Best Gabbing Poems
Silence is Golden
In a laboratory in a far away place called
Lahore
Was a mad scientist, who experimented
Offshore
He fiddled and fuddles deep inside his lab
Making clones of his glorious self
Thinking they mighty fine lads
He cloned twenty or thirty or a hundred and more
All chattering and gabbing, their master they adore
Oh yes, he’s the mad scientist from Lahore
He has many accolades for he had many votes
He cloned so many, democracy was a joke
But the governor caught on
And saw through the clouds
Something was evil under the shroud
Banished he was to the prison of deception
Hopefully he will clone no more fake conceptions
Birds roosting on the power line,
Squirrel can’t cross but he’s trying.
That’s his regular run across this road,
Back to his home with his acorn load.
Squirrel’s always in a hurry it’s seeming,
No time for their gabbing and preening.
He does this high wire act most every day,
And chatters at the birds to be on their way.
Duly admonished they reluctantly fly off,
And he continues his mission aloft.
Crossing this road I’m driving, he’s up above,
He’d use the ground if push came to shove,
But his kin used to cross on the road below at will,
Sadly I’ve seen, they ended up as road kill.
Apparently to live, he’s learning what he’s got to do,
So goodbye little squirrel, I’m off to work too.
Was he in the wrong place at the right time?
Slipping, sliding, dying
to live;
just a kid.
Mom and Grandma busy,
gabbing, too far
away.
Was he in the right place,
a parental replacement
for such a time as this?
A little boy with prayers said
over him
while he traveled life’s rough roads;
even his carriage ride was bumpy.
After transferring hands a couple times,
the little boy found himself in Germany,
a celebration,
now his feet are slipping and sliding,
he can’t get a hold -
the pond, his death pondering.
An old man reaches in and snatches out
this little kid.
Just as soon as the boy is saved,
the angel disappears.
That boy grows up
and marries me.
5/23/2022
The truth in SPADE
Inviting to get LAID
Gabbing on-line
Many options to be WEIGHED
Is she(or a He) RIPE-
to be just my sort of TYPE?
Old enough for a MAN-
to get it on in my Chevy VAN?
Never really FOOLED
Since the pocket protector always RULED
New at the chat LINE
Looking for over twenty
Greet 'em with a pick-me-up
"Say..you're lookin' FINE!"
Hate comin'on STRONG
to a Honey in her THONG
Maybe by sweet singin'
a Paul Anka kinda SONG
If she don't like mushy
I'll become John BELUSHI
by Beltin' the blues
In my Blue Suede SHOES
But then AGAIN
Age ain't my FRIEND
Guess I'm DUCKING a -UCKING
Aren't you glad this is the END?
coffee break gabbing with friends
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Here's some things that really irk me
They must irk some of you guys too
Loaded baskets in those Express Lanes
My face turns a scarlet hue
Imagine the gall of some irksome drivers
Doing fifty in a fifty mile zone
What is it with these bunch of yahoos?
Probably gabbing on their phones!
When you order a cup of hot java
At your favourite coffee shop
And it turns out to be luke warm at best
You wanna give the server a pop!
Another one of my little pet peeves
Pill bottles that are made seniors proof
You get a hernia trying to open these things
The inventor was on some kind of juice!
Playing along with the clues on Jeopardy
Interrupted by some breaking news
Unless the world is actually coming to an end
It can wait till the end of the clues!
Bugs me when some guy in a big fancy car
Takes up more than one parking space
These a-holes need to be straightened out
Love a word with them face to face!
Ahhh! It sure feel a whole lot better now
Once I got these things off my chest
Life is too short to let these things bug you
They're minor annoyances at best!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Growing up in govan as a wain
We didny have much in they days
But we'd wid never complain .
We were happy way wat Yeh geed
Nae body gret or yed get a slap on the heid.
Aw the games we aw used to play
Up n doon the street
We're aw the maws wid gather up n meet.
Gossiping gossip aw day long
N still be gabbing till the next morn.
Wed make wee dens down in the ally
Tin cans on out feet so we'd walk silly.
Play kick the can n one man hunt
And brittish bulldog doon the front.
Our kids now dont no how to play
Way too many computers n their
Hitec ways .
The duet of a garden's music in June,
afloat with all the season's notes can bring...
The milder one is where chant of orioles
join honeyed air's refrain
as dragonflies flip a spin to answer
the humming pampas on the lawn.
And how the mutter of a pond
swishes around Grandma's flower beds
where laughter wisps and sneakers squeak--
Then, the other one-- a more raucous tremolo;
loud chuckles of youngsters pitching
through hollers beneath white clouds
yelling away for a doughnut fete,
paired with alto voices of neighbors gabbing.
But no matter-- this garden is our magical place
to quench a thrill from romps
far beyond skyscape's tapestry
when hours wheeze by
into this rhapsodic spring - duet...
a cycle's buoyant grace pulsing on and on.
Double Exposure Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
5/21/2020
darling dimpled dervishes
dancing delightfully
ghouls goblins gargoyles
gabbing, grabbing, ghosting,
witches wearing weaves,
wistfully watching watchers
dust of night brings Halloween
Outstanding orange ovarian owls
studiously studying steeples,
betting bulbous bats below
will wind-fly down, betwixt and between.
jealously juicing, joyously jeering
Dubiously doubting daring dust of the night.
