When I drink wine,
I'm French, Italian, Spanish.
, German...I'm polyglot...!
I wanted for the Stones,
the sympathy that for
Beatles always had,
I could never...!
Poetry a figurative sense is one in which words or expressions acquire meanings that depend on their context of use. The literal sense is used to give words the objective meaning they have...
Poetry therefore exists when it exists
figure of speech... metaphor, metonymy etc. SO POETRY IS NOT WRITTEN TO AGREE OR NOT,IS to READ, understand, APPRECIATE... READ, READ a lot OF POETRY !
Poetry is intended for restlessness,
too much sweetness drives away poetry...
You can be pregnant with ideas,
stocked with what is benefit and write
emotionally without stoppage,
but the unusual metaphor is missing...
to the one that outlines the poetry...
Behold, the singing of joyful countries
it's sad...
The singing of sad countries is content...
There then lies the poetry that reflects
what the soul does not sight...
Poetry is not sympathetic text
in pretty words that appear
always full of emotions... and with
melodramatic sweetness... lack the
high-sounding that the Greeks call Beauty,
when the imagery that materializes the mystery is lacking,
only through metaphor or metonymy,
it subverts the original meaning,
gaining in breadth and beauty...
That and poem with poetry...
The word has to come dressed as a party
the poetry is dressed in the real fantasy
that the figure of speech contains...
Poetry is immaterial...!
THE DEVIL dreads THE INTROVERT
A metonym
of metonymy,
Introvertishly
devilish.
Never gets
word famish,
eruption of moods
heated-up in solitary;
Sudden upheaval
wrecks a show.
Even
Devil quivers,
Pampering
the introvert,
Mute saturation
of ambiance, even
Silence shivers;
Seismic shift...
Outspoken
quietness,
Sullenly silent,
Words token,
somberly sulking.
Raise a dust,
strike our pulse...
what's the fuss?
Carnival of fear,
confusion 'ere there,
Word economy
is his human anatomy.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© March 2021.
HURT HIM TO SAVE HIM
Secret tip
nations keep
lies deep
than relationship.
Lips zip,
wise plot,
tough gut
but...
fear not,
I KNOW,
though
red hot
dark pot
like your
man hunt
till your
man's hurt.
If he know
let him go.
"A penny
or shreddy
info is
worth lives",
they thought.
Watch alot
then deploy
and enjoy
word economy
like metonymy.
'cos enemy?
Eyes everywhere,
wall's ear,
See out here
the C.I.A
all day
mastermind,
search and
unfailingly find.
With eyes?
A device!
You must
disconnect
to later
connect;
It's better!
Good enough.
Hurt ur love
to save him,
not save him
to hurt him
else they'll
get him
at will.
VickWizzy.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Copyright © May 14th, 2020.
1. Always aspiring to authentic answers
2. Belief begins, only to end
3. Calls the crow, 'never, to'
4. Drifting like October leaves
5. Falling upwards, death is alive
6. Gargling, bleating, cawing birth
7. Haul the young into the hall
8. Jaded cribs reluctantly nurse
9. Lemon-sour hope gently sweetened
10. May's pastel caress heals yesterday's recall
11. Once, seasons ... now regrown faith
12. Promises to breach, ideas to rebuild
13. Returning the world not unreal, the
14. White Witch of Amherst guiding through
15. Young hearts revive again.
for A Litany of Poetry Devices contest
1. alliteration 2. internal rhyme 3. allusion 4. simile 5. oxymoron 6. onomatopoeia 7. homphone 8. personification 9. metaphor 10. assonance 11. ellipsis 12. antithesis 13. litote 14. metonymy 15. synecdoche
also written in ABC form.
They were to meet in middle of the mall
He clearly misunderstood... his downfall
If there had been some writing on the wall
This fight might not have happened at all
Unsure of what to wear or where to look
It's important to give more than he took
He seemed caught like a fish on a hook
His life story could be a comic book
He remembered everything that he could
Wanting to make amends for this, he would
Deep in his heart of hearts he knew he should
Would giving her the moon do any good?
Not his best day, if you know what I mean
Not a first mistake or last to be seen
Clearly, he committed to coming clean
He secretly wished to be somewhere serene
August 22, 2018
Litany of Poetic Devices
By Line Gauthier
1. Consonance;
2. Oxymoron;
3. Truism;
4. Internal Rhyme;
5. Homophones;
6. Idiom;
7. Simile;
8. Metaphor;
9. Tautology;
10. Hyperbaton;
11. Metonymy;
12. Rhetoric Question;
13. Innuendo;
14. Aphorism;
15. Alliteration;
16. Euphony
It has been said “that the pen is mightier than the sword”. If this be true then I hereby proclaim an end to the savagery of war throughout the world and that all weapons of mass destruction be silenced from this day forward. However, if the saying is but a metonymy and my words are but dust in the wind I would call upon all those who write throughout this world to put pen to paper and create a dust storm of such magnitude that it blinds those that would bear arms of death and destruction for use against their fellow man.
i read indulgence mid scripted words
breaking all the rules and then some,
what be greater than gutting & swallowing
uttermost concentration of language
critically consummated or otherwise,
communing within written ideologies
something profoundly reverent or
perhaps deliberate liberating nonsense,
nonetheless commonsensical compunction to
the discerning foresightedness of poets
& enduring escape artists 'tween psyche's
hallucinations & declarations
about analytically anomalous analgesics
and mellisonant melancholy metonymy,
rising above the fray of brutally alliterated
annotations fragmenting & fracturing dimensions,
steel blades sharpening anthologies' imperfect isms
inferring resoluteness 'tween deductive reasoning,
willing exposure imparting quintessential bollocks
literally grasping mercilessly melded metaphors
courageous enough to virtually be aptly bled,
plunged beneath swords' inky touchstones
My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn
My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer my mistress did entrance
With my prose she did forthrightly dispose
Each short she did subsequently abort
Each regaling verse did prudently disburse
Each perforated line truncated with lackluster shine
Each conjured sentence only increased my penance
Each glamorous byline she did smugly decline
Each dilated phrase with a bridling border did encase
Each gilded stanza a burnished extravaganza yielding no artful bonanza
Each tethered word coagulated into a stolid curd
Each bloated quote sunk my creative float deeper in the moat
Each lofty rhyme labeled too smarmy and sublime
My metric time no longer struck a concordant chime
Each literary device neatly spliced would not even a novice entice
Each repetitive, stagnant metaphor made my verse a bore
Each strained, tortured simile engendered no empathy
Each supplanted metonymy a shock wave lobotomy
When we talk, he calls me Gal
and it always warms my heart
Especially when we're on the phone
cuz we're so far apart
I've never told him this
how much it means to me
That no one else has ever
used this warm metonymy
So tenacious all his life
In his ways he's very set
No matter what he does
It's right, on that you can bet
Do what you think is right
To us he's always told
Our decisions were always backed
My father's loyalty is GOLD
I hope he knows I love him
I tell him every time we speak
Don't ever quit calling me Gal
And I'll always kiss your cheek