language
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I have never seen an ugly flowerFlowers are always full of grandeurFlowers are known to be beautifulAll the time, that's stupendously wonderfulAll flowers speak a beautiful language
I love; I really love your voice and your dictionRecite me a poem in an unknown languageI don't give a darn about the pronunciationUndress the words; I love them when they're naked.
I’ll lead you to the pool
Undress you for your somber dive
Bid you prayers and warnings
Love on my breath, our lips
And you dip beneath the stillness
He can curse up a stormmake a sailor blushFoul blue languagespewed out in a gushCould strip paint cleanoff a battleshipExponentially worse ifyou give him any lipRambling in sincerity's guise
Bitter nothing passed these lips
as words poured towards you in silent riffs.
A melody of sour times
the money good s, the smell of muscidimes
Serene breezes flow through us
This is the common sap
of humanity's tree.
It flows within us all.
A shared communion
enabler and advancer
lifting us above our animal origins.
Language- the magical gift of mankind,
Unity in Diversity
Separation.
Rampantly ruling the modern world.
Black.
White.
Muslim.
Christian.
Countless wars waged on misconceptions and prejudices.
Raibh saol macánta
Bhí cónaí orainn, throid muid. Grá againn.
Ní raibh sé éasca, ach ba linne é
Linne
Now, it's theirs
We speak their language
We had to, they said, or we'll be punished
I love poetry for its blank spaces,
for its constant wondering
and the shape of the words on a page.
For different reasons
than why I love math.
The pilot says
We're landing in thirty minutes
thirty minutes to prepare
for a new land
a new language
new people.
Should I be excited
or scared?
I left my friends,
family,
Möchten Sie mit uns ins Kino kommen?
Oh shit.
I had hurdled in a piece of metal
35,000 miles above the warm caress of the Earth's surface,
landed on unknown terrain,
In your heart's
native tongue
tell me you love me
So that I am forced to
learn the language
of your heart
I want to speak one more Language
That everybody can easily speak
Same as our food and the beverage
If not, it means, we are weak
All day my mother lives inside a language she does not
Belong in, gets lost in its hard ribs and
Cold vowels, its dusty noise, its angles full of
My eyes were opened by the lessons she revealed
My tongue was moved by her instructions
We were in a dance at every class
It never stopped
Until one day she spun me one last time
beautiful notes drifting through the halls
drifting through the walls
drifting through my mind
drifting so that I can find
as I drift towards the end of my road
Surrounded by voices; I was a <murmur>.
Fear had stolen my lips away,
Locked them in a vault under the sea-
Why?
My mind was confused.
I see you, old f(r)iend
It was about time I came back again
I am crawling on my knees
Begging and pleading for you to love me
Please, I need you
My sweetest amor
Poetry to me is not some
Centipede
-Not just a little
Inconsequential-
But rather a place
Where I can face
Life in silence is indeed no lifeLife in silence is constant strifeLife in silence, suffering is rife
Dear Ani,
Ani ohev at.
Hebrew for "I like you".
I struggle at learning languages,
Illiterate until the end of second grade,
taught myself to read,
taught myself to write.
Dear Language,
You help me:
To describe with words
The colors of sea birds.
To inspire others through verse,
Petite fish in the sea,
little mermaid so lonely,
wallows in watery ennui.
Enough's enough and life is tough.
little mermaid suck it up.
devil says, here's my choice.
Dear first language,
I have written to you today to announce a list of grievances you have committed against me
My Constitution, My Bill of Rights, my haughty Declaration.
1) Devaluing me
It saddens me that we are living in a culture that has drifted far away from morality. Instead they have adopted a fake Hollywood mentality. That claims I am what I do. We have turned are backs on the very notion of truth & embraced lust.
I’m laughing, smiling,
Dancing like I own the world at age seven.
Stars handpicked like strawberries for only my eyes to eat
Nothing could tear me down.
The end seemed close by
Paralyzing and choking
My voice imprisoned
But the beauty of novels
Freed my voice and expression
Traveling and language learning are my passions;So I do it as much as possible.From skimping out on homework to study KoreanTo studying abroad in Japan and Seoul in the summer of '16The excitement never ends
Ink
Quickly the ink spreads, running across the pages.
Making sense within their lines, keeping records through the ages.
You know
We’ve been faced with assignments in middle school
Dealing with subjects like
Reading, Math, history
And writing too
One day you will wake up and find
that you can’t say a word
that you are far too frustrated, too grieved,
too passive, too afraid
You want to punch your mother
but you also want to hold her close
When I was 4, I spoke with a stutter.
My parents were concerned- I, I, I, didn't know I spoke the way I did.
When I, I, I, was 8, my stutter went away.
No, it did not vanish, it made a home in my brain.
Coconut
I refuse to look you in the eyes when you speak to me in spanish.
Instead I watch your lips.
Hello, hola,
Bonjour, ciao,
All are words of salutation.
Goodbye, adios,
Au revoir, ciao,
All are words of valediction.
