Best Chittering Poems
Rancid lemon rope squeeze
around a rotten tomato neck tie,
crooked odor bow hanging out of place
Acid reflux raisin tax bleed;
dripping spoiled, milquetoast lies
out a sour-twisted, prune puckered face
Tart tongue
sulfur speak disorderly,
dirty saliva fingers in the propaganda pie
Such a bowel movement disgrace
Bottom rung
bung opening vault key
Onion groans ... chittering fermented cry
Boot-licking patent leather taste
Smells like government to me,
corrupt as can be
Dung pile of voter promises,
sits atop a pungent idol landfill heap,
swarming with stinking lip flies
Smells just like reeking government gluttony —
O beast behavior ...
swine odor, foul as can be
Swindle spit vapors perfidiously wafting,
kindle the vomit pit
Sewage waste material ash labors fanning,
can you stand the stench of it?
Smells like dead paper figurehead
government to me
Bait-and-switch fishy business ...
close your eyes,
what does your nose see?
Tainted meat polltry speech,
pluck the purse feathers
off the cable perched pigeon bodies
Smells like government
is about to make a putrid, baked-in story
Made up facts ... maggot video feed
Stale, bureaucratic policy hard rolls
warmed over twice
Buttered late with expired date lies
Served with a cloying cup
of steaming sound-byte coffee:
Substitute truth ... false sugary
Toilet swirl coffin cake,
gutter floss the oral cavity
Bad breath vows made,
garbage hope nobody needs
Government smells
like a morgue dog in heat
Very omit cadaver, obit disgusting
Smells like
a pot of burning bones
on a boil
Bottom lip scum
rising to the top
On a truthful breath: Let me tell you,
it stinks an awful lot
Smells like scurvy government to me,
corrupt as base bribery can be
The lobbyist rats are scarfing down
the moldy green government cheese,
so silver spoon tongue greedily
Nothing like some regurgitated split-pea pleas
to hit the decaying belly ballot gastric spot
Can you make a federal case
of this rank-and-foul flatulent republic rot?
Through eldritch streets I walked alone
With shadows on my track,
Full jellied was my every bone,
I thought my mind would crack.
Through mist and morbid mire I went
To revel where gargoyles dwell,
A guest whose soul was spent,
To meet the host - the King of Hell!
Through caverns dark I made my way,
The squelch of shoe, the crack of bone,
Chittering squeaks from shadowy grays,
Would never leave me alone.
At last I reached the caverned maw,
Ceiling glint with stalactites,
And of course its bretheren I saw,
The saber-toothed stalagmites.
And on the high-domed hellish lair
Hung a grinning crystal skull,
It threw a ghoulish, greening glare
Which made my senses dull.
All around there was a damp,
A noxious putrid smell,
And slightly a-centre on a ramp,
Stood grinning the Lord of Hell.
His feet were hooved, his head was horned,
He flashed his fang-like teeth.
His eyes were huge and darkly burned;
Heart stopped, I could hardly breathe!
"Welcome", boomed my infernal host,
And flashed a rotting smile,
"A welcome drink, a one-time toast,
Before you join my rank and file!"
Something clammy seized my mind,
My clothes turned very wet,
I screamed and woke myself to find
I wasn't dead as yet.
But close to it I surely was,
My narco-ed mind amid I had lain,
At hell's door without a fuss,
When with maddened mind I'd cut my vein!
Grumble-rumble raises hairs on my arms.
Air so crisp it crackles lightening forms.
Whoop the wind scrambles and mell pells,
the stationary earth shivers before it fells.
Scrubbed clean like a naughty, naughty, child,
the twigs and brush scatter, the cat's beguiled.
Cone flowers pink petals lap dance the lawn.
Gray chittering squirrels hide 'tween rooted forms.
Whhhhhoooooosh the gully washer's display,
the sizzling pop of the auto’s fine splay.
The gutters are gargeling spitting a flume,
and, ah the relief from heat such a boon.
Mother nature in all her majesty
has made the day just right for me!
Quote: Both the enchantress and the siren charmer
are part of the same one.
