Broken Verbs and Writers Block
I coddle these Broken Verbs
hold them to light
to see if they will move me
beyond this adjectival, noun less state.
I am all Metaphor and Simile
swimming in Transitivity;
in my Pluperfectness.
My Gerunds
and Participles dangle
my Clauses fragment;
when I speak
I know only Dark Words
and Raven Poems.
Today I am tense;
less.
My Grammar is broken
my etiology's vague
and my words
have different and even
contradictory meanings.
I am reading the dictionary-
definition of Happiness;
it is confusing;
and depressing.
Look it up you will see.
So here now
I construct
Ist person sentences
to be
a step beyond
what Grammar I am today.
And each time I get
to the very last Clause
and the Period end
of the day.
Relieved.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Related quotes
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
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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
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Use Of Time
with the words staying me slow
the verbs that just don't flow
confusing use of time
partial stoning of the heart
waiting for something to start
confusing use of time
but the trying again
makes me think it's all gonna end
confusing use of time
but everytime i turn the volume down
all that i hear is the deafing sound
of your hearts pound
chorus
today
song performed by by 311 from Transistor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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It is a New Day
Today is a new day
today is a new life
today, yes today is a special day
it never has occurred before
the sun light cast on today is ancient
the words I will speak will be for the first time, today
The air I breath is new today
the aches are new as well
the feelings are new today
my cats meow is new today
todays lunch I have is new
the thoughts I think are new today
the life I live today is new
indeed today is a new day
poem by Bullion Grey
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Some Silence, Some Words
Today somewhere a mirror broke
And a music of end splashed in the pages of time,
Someone lost his meanings in the broken mirror..
And an unending silence flowed
Many things happen silently, , ,
How the silent weeping of the lost meaning wander in the depth of the night, , ,
I unveil the sea of darkness...i find only silence
And the music of the end keeps on splashing around
Life is all about some silence and some words…
Far away a poet was looking for words, .
And a poem was seeking for its understanding, ,
for the heart where words dwell with meanings, ,
As long as they both were away everything was all right...
And when they met, , ,
the poet lamented on the end of words of the poem, , ,
and the poem on the unending silence of the poet, , , , ,
poems are not about understanding....
poet is not about words, , , ,
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
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Love's Grammar Book
I love you.
That's it, really.
all there is to say.
sums it up.
in a nutshell.
the long and the short of it.
the be-all and the end-all.
I know what I mean;
you know what I mean.
more or less.
we know what I mean.
most of the time.
But though love's sometimes
best defined by silence
it may be good
to say a few good words
since you, and love, have taught me
love's grammar-book:
I love 'love'.
though love as noun is difficult to define.
I love love as an adjective:
love's.. just lovely, isn't it?
But most of all
I love love as verb.
and this I know:
this my love's active voice:
I love. (you) .
I loved you. How well I remember.
I have loved you. I'm so grateful for that.
I shall love you. That I promise.
and when all is done, I'll be proud to remember that
I shall have loved you;
and that
we shall have loved.
And in love's passive voice,
I'm so blessed that
I am loved;
rejoice in the hope that
I shall be loved
and promise that
you shall be loved.
I'll always be blessed that
I have been loved.
and that I can say
you shall have been loved (forever) .
Then there are love's moods
as they're called in grammar:
the indicative - I love you; do you love me?
the exciting imperative mood:
'Love me, do - I promise I'll be true...' or better,
'Love me! Now! ';
the subjunctive mood
which is rather subtler in other languages:
'Don't leave me, please';
'May we love each other till we die...';
'If only you were to love me
as much as I love you..'
And then, those other parts of speech
that few of us get around to sorting out
but all lurking there under 'amo'
in the Latin grammar-book of love:
The perfect infinitive:
'It is better - to have loved - and lost - than
not -to have loved -at all';
that great feeling
called future infinitive:
to be about to love;
and that dizzy future infinitive passive:
to be about to be loved;
the gerund:
'Oh the loving and the kissing
and the kissing and the loving...';
that cautious supine:
'in order to love...';
the passive imperative -
the parents' wish (with qualifications) :
'let her be loved'...
and that loaded gerundive:
'fit to be loved'...
