Quotes about ramble, page 6
The Collective: The Demented Soldier
A fist, a gun, a belligerent soul to ramble;
A soldier sifted from colossal fears
In sanguinary grounds you amble
With valiance often excessively fierce,
A turret you held not to fumble
Amidst the delusion of mocking leers
In times of calamities, steadfast you are
Beguiling yourself with such convictions
Shredded from a destitute war;
Wrath on trigger, crosshair visions
But inside yourself ran the scar—
The bomb that fulminates the turbulent condition
Soldier lost, wield not a rifle
For treachery lingers not in your dominion
This torment in your head maims you a cripple
Armed with loathe of weak constitutions
So let the bastion slumber but do not topple
Vex yourself no more with hostile dispositions
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poem by Norman Santos
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A Wealth of Apologies
I am sorry
I couldn’t make you weak at the knees
I couldn’t say the right words
I couldn’t offer you what you wished
I couldn’t make you blush
I couldn’t make you think of me
I am sorry
I’m not the man you desire
I’m not better and stronger than I appear
I’m not exciting but predictable
I’m not good looking or confident
I’m not anything other than a friend
I am sorry
That I let my heart ramble on
That I talk incessantly about nothing
That I feel jealous and stupid
That I am unable to win your heart
That I am sat here alone
I am sorry
For loving your smile and eyes
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poem by Matthew Holloway
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God's Whispering Breath
Authors: Joyce Hemsley
and John William McGrath III
God's whispering breath is usually heard
whilst gathered in a Temple of Glory.
But no place is finer that a forest of green
as told in this fairy-tale story.
Two young lovers ramble together
deep in the heart of the forest,
they hear only God's whispering breath.
His name is the treasure and will be forever.
His kingdom reigns high up above...
as they silently bask in the warmth of His love.
Somewhere beyond the depth of the forest
there's a beautiful land of the rarest,
on top of the world, nothing less,
where hearts find pleasure romancing forever
God's promise, all fresh and new...
as they silently bask in the warmth of the Blue.
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poem by Joyce Hemsley
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when the muse calls... for O. Ray who knows and understands and for Kay
when the muse calls
cut your hair
get the bleach
assume another identity
start smoking if you don't
quit if you do
drink so you don't hear her
when the muse calls
get a change of address kit
get an unlisted number
find a girl who will break your heart
mutter and ramble to yourself
while walking the streets
when the muse calls
read Zane Gray novels
listen to talk radio
watch CNN
hit your hand with a hammer
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poem by R. James Sterzinger
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Disparities
Oh, what has occurred to the fraternity of mankind?
For i have been through the books and i am now a bibliophile;
But the intricate ideal of your soul is the mirth of your love.
Life shows disparities by man's rules,
But dream all the time and try to innate the love line of my heart;
For the legal texts do not create missions.
Do not hunt for the ancient gods and goddesses!
Because you can come out of your tutelage with a positive mind,
For the laws are made by fallible human beings on this earth.
Gain consciousness before it is too late!
And to respect who you are on this earth with others around you;
But, why beat about the bush when the truth is still by you?
The withered nakedness of ourselves on this earth,
And what kind of pride do we have on this earth?
For they have caused the earth to ramble because of nuclear effect! !
But i still have a question for the fraternity of mankind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Modern Day Poet
I am the modern day poet you know
that must make words that easily flow.
For to just present words that ramble on
is to yield forth words that soon are gone.
They're gone from the listener and reader too,
who cannot reason or cannot view
how the words just seem to sit on a page
allowed to sit and yellow with age.
Words must be caressed and also thrive
to take on rhythms which come alive,
alive in the memory that through the ear
has taken it in and holds it dear.
And so in each poem I have my say.
And so in each poem my words do sway
back and forth like a front porch swing
giving my poem a magical ring.
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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A walk in the countryside
What a lovely day for a walk
a nice ramble in the countryside
take in all the lovely scenery
the flowers, the fields, the birds.
What's that over there in the distance?
something Red in colour by that hedge.
I hope it's a Fox they are beautiful,
it hasn't moved so I may get up close.
What a let down it's a traffic cone!
Hope I see something more interesting
than a stupid traffic cone on my walk.
What's that rustling noise?
Could be a Pheasant or a Partridge,
on closer inspection I see the noise
is not from a bird but a bloody crisp packet!
As I walk on I tread in Cow dung, fag packets,
used condoms, and endless empty beer cans.
I've been walking for over an hour now
and along with the cans and the crisp packets
I've seen two Tesco trolleys, a Microwave Oven,
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poem by Kevin Halls
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Polysyllabic Complexity
Polysyllabic complexity
Polysyllabic words afford me great hilarity
Especially used improperly
By those who seize the opportunity
to demonstrate pretentiously.
Their vast store of vocabulary.
It fills me with malicious glee
to see them comprehensively
confusing similarities
between words so easily
Relinquishing simplicity
in favour of complexity.
Because they’re hoping to impress
us with their cleverness
Instead display their foolishness.
Because of their proclivity
for using words which do not mean
quite what they think they do.
Instead of saying what they mean
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Oh, The Winter Is Here!
The farmer couldn’t hear the cock’s crowing,
Though it was six in the morning.
I fumbled for the clock, bedside
Because it was still dark outside.
Then it dawned upon me
Oh, the gloomy winter is here.
Along came blankets and quilts
Shoved inside for months, without care.
And the smell of mothballs filled the air.
Oh, the smelly winter is here.
I laid curled up snug in bed
Just five more minutes, I pleaded.
Oh, the inhibiting winter is here.
The weight of countless clothes
Made my movement slack,
As if carrying another person on my back.
Oh, the heavy and oppressive winter is here.
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poem by Fadinginto Oblivion
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My Last...
The last word I breath is something that won't be repeated,
I'll tell you of a time when I had nothing but a dime,
I'll ramble on as if time would not move,
But then it's time for me to pass,
For nothing is meant to last,
I will go happy with my last testimony,
While I fade away,
I hope I left good memories,
And love to fill a family,
Not hurt and pain,
I hope that I told you not to fret,
And that I'd be going to a better place,
I will go happy with my last memory,
I will have had a lifetime spent,
And hopefully a good impression on you,
For it is true that I try,
I'll watch you from above with a front row seat,
And guide you on your way,
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poem by Kathryn Miller
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