Sultry morning
Hot air passes through my bedroom curtains
With a reminder summer has returned for certain
Fans buzzing about
Up and at them
Grab my bike
Perhaps take a hike
Mom making potato salad
At that time our neighborhood was busy with kids
School was out how thankful I was
I can remember running down to the local park
There was a group there doing arts and crafts
Yes I’ll make my Mom a potholder, weaving along a pattern
gabbing with the other kids
Stripped shorts
Tied tops
Sneakers and short socks
Back home for lunch
I guess I’ll wait awhile and take a swim
Here comes my cousin he’s jumping in
Summer fun
83
Cellphoninsistance
CharlaXFabels
A complication of poetry from poetrypoem
They talk on them incessantly they carry them to every area and venue of the
public life they chatter at the insistence of the breath of life within them they think
that it is some sort of talisman made to make them taller and much more better
looking than they were before they got them. They carry strang inerversions of old
tried and true such as holsters… Please don't call me on my phone when eye
am out and still about they might shoot me when eye pull it out of the holder on
the belt that looks like holster of my gun oh brave new world…they seem so cold
and distant like a driver in a hurry…Gabbing,
Yacking, Smacking, lips that should be my kiss, instead of paying some attention
to your erratic driving. Cellphonitus. For all the world like a drunk reeling and
clutching at the straws in the air like a drownding man intent on self survival and
crazy like a man talking out loud to himself…A man walks in a circle talking to
himself and moves around slowly to find the best advantage spot and although
he is dancing all by himself there is actually someone on the other end of his cell
phone
eye had to say RICHARD Tracy to get past the censors go figure see part 2
There's the
Guy
In the corner
Strumming on his guitar
Singing of the
Good ol 2000's songs
Shaking his head
At the recent rap reps
The golden eyelet
Etched on
There's the emo girl
In all black
Tapping furiously
On her laptop
Emailing any
Cooperations
That would take her
Her sighs can
Be heard from the
Other side of the room
There's the dude
With the manbun
Tutting to the BGM
Muttering of
The Friday tiredness
Glasses hung low
On his eyes
The couple in the corner
Giggling ecstaticly
Sitting snugly
Sharing earphones
Gabbing
Of the dreams they seek for
Sweet high school
Innocence
Cigarettes burning out low
Feet out on the balcony
Overlooking
The sky full of stars
There's the salaryman
Sinking low into his
Wrinkled suit
Still in his twenties
Not wanting to go home
To sleep
And wake up to the
Same tedious routine
There's the girl
With the piercings
Smoking
Perfect rings
Lord of the rings
She smirks to herself
As she
Watches them
Slowly
Disappear
Into the air
Waiting to
See the
Soleil levant
Dripping of tequila
My Hair Was Not There
About I was starting to become quite curious
Why do Americans take their politics so serious?
Could it be which way each politician will walk?
Or when they start gabbing and talk the talk.
After hearing all of them I often have to balk
Sound like Jack when he is in his bean stalk
I am tallest and greatest and wherever I go
I put on a pretty big act and a great show.
How should I show off knowing nothing at all?
Like a big wind in squall many I may appall
Solution is take credit cards and each creditor
Start running them through a paper shredder.
Have you ever possibly felt like that before
Even heard people say why sure and shore
And about shore I am certain and sure was
Why going there is where everyone does.
Especially if never found any place to hide
And you have a big blizzard going on outside
Took all the beach sand down to last spoon
Flint used sand to filter water out in each saloon.
Now with much nuisance down path were led
All of the pipes are plumb fill of lovely lead
While in shower was washing my dazzling hair
When I reached up it was no longer there.
All of my hair down lead pipes had been lead.
Does that sound adequate and apropos to
describe the whole thing?
James Nefarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
She'd been been beaten, pushed around and abandoned like trash
without a collar around her neck she was a dog with no name
Dogtrotting slowly behind the back street she licked at her rash
until a sweet woman appeared, looking ill and riddled with pain;
two birds of one feather
tethered * together
trumping bad weather
Out of the cold she was brought and given a morsel to eat
she bathed her slowly and gave her, her very own name
The fire was hot and the hearth was real warm at her feet
she sang her a song that made her forget all the pain.
gift of recovery
given for free
gabbing with glee
She barked with joy and her eyes shone like diamonds at night
"Daisy" was finally home and with a master as kind as can be
She now had a collar and someone who treated her right,
never again was she hurt she was happy and finally carefree.
I take a sip of pinkish liquid – White Zin.
Will I be able to drive home now?
The goblet seems much more fun than it should be.
I am horrified by her fullness. It shocks me. Too much liquor!
My brain screams at the young waiter, who is probably new,
Does he think he is helping out an old lady without friends?
Without a home? A crone who lives under a bridge on a storm grate?
The bar and grille’s loud music no longer bothers me.
One sip of White Zin wiped out my irritation station.
Spiders who live in my spinal column scurry away for
An evening of “who cares?” We are unconcerned.
My back cord is relaxing into a pudding pop of herself.
For the first second I realize the music is Country Western
and I am not cringing. I reach for the glass goblet. The
White Zin sloshes into my mouth, with a happy war cry.
I know my mouth is now in her “ugly-fat-protruding mode”
I do not often take this mouth out in public,
But the white zin has convinced me I do not care.
I do not know these people, nor do I want to know them.
A gaggle of gabbing women two tables down are laughing now.
Someone has recently left this earth-plane. They are
celebrating tonight to honor her memory. By the time
my friend arrives, I have used up all three of the dinky
napkins, writing words willy, nilly and yon.
None make sense.
Care I?
No.
We have a lovely time, out-cackling and out-laughing
the grieving table, my friend and I. She has a liquor drink
too so she is insanely silly.
Some old geezer wanders over and says he is sitting down.
We hold firm and he falls off the seat onto the floor.
Oops. Maybe I was the one who held firm.
We promptly leave. Hug goodbye. No kissing.
I let her pull out first. She can barely see. She has
hit lots of cars. I wait for a bit.
White Zin and I are not the friends we once were.
I throw up promptly when I arrive home.
Second or third reminder to me that I should not drink alcohol.