All of which, I hope, leaves you
in that state curiously undefined
by grammar -
a sort of active gerundive:
'fit to love' - to love
love's grammar-book
in full
for love conquers all, it's said,
even a hatred of grammar.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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
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Today I will read
Tap me not on my shoulder
Today I will read
For there is the urgent need
to explore words being soldered
into blissful compact sentences
as my reading commences
Today I will read
In no chronological order
something immoderately ordinary
Consulting the Oxford dictionary
If and when necessary
Today I will read
Knowledge is power and wisdom
a substitute for boredom
Knowledge is a curse
when words used tend to slip off course
In moments of seeking
the understanding of definitions
I will scamper through publications
of columns in newspapers
Absorb the skeptical illustrations
Learn more about this nation
As I feed my own imagination
Today I will read
a book or a novel
I will read articles
and the contents of scripts
doing my research while I search
for the truth
even if its minute
Today I will read
Separating quality from quantity
as I delve into topics
in my encyclopedia
Tap me not on my shoulder
whether you are younger or older
For Today I will read
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A Language Scrum
It was a gathering of the Metaphors
who likened all things
to all other things
never identifying Essences;
leaving nothing as the core..
Similes arrived stating triumphantly that
they were superior to the merely metaphoric
and especially to the Gerunds.
The Nouns were enraged
claiming that they were the origins of things named
and all that could be named.
They all held the Dangling Participle in contempt
whose cohorts hung at the end of the table
speaking in sentences fragmenting.
The Pluperfect laid claim to wedding the Past
and Present
and to having had given birth to Language.
The Action Verbs demurred claiming that all history
depended upon them and their meanings and consequences.
'We are action' they said
'you are all after-thoughts and musings.'
So it was the Poetry Slam
the battle of the Language Parts
cogitating on sentences
and what they mean.
Metaphor opened saying 'poetry is contest-
a battle of words in the arena of created meaning-
designed to feed the brain, open the mind;
give sight to the blind.'
'We are all part of a wagon wheel
and each of us has only a spoken
truth.
'Yes' Simile said 'we are all like angry rose buds
trying to bloom.
Verbatim declared that all Poetry
was based on faith and faith alone.
Anything else was Untruth.
Gerund hung back claiming all meaning is hidden by
hidden meaning and that clarity was mystical.
So in the scrum, no one was able to find the ball.
And then they all went home.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Lately! ! !
I ´m insupportable! ! ! !
Reading, running,
Playing, crying
Loving! ! ! !
Un-pleasant person
She reads excessively (he says)
More still Runs (she makes)
And loves! (they want) ......
I love! ! ! !
yes!
The words, all the peoples!
Now that I can
I love until the postman!
And I also joke and when I fall down
I cry!
Des-honest person, She is!
She did not loved me?
She did not lived only for me?
She did not run only for me?
Insensible this woman!
Do you want to know something?
I discovered that I don't love the prepositions!
Also to the pronoums!
The personal are the worse ones!
Better to be without.
poor of connections but free! !
Only the verbs, the gerunds, the past participle......
AH! !
And pronouns? ? ? ? ?
Only
You and I!
Revolutionary person!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Ninja Shuriken
Now the time
is come. For us
ninja to fight.
Just because the Samurai
are strong, doesn't mean we're not
Stronger. Ninja are fast and sneaky. We
have abilities that would blow your mind.
Unless of course, you know our ways. We are
real in every way. You just got to believe
in us. You got to
know, that we're strong. Stronger than the Samurai.
Enjoy watching the fight. For the
ninja has this battle won. Samurai will be defeated.
________________________________ __________
Authors Note: I know the grammar part for the now the time is come is wrong. Cuz is should be are and I'd prefer it that way but This is an acrostic poem and I couldn't think up a sentence for I to go along with the story, so I used wrong grammar for it. Trust me, I didn't want to do that but I did. Guess it's a good thing that grammar ain't all that important when it comes to poetry. That's what my teacher said and I believe her. She did go to college and Idc what anyone else says about my grammar on here. My teacher said grammar ain't that important when it comes to poetry/poems and so I'm gonna listen to her.
