Dramatic Verse Poems | Dramatic Verse Examples

When the Language Merge** I walked into Bobby Department Store and yelled, “Where are the Jamaicans and Barbadians?” This might sound a little strange to most people; however, it’s that time of year when all the languages and dialects merge, accompanied by the authentic accents from their respective places. Plus, there's always a bit of rudeness...

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. yesss 'tiz 'bout her ...

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Your flesh was never warmer than my passion, a flame more intense than you could ever bear. My love for writing poetry is my secret weapon. While I may not claim to be gifted My identity is Black, and words have always motivated me. I can string them together easily, but making them meaningful? That’s...

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I often reflect on the character of certain individuals. The character I'm referring to, in a dictionary sense, is not the same as the characters in my book. Writing reveals a person's character like nothing else. The characters in my poems are never about me; they reflect my willingness to come to terms with them. For...

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Two formidable contenders are battling for the crown, each making grand promises. Where do we go wrong? What wisdom does our Bible impart about speaking in tongues? It's a reality that for one to win, another must lose; that’s the essence of this game change. We know that nothing will ever be the same again. ...

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I. The Pastor’s Hand At dawn’s brittle cusp— he climbs, each step a nail in time’s coffin breath ragged a Psalm torn mid-hymn. The rope tastes of incense and myrrh— Liberty’s fracture braided through its fibers a wound that never quite...

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In ghostly white of midnight as sky- shadows trace gossamer streaks , I become a recluse, losing tracks of stars' grave hues and the flavor of meadows in snow grows bitter...the bronze gate reeking of metal cold, again --frozen like my rusty, numb thoughts. Must I remember how they were slain? The wails come to haunt those Godforsaken eves when the lane...

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Poetry is my passion, Empathy is part of my job; it is a deliberate choice. We just must tell the stories of others Who can’t defend themselves? He is an unpopular character, this old man, Who sits and draws cartoon characters Of all his childhood abusers, While blasting their names....

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When Hell Is Full** Sweet memories fade like old Navy clothing, leaving an unpleasant taste in my mouth— like a can of Grace corned beef with stale onions, drizzled with oil; it was tolerable at the time. Years have passed, yet those thoughts still send chills down my spine. I utterly...

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A list of tasks to accomplish before I embrace love again: I envision my mind wandering through expansive fields where patches of grass lie brown. A single wildflower stands out among the scattered pebbles beneath my feet. Memories linger, taunting me alongside the bare trees with their bent trunks. A cool breeze brushes against my face;...

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**Ginger Shots** Today, of all days, I find myself dividing my tears into sections. With each moment, each tear, and each snuffle I make, the paper tissues crumble, showing signs of the mishaps in life that surely cannot be mended. Yesterday was your birthday, and today is my revelation about life—my life. Lately, it seems I’ve...

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**Cover-Ups** The Cardinals will sing, but let’s confront the truth behind it all. We deceive ourselves, but a higher power knows the reality of these situations: makeup and the cover-ups. The Cardinals' song may be beautiful, yet the raven never returned, while the dove came back, never forgetting what it had seen. It whistles a tune...

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I feel life breaking a glass, any glass Or screaming at anyone with or without cause For now, my breath and tears find no rest, Seething on a bomb of fury, time claims a place For rage piercing through my gut too deep... I never knew he has gone beyond the stars My soul hemorrhaged, my innocence vandalized-- Please tell me this...

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Leather bound thoughts, tied on pages, whispering to me of each day's beginnings This sheet peels heart's despair Creeping on bondage of words not spoken that in the light, a yearning arises Spilling yarns knitted but unraveled- Time's remembrances awaken and heave Soaking memories on the earmarks of carbon To learn that passages with bleeding lines Never open to rage...

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A lady at a coffee shop was sobbing. Another lady, a Good Samaritan, said gently: May I be of help, madam?” “Not really,” she said, “it’s really nothing. My husband...an accident...this morning, fatal, and finally.” “Oh, I am so sorry,” said the lady offering her sympathy hoping she might lessen the lady’s grief. “Oh please, don’t be. My tears...

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