Fired red wings on the breath of a dawning
he lifts and soars towards life, a breath away
from sunrise, chittering before he takes swing
this cardinal of beauty knows how to sing
she a rose in a luscious garden of pure love
a blush of pink dotted with pistil and grace
a daylight sea of beauty sent from above
daybreak breaks and a flower opens her face
both the cardinal and the rose are essential
to our well being we need their reverence.
He a sign of longevity so reverential,
she a sign of love and courage in her essence
we find the echantress in all of our selves
in his, we find a siren charmer who delves.
How beautiful the sounds, sights of nature
In the distance alarm call of a cuckoo,
beautiful sound of summer Tanager
Blackbirds hopping around getting in a stew,
Acrobatics of swallows, swifts, Martins,
Crows of the carrion, rooks, jackdaws, Raven
Cooing of turtle doves and wood pigeons,
Chittering robin, eyes closed what heaven,
Finches so sweet, green, bull, haw, gold and more
Speedy blue, great, coal, willow and marsh ****,
nature is such a pleasure never a chore ,
Seeing these wonderful birds thrills two bits
Serenity while watching our game bird
Pheasant, partridge, grouse, geese and mallard duck
Graceful swans glide, sights and sounds must be heard
Wading birds sifting for food through silt and muck,
birds of prey, kestrel, sparrow hawk, Peregrine
Eagles, buzzards, goshawk, ospreys skilful hunters
Larks hovering, lap wings, owls, magpies so pristine,
Sea birds, waders, hunters, lovely colours,
These moments of relaxation, undisturbed
listening, watching our beautiful wild birds.
My name is Black.
My mouth is diseased.
I walk on walls behind your back.
I've come for your soul.
You had it out on lease.
(You forgot.)
Stop tending to the chickens,
Or don't stop tending to the chickens.
Either way there are no fans left for anything to be hitting them.
But if they were still around they would get hit by you-know-what.
So don't touch me.
Don't tick me off.
I send the weak and injured off screaming in horror.
Mostly I'm just misunderstood, though.
I call a spade a club.
I turn maestros into minstrels,.
Melancholy into minestrone.
I eat sadness and vomit out anger.
I'm a riot at parties for the first five minutes,
Then I'm the mom you didn't call,
The key you left in the car,
The ringing in your ear,
The stinging in your throat.
I'm the faint chittering you hear
Somewhere in your bed,
Somewhere near your head.
I wandered lonely as a cloud*
to places far and wide
I often thought it would be fun
to rain down on a bride
Or maybe on a summer Fete
as rain is something people hate
When dressed up in their finery
they saunter in the sun
chittering, chattering making small talk
having so much fun
Maypole dancers looking pretty
dancing round and round
Morris men they hop and skip
with flowery hats and wooden poles
As carefully they prance and dance
big men like them don’t want to fall
big men like them don’t want to trip
All hot and sweaty they need a shower
or would their smiles turn to a glower
For I’d be doing them a favour
Or maybe it would spoil their day
On a hot and sunny day in May
But I am getting really bored now
Floating around and hanging about
Naughty and mischievous
These words describe just how I felt
Oh dear ~ now is that mean of me
As one, two, three I let one free
My shower is scattering screeching crowds
Soaking them through to their undies
This weather not what one would expect
on sunny summer Sundays
They are now up to their knees in mud
amusing the cows whilst chewing their cud
Then just for fun a handful of hail stones
can be rather painful from a height
Crashing down upon their heads
and giving all the gals a fright
But enough is enough I hear you say
So I return them to a sunny day
I’ve had my fun
I’ve had my thrills
now wander lonely as a cloud*
in search of golden daffodils…
Written 1st February 2020
Contest: Famous poetic lines that inspire
Sponsor: Silent One
2nd Place
line taken from poem written by William Wordsworth*
'I wandered lonely as a cloud'
Contest: Strand Select B
Sponsor; Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Mind differs from the body.
creed of what we embody.
Start with phonetic rhymes
We learn to grasp algorithms.
How do they stay most-given?
A team, that is one-driven.
Does one's desire astonish?
Tell your brain to admonish.
A sneer on the mental brow
Appallingly booming blow.