Ciao and ciao, goodbye and hello?
It swims within variety,
As if it were an ocean,
From sorrow to prosperity,
The image and emotion,
When the words make me cry,
Je pense donc je suis
Vous-voulez que je traduis?
Les voix que sont dans ma tete,
Pourquoi, ne jamais arrete
Parle pour tout le lang
Et jamais, a tout le temps
Yo pienso, luego soy
The same twenty-six scribbles compose every story
I’ve ever fallen in love with.
The same chords write every song
That’s ever touched my soul.
The ability to create something beautiful
A poem's secret language
in itself is that.
A secret language
we all long to understand,
to see the beautiful similies
as they unravel like a present on christmas morning.
I claim you all mine,
arrogant as Manifest Destiny.
—Sandra Cisneros, “You Bring Out the Mexican in Me”
Apostrophe,
Voice
A powerful tool
Made to encourage
Not tear down
Language
Used to communicate
Messages of love
Not for evil humor
When words are exchanged
Some say words are useless
they are inaccurate
idealizations
that never capture the true nuance of meaning
Some say words are useless
A is for adultery and
B is for bitches— the
Cunts that
Don’t know how to keep their legs shut.
Egged on by eager men,
A is for a dirty girl,
Banished from the
Church, a
Devil’s child,
Excluded because of an unlawful
Fuck.
she came
she saw
she took
what she
needed
with soft
hands by
her touch
she then
approached him
he came again
she called
him in
she wanted
it all began in parallel lines at the centre
then a little calculations in the virtual median
proved the proofs during deviations
and would be on constant calculations
parentheses
parenthetical thoughts never expressed
repressed like sexual urges in children too young to know
what sex is
what an urge is
When you're little you won't notice.
Perhaps, they won't even do anything for you to notice.
You'll live your toddler days in sweet unknowing bliss.
But that's only if you're lucky.
They tell me to write what is awesome,
and my fingers tap the keys like a blind spider’s mandibles,
drawing a blank.
No flies tonight.
They tell me to write what is awesome, and Pluto looms on my screen,
Latin is dead by language is everlasting
Passing
From one form to the next.
Changing
Rearanging
In times contingent upon the feelings
of the people that are speaking
i find english
to be a painfully unspecific language
for example,
i can't say i love you
because that doesn't say everything
i need a way to say that i adore your smile and your grimace
We use verbs
And nouns
And crazy adjectives
To express our minds’ sounds
But what if language didn’t exist
And no one could speak
But only act?
Would life be vivid or bleak?
Type.
Just type.
My fingers dangle above the keyboard,
Splashing each word, verb, sentence-
That comes to mind.
The words are like snow to me:
Soft,
Delicate,
And pure.
Yesterday I thought I was dead
My pen was gone
My brush had disappeared
My brain was lost
The clouds were gray
And the sky was black
The rivers were full of blood
Learning a Language is hard
Late in life you realize its too late
Languages do not come easily anymore
Languages fall in line like they are
Everyone uses them
Some wield them like swords
Others like shields
Some to harm
And others to heal
Made gods like them
Or made mortal by them
Some use to trick and deceive
I hear you, I am listening
Every word exiting your mouth, your soul, your very being
I hear you
But hearing is
much different than
understanding.
It started in the blazing heat of a Florida December,
a Puerto Rican madre and a bowl of arroz con grandules.
The beginning.
Rolling r's like hills in Arkansas,
It started in the blazing heat of a Florida December,
a Puerto Rican madre and a bowl of arroz con grandules.
The beginning.
Rolling r's like hills in Arkansas,
The rhythm that moves you,
The words that persuade,
The feelings and emotions
That make you afraid.
Let them all go,
They have nowhere to hide,
They might as well flow,
I.
I am saturated in vivid hues
Painted by my culture,
A life I didn’t choose,
Mere stone formed into a sculpture.
These decisions are not mine,
A stranger’s language spoken,
L-a-n-g-u-a-g-e Loss
Alyza Garcia
A loss in language has cost me my last goodbye
Lost is my native tongue in the process of assimilation
Immersed.
Lost, confused, and unable to communicate.
To express myself,
To express my sense of self.
Two languages, two cultures, two ways of life,
One soul. Stranded.
"I speak Kannada." I tell people sometimes.
"Do you mean Canada?" they ask.
I shake my head, and they laugh.
It's hard to believe in something,
That seems impossible in your eyes.
But when you stop believing,
Creamy smoothness under your fingers
Curled up; cat-like
Minutes ticking by
the world surrounding you has vanished
It's only you; eyes devouring
piece by delicious piece
word by beautiful word
Sitting in the classroom my peers all stare
"Where are you going?"
"How will you get there?"
The questions spin and swirl in my head
I want to go to the places in the books I've read
In this limited mother tongueby which I communicate to you,all I can call it is love.Cannot express through the utteranceof a single word, if a father holdsa daughter in his arms for the first
I won’t say the English language is beautifulyet it’s enormity turns me numbit’s a curse it seems (blessing too)
To be born into a world,
-Who are you?
where your words define you,
-What do you say?
you have no choice over the language you speak.
