what Un-Love means
or its vocabulary
until
some poet
creates the vision
and the new words to
that go with it.

Pointedly:
how do
I now
un-write this poem?
See what I mean?
Can't be done
unless I create
somehow
a vision
and words
to capture it.
Humm,
Consider this the Un-Write.
Maybe it will catch on.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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How The Words Are Taking The Man

let me start with one word
another word takes in another
and they begin to talk to one another
i let the third word go
and they will ask another one
to equalize both sides
they will soon invite other words
until they will make a crowd
and the words get so many
now with mouths and no ears

like the drink the words take the man
and after so man y words have been uttered
you begin to regret every word that got in
so many and now you feel so empty.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words say so much

Words are everywhere you look
in the paper and in the book
we all use them when we speak
in languages like French and Greek.
A baby uses them to speak to it's Mum
that's why she knows it wants talc on it's bum
but teenagers say words we don't understand
and singers sing them like Elvis and Streisand.
People lose their temper and shout and cuss
like when they stub a toe or miss a bus
that's when swear words can be heard
words you won't find in the Times crossword.
Someone who's drunk will talk in a strange way
these words can be heard in pubs on a Saturday
there's short words, and some which are long,
and some words that are nearly always spelt wong.
But that's enough words for now I'll put down my pen,
it's the end, over, ceased, finished, stopped, AMEN.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Lip Service

Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning

poem by P.R. Prosper
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Faculty

Sometimes it seems so hard to work out the words,
and then again it seems not hard at all. Just write,
is as simple as that. There are times i can't seem to
work the words, other times the words come up
bubbling in my head with character and meaning.
At times i feel challenged by other writers, and i
begging to doubt my ability to work the words,
i simple read another writer and then i know i have
nothing to be worry about. I understand then that my
contest is with myself and not with other writers.
We all think about the same things, because once
in our life’s we all go through the same situations.
We all have the brain to create anything in our heads.
There’s nothing that i can't do if i focus and if i
don't focus; “you see” this word- focus is meaningful
in some ways, we need the focus, but in poetry we
need more the fantasy in our thoughts, the meaning
to our words, focusing can be important, but if your
head is not in the mood, there’s not going to be any
words bubbling up, even though you don’t need it so
much, because you can create a poem out of anything.
There’s one thing about writing, and reading poetry,
understanding the meaning behind the words.
Every word or phrase has a meaning behind, this is
where readers need to understand; for example-if i'm
drinking away my sorrows, it can mean, crying my
heart out, it can mean, i need to forget, it can mean,
a big hangover, it can mean, sleeping out in the porch,
it can mean, forgetting all you did last night; how many
things out of a phrase. Right know I would just like
to be in my cabin and sit right in front of the fire-place
with a bottle of wine and enjoy my pastoral life while
i write, amazing things.

poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Live In A Hiding Place

There are times that I should try,
To be so much more alive
But if time was right then I would be with you again
Or do you worry that I try to avoid the point
And then deny
The time I spent deciding it was you again
It's when I live in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
(That's not hidden now)
I'm safe in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
Think about meaning more as an after word
As in afterward
I return but don't remain,
I'm impatient for a reason
To complain about winter,
Making me see through again
Or is it your damaged reply,
That makes me realize that
The more I try
The less that plans will help me comprehend again
So I live in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
(That's not hidden now)
I'm safe in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I live in a hiding place
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
You think about meaning more as an after word
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
You think about meaning more as an after word
As in afterward

song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Value Of Words

Words what value words
when spoken in haste
what is their worth
words spat in spite
or an envious game
false words meaningless
what value words

a trusting word
honest and open speaks
volumes when listen to
without agenda given
with care and thought
placed into its being
what becomes its worth

words in variety
of context and meaning
fill blank spaces
where sometimes silence
is a more welcome sound
where nothing is better said
words have a value
consider their worth

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Words Again

Thoughts can be words, can be flowers that burgeon like words,
Thunders that are right in the middle of happiness,
Ones that make talk with books and with all speaking sense.

The sounds are not anywhere near us,
Yet the word can believe in living free,
Where actions cannot, and nor can thoughts necessarily.

We work on the words of leaders like listening is,
When speech is hazardous and non-wrong,
And liars can speak offensively, like a long long wrong.

Speech is therefore recommended in the form of words,
Of dementia I give word not or word obvious,
But of sound advice for any goodness to come and seize.

Deceased are the word-lovers as much as fences are put up,
As if the sea is given a status that delves too deep
Of words, and it is funny how many words that there are.

poem by Naveed Akram
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He's A Man of His Word

He contemplates life
In general who people are
Or what things are
What is it all about?

He likes to learn
From those of us
With knowledge
Of the here and now
And of the past

He taps away
At his keyboard
As he reads
As he writes
And discovered
To his knowledge
That it helps him
To be a better man

His words are immaculate
Even words I've never heard
But when he writes his poetry
It has meaning to each word

The man is so humble
On what he writes
On what he feels
And on how he preserves others
And their words

I bow to thee Kevin Patrick
Who is a man?
Of his every word

poem by Kaila George
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A Four-letter Word

His name is Gus
and boy can he cuss.
He knows every four-letter word.

When he gets mad
just like his dad
profanities are all he ever heard.

His voice gets real loud
in the midst of a crowd
and each time it occurred

People would stare
and he didn't even care.
His sensitivity is not even stirred.

Until one day
he hears his son say
four-letter words he has heard.

It shocks him yo hear
these words very clear
from a 4-year old which is absurd.

And so on this day
he vows never to say
another four-letter word.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Each little word

Each little word
~
Words said in haste
Angry little words
Looking to vent emotion
Shouting, screaming
Get it out, set it free
Then repent later on
Wondering why what was said
Was said anyway
Untrusting words
Regretful sounding
Sought only to attack
Or defend something, someone
They have no thought
No relevance behind them
Spat with venom
Into the world, a page
Let them rest, wash away
Forget them all
Each little word
Apologetic at times
Those words said in haste
Are words wasted

poem by Matthew Holloway
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i teach my child by G. Abad

I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.

II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,

But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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