Yes, you should follow this way.
Block each feasible pathway.
The body is sumptuous.
Warm at the pool alumnus.
Doesn't respond to mental bait?
Timing tools that might not wait.
Real truth lives in our minds.
We love looking for these kinds.
Someone else's nimbly leaping.
When daydreaming or showing
Tap a single rhythmic flare
Nicely made body and flair.
Youth seduced by its own wit.
Dyed mind slips out puzzle kit.
Intense male moot chittering
Had ample scorn, tittering.
That formed to smelt it anxious.
Let them nark what they cautious.
Let them each do as they please.
None of them came to a cease.
Until they met in the past.
As though it were for the last.
I'm watching Housemates.
Enter, discuss, and debate.
I can just watch them in awe.
Calm mind has cost me sorrow.
Complete a mental process.
Coupled with one's hidden progress
A quiet wait for game-start.
Clue that thinking must be smart.
A circle of live persons.
Anticipating reactions
Tense reactions preset dancing
How to strain when enhancing?
Look for life's necessity,
Needs love and austerity.
Focus beings on the soul.
How to live arty role.
If we grasp eternity.
Time and eons disunity.
One didn't equal the other.
We crave life touch void over.
Mind differs from the body.
creed of what we embody.
Start with phonetic rhymes
We learn to grasp algorithms.
Written: 09/01/2022
Sans Mind-Body Who Are We Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Checked by: HMS.COM
and Rhytmezone.com
JUEJU: 7 syllables every line
I took this as a summer job,
college expenses require pay,
they sent me up Whithorn Mountain,
put me in a cabin to stay.
Every morn I climb the tower
to make sure the forests don’t burn,
underestimated the boredom,
for some interaction I yearn.
Sure, the hikers will chat with me,
but I give them the same old spiel,
fifteen minute friends, come-and-go,
not much time for something real.
My girlfriend came for a weekend,
but she’s such an indoor cat,
stomped down before one day was through,
then she dumped me after that…
I get cell-reception up here,
from a tower one peak away,
but the cabin has no power,
so the charge I have to save.
I get to go down once a week,
but it’s such a small, mountain town,
go to the diner, get supplies,
then I mostly just wander ’round.
It can be hard to make my peace
when there seems so little to do,
my condition is rare, not oft seen,
I’ve got the fire-tower blues.
But those small red squirrels chittering
can’t help but give me a grin,
they’re the kings of this mountain,
until the birds-of-prey soar in.
Turkey vultures sniff for carrion,
while scribing circles on the wing,
Red-tail hawks look for living food,
and by God, their screech is amazing!
And just the other day I saw
a bull elk walk across the slope.
I know he’s just an animal,
but the sight still inspires hope.
Wild blueberries grow close by,
and after I’ve checked for bears,
you’ll often find me eating them,
it is nature’s feast down there.
Plus it is much cooler up here,
then in the flat-lands below,
the summer sweat and sweltering
is something that I never know.
And every sunrise and sunset
looks out upon God’s own view,
I suppose it nearly offsets
those old fire-tower blues.
Oh in the desert
my horse walks on,
across the big empty,
through the miles long,
this great big desert,
red rock and stone,
a wide, endless nothing,
such a long way from home.
When the water runs low,
when the sun sits high,
I see the vultures
circlin’ in the sky.
I curse this place,
why must it be my way?
When I reach my home,
there will I stay.
Oh this great desert,
silent and still,
no chittering critters,
there’s no found to fill
the days and nighttime,
no coyotes,
it makes a man anxious,
makes a man crazy.
When the water run slow,
when the food’s stretched thin,
gotta walk my horse
so I don’t kill him.
I curse this place,
it’s no land to roam,
and I long to be
safe in my home.