-How will you write?
Oh, how I envy the ways of courtship In old Victoriana.
Its mannerisms. Its motions. Its subtlety.
The messages, hidden in plain sight
With simple gestures and sleight of hand, so much could be said,
Stuck in my throat,
They wouldn't come out before,
It was hard for me to say,
"Je t'adore"
I've thought it forever,
But it's still extremely new
To say it out loud,
I'm a tiny little fish
In a great big pond
And before you fucking know it,
I'm up and gone.
So many memories,
Not many of them good.
This place was such a joke,
Now I'm off
Language.
Spoken, Written, Sung, Read.
Words that someone from somewhere once said.
Language
is changing all the time.
Learning, evolving, we barely scrape by
but language
It provokes her tongue; it wants to lick her lips, to slither about inside her mouth, nuzzling her cheeks in circles and lightly stroking the backs of her teeth. A sweet breath tingles her taste buds, like a piece of minty, fresh spearmint gum.
ring sings the phone screaming for attention
silence then a greeting I assume is being expressed
what is she saying? I heard my name, thanks for the mention
her switch from perfect english has me impressed
She talks to me
Talks to us
Like we're brats
She walks in with an air of snobiness
and speak with thinly veiled vanity
The first time we met
The first time she met us
I try so hard,
Yet you don't even see.
You call me a failure
Because I can't get above a C.
What is all this swearing
That I hear here at school?
No one cares when someone swears
But I think it's not cool.
People disagree with me,
And swear again to say
A raise in pitch,
A gasp of air,
air rushing through teeth,
its all a language of fighting
No complete translation
Only the exchange of pain in our eyes
The feeling of uselessness
There's a lot of shit that I wish I could say
When I'm sitting in school all day.
Why can't it be like talking to a friend?
Instead of lecturing for days on end.
I wish I could tell them how I feel,
Language is beautiful
But not very useful
No matter what way you say it
They won’t understand
To the core how you really feel
It will sound all fancy and good in French
And mighty and strong in German
Just as the music pours out of an instrument
The messages through all beautiful languages spill
The beauty of the roll of the tongue
onto paper or as an accent in the wrong language
connects us all
lately my grandmother has been practicing her english with the phrase:
no one should have to die with pain and suffering
the pencil marks bow through the pages so earnestly
POWER.
HIS VOICE CARRIED THROUGH THE CROWD.
HATE.
DISTINGUISHABLE IN EVERY SOUND.
AS HE PREACHED
THE LISTENERS BECAME ENCHANTED, HYPNOTIZED.
PULLED DOWN INTO THE WHIRLPOOL
OF HIS WORDS
Thrown away,
Fed to dogs,
Flushed down toilets,
Infected, cancerous,
Tainted, Tarnished, Broken, Rusted
Wasted.
Poetry is a language
spoken by many,
Though only some choose to be
eloquent writters.
I write to illuminate my world.
I write to open my eyes,
to uncover everything in diguise.
I listened to two women in an airport
Speaking the language I plead to know
My mother wrote love letters
While learning a romantic language
My Sunshine, my breath
My Flutters, my walkings
My Idols, my rage
My Rippled water
My Static dreams
My Alive world
My Language
Where have our words gone?
We lack the pen to write
Stop standing for what’s right
No language left to fight
Afraid that we just might
Lose our poet’s sight
We’ve yet to feel contrite
Most say I’m quiet.
Shy even.
Perhaps,
the thoughts and feelings
thriving in my head
just can’t be put into words.
Nor any other distinct form of speech.
Each person has his own language
his way of communicating with others
A new way of expression
Describing one's thoughts
One place
One mind
One me
At one time.
No try
Just do
At this I call
My one school.
I've found a place that makes the break.
It cuts the cake.
Only one place.
Words
Unscrupulous floating isomers
Voluminous connotations
Sewn to fields of intrepid product
Affixed by rindles of ink and lead
Daisy chains of phonemes, morphemes are
Carry the world on their back
Yo mantengo mis palabras cerca de mi corazon
y mi primera idioma es mi amor
pero me gustan todos los idiomas
porque hacen mi vida lleno de color
cuando aprendo idiomas sé comó otra gente vive
Because it has a 26-letter alphabet
making up words that made no sense to me
Because it has so many pronunciations
that confused me even more than I already was
Because it was not my first language
Languages are tight, light, and nice;
They walk among us in day and night.
They are no no no yours,
They are no no no mine;
But they’re wings for everyone to fly,
From ancient place to modern life we fly.
What are words anyway?
If you won’t listen,
can’t listen,
can’t hear above the consumerist cacophony
ringing out your ears
bringing out only the very worst in you, a phony.
Peering into Orion’s Belt, here I am,
little old me,
staring into the eternity of darkness.
Constellations and the unknown wait to be solved,
by the knowledge of our world and the skies above us.