If you read down, it says ninja shuriken.
poem by Ninja Soul
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Hiding Emotion in Metaphors
I'm sitting here wondering
can i hide my emotion through words
writing in metaphors
when really its all plain
I'm broken
easy enough to say
but what does it mean
I'm in pieces
i don't work anymore
I'm broken
who says that to explain emotion
except a poet
finding metaphor for emotion
does it mean I'm sad, yes
does it mean I'm torn, yes
what does torn mean
torn like an old rug
torn like a dollar bill
ripped to shreds, broken
who needs a metaphor to explain emotion
when its laid out in front of everyone
my eyes are swollen
my body is bruised
my words are silent
my smile is fake
its all plain and simple
laid out like a flashing sign
i am broken
even though my emotions are plain
i still have to explain through metaphors
because people don't look for a simple answer
they look for the secrets people tell
is she holding back tears
is her smile today real
I'm broken
but people don't look to see me
they look to find emotion
encoded in this poem
hiding my feelings
in this metaphorical language
because people don't look
i am broken
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
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Game of Nowhere
Some play the game of nowhere
Like they were in dark sea
Swimming from here to there
Inside and outside to be
Feelings of every pain drifting
Going so endlessly on
Black to the light there shifting
Until the sunshine is gone
Love is deep end touch
Saying but even more thinking
Nothing to give as much
But when you are from it sinking
Heart to be felt and broken
Words that are never to speak
Some are better not spoken
Only make meanings too weak
I'm now deep deep inside
Lonely and much torn apart
Where shadows of arrows hide
Inside a broken down heart
Empty is now all this space
That is sinking me into deep
Love touch and its many ways
Seems now from another leap
Some play the game of nowhere
Like they were in dark sea
Swimming from here to there
Inside and outside to be
Feelings of every pain drifting
Going so endlessly on
Black to the light there shifting
Until the sunshine is gone
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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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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Sonnet 63: Oh Grammar Rules
Oh grammar rules, oh now your virtues show
So children still read you with awefull eyes,
As my young dove may in your precepts wise
Her grant to me, by her own virtue know.
For late, with heart most high, with eyes most low,
I crav'd the thing which ever she denies:
She, lightning Love, displaying Venus' skies,
Lest once should not be heard, twice said, 'No, No.'
Sing then, my Muse, now Io Paean sing,
Heav'n's envy not at my high triumphing:
But grammar's force with sweet success confirm:
For grammar says (oh this, dear Stella, weigh,)
For grammar says (to grammar who says nay?)
That in one speech two negatives affirm.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Artist as verb
Perhaps the world is more grammatical
than grammar: reveals itself, a little coded –
as codes tempt, when grammar hides
under the guise of schoolmaster:
the artist, say, as verb:
as the verb, to be:
luring the mighty subject
beyond all thought, to become
an object we can all enjoy:
the sculptor, deep within his isness,
praying with his chisel
so that Krishna cannot but consent;
entering this stone;
the poet, listening to
the Word behind all words,
charming the spirit of all things
to make all objects sacred in our eyes;
the musician, listening to the silence,
as through his being, pass
worlds of knowledge beyond all words..
we, as heaven’s verb,
watching as subject, object,
make themselves a mirror for each other.
Grammar could be love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Desire To Know Deep Meanings
Dictionary!
My Dictionary!
Raise it high in your right hand!
We shall use it
we shall use it to explore
to seek out...
the meaning of words
the meaning behind words
the multiple hidden meaning of life.
Amen.
Because modern computer dictionaries
really blow... they do, not, contain,
varied rich poetical meanings of words...
as some of my youthful dictionaries did
stimulating imagination, thought, wonder,
stimulating a desire to know deep meanings...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Everything Is Broken
Broken lines, broken strings, broken threads, broken springs
Broken idols, broken heads, people sleeping in broken beds
Aint no use jivin, aint no use jokin
Everything is broken
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Someone else has just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws, broken buckles, broken laws
Broken bodies, broken bones, broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin
Everything is broken
Every time you leave and go off some place
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken plows, broken treaties, broken vows
Broken pipes, broken tools, people bending broken rules
Hound dog howlin, bullfrog croakin
Everything is broken
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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