Third level CCTV audio recordings
of the last occupants illegally departing the
quasi-safe, Area 4, Sector 9 quarantine zone
— Seventh vol. of the Ghetto Chronicles
We hate to see you all go,
good company is hard to keep these days
Time is marked as being irrelevant here,
idle eyes patrolling
each iron-bar clad window
The klaxon sirens blaring outside,
gives an aural stench
As motion metal beasts come to
an abrupt screech
Slumping sound of a sickly thud
Concrete ground flowing with blood ...
a poverty-racked body: raggedly, last gasp breathing,
has just treadmark died
And the ghetto violence ever abides
We of the pavement sweeping, creeping crowd
have seen this snuff scene a-many times
Abandoned hopes ...
barely living,
desperately cope in deserted buildings
Surrounded by disease and dope,
provides a-plenty self-inflicted killings
Come inside this iron-bar jungle cage,
and feel the rage
of these walking dead lions
Their lionesses and cubs constantly crying
Sadly, the ghetto violence steadily abides
We of the chittering, unclean-up crew
have tragically seen
the mane numbers a-dwindle to a few
Our antennae eyes
are always patrolling
every crumb-laden floor and creaky locked door
We would love if you last oomans could stay —
Disregard the filth
and diseased surroundings
It ain’t that bad,
once your settled mind
don’t ever troublesome ask
why
you in this pestilent predicament
in the first place
Help that was forthcoming,
just got ambulance carried away
Aw, my bad ...
I didn’t know that was yo’ adopted Uncle
But, Sam-bo
shouldn’t been talking back too loud
to the Po-po Five-O
Oh man, all of you be a-packing yo’ bags too
This rat-infested dump gon be cupboard empty
without all of you Good Timey yahoos,
drinking and singing those darkie blues
Alright ... since you put it that way,
saying how’s you all can’t no longer stay
Before you go,
will you do me and my partners —
Us cockroaches,
bed bugs lice and mice,
a favor, please
‘Preciate it, if you turn off the lights ...
before you leave
All is burning, cinders and ash
flakes float in black rain,
falling on a ground
of clinkers and flinders.
The hand of ruin traces sigils
of chaos and strife
on broken city walls,
within which rats awaken
They are the true rulers of destruction,
living cloaked with shadows,
in any crevice or crack,
hunting bones and burnt flesh.
Their rivals, jet-black birds,
massing on heights above
in their murders
and raucous unkindness'.
After Ragnarök, the still silence
is broken by the raspy flutter
of a million wings,
echoed chittering of uncountable hordes.
What life is left
does not weep.
Birds At The Feeder
small chittering, cheepings
winter wings brushed in Arctic air
chickadees squabble
to choose a seed
from the newly filled feeder
pecking and peeking
and picking just the right morsel
to nourish their individual need
some come, as the blue jays..
squawking and bugling
make way, make way
and landing chase the small ones
grabbing the largest seeds
10—12 at a time
they stuff their iridescent cheeks
I am like those birds
I dip into my deepest pockets
and finding a good seed
a germ, a gem of thought
or remembered feeling
fly to a quiet place
I can hear
the wind making snowballs
fading leaves crisping
chattering acorn crazed squirrels
a soft rustle of chilled bird feathers
I can see
low hanging branches
offerings to short nibblers
the beginning blush of a Red Maple
the edge of the day creeping closer
I can feel
the excitement
of distant V’s
chittering sparrows at sunrise
scampering squirrels
school bus arrivals
the hints of fall
gently claiming its season
John G. Lawless
©9/30/2022
Giorgio rode his red Ducati to climb a mountain
without a helmet to protect the fragile brain
from damage, then all sirens started wailing
as if an earthquake or a hurricane were coming!
" They won't catch me because cars
can't ride mountains or steep hills,
they get stuck in between rocks."
A large crowd gathered below, they yelled,
" Don't crash into big trees and break your neck like Bill did;
your dad is furious about the terrifying news and brandishes
a leather belt. Cops get out of patrol cars but soon realize,
climbing will give them a heart attack and called it quits!
Riding without a helmet may cost a precious life anytime,
use your noodle: motorcycles are more dangerous than cars;
I've seen dead bodies across highways to be replaced by crosses,
don't be the next victim and be listed in the obituary of the Enquire.
Giorgio found his hiding place in a small cave,
where fat, chittering rats roamed and snakes chased them for food;
he shivered and called his mom, she never came
to rescue him: his fear was worse than wrestling an enemy in a feud!