Best Gabble Poems
Chit chattering so happily, in babyish first conversations,
Like treetop little birdies, sharing emerald observations,
Burbling giddily and gaily, as golden moments evanesce,
Tattling like garden beauty secrets, in the feverish press!
Jabbering enthusiastic jollity, in the success of noon sun,
Rumors of glad gibberish, as droning bees in gilt sudden,
Joyful, twittering chit-chat, at back fence of my gladness,
Gossiping with fascinated grandma, on a summer canvas.
What is death if not supreme silence,
Have you ever craved the silk of a quiescent moment?
When the constant barrage of noise around you becomes abhorrent,
And what if the most deafening gabble,
Came from a source that was unavoidable?
Nails on slate but imaginary,
At the base of your skull reverberating,
Now hover in that moment eternally.
As years go by and seasons change,
One thing always stays the same:
The ceaseless racket inside your brain,
Feasting on your sanity at a rate you cannot sustain.
Death is my mistress of solitude,
She flies around me,
An interpretive dance of doom,
Sensually she reminds me,
A painful moment can buy me
An eternity of peace.
A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank,
Discuss'd the question of their rank.
'O Jupiter!' the former said,
'Can love of self so turn the head,
That one so mean and crawling,
And of so low a calling,
To boast equality shall dare
With me, the daughter of the air?
In palaces I am a guest,
And even at thy glorious feast.
Whene'er the people that adore thee
May immolate for thee a bullock,
I'm sure to taste the meat before thee.
Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock,
Is living on some bit of straw
Which she has labour'd home to draw.
But tell me now, my little thing,
Do you camp ever on a king,
An emperor, or lady?
I do, and have full many a play-day
On fairest bosom of the fair,
And sport myself upon her hair.
Come now, my hearty, rack your brain
To make a case about your grain.'
'Well, have you done?' replied the ant.
'You enter palaces, I grant,
And for it get right soundly cursed.
Of sacrifices, rich and fat,
Your taste, quite likely, is the first;--
Are they the better off for that?
You enter with the holy train;
So enters many a wretch profane.
On heads of kings and asses you may squat;
Deny your vaunting I will not;
But well such impudence, I know,
Provokes a sometimes fatal blow.
The name in which your vanity delights
Is own'd as well by parasites,
And spies that die by ropes--as you soon will
By famine or by ague-chill,
When Phoebus goes to cheer
The other hemisphere,--
The very time to me most dear.
Not forced abroad to go
Through wind, and rain, and snow,
My summer's work I then enjoy,
And happily my mind employ,
From care by care exempted.
By which this truth I leave to you,
That by two sorts of glory we are tempted,
The false one and the true.
Work waits, time flies; adieu:--
This gabble does not fill
My granary or till.'
Jean de La Fontaine. Translated From French By Elizur Wright 1882.
heart flutters bearing the news
appointed poet laureate
bows comrades honoring name
gift gabble raising thy brows
expectations of nil
inspirations for others
Tribute To Poetry
And To All The Wonderful Poets
Here In The Soup Bowl
I Bow To Each
Also Entry For
Brian Strand's
Poet Laureate Contest
GL All
She said she prefers humor
In a man. I am no Shakespeare
But I know how to conjugate
With knack and with wit, even
The occasional split infinitive:
To gamely gabble as she giggles.
Where is the fun in that? Better
To impress her with some slapstick
Skit, or razor sharp sarcastically
Spoken iambic limerick about
How good her big "bits" are, yes
My own form of comical flattery!
She is craving for it, the absence of
My despair (also known as tragedy).
Whispers are heard throughout
Echoing off the old, decrepit walls.
Lawyers nervously tapping the tiled floor, already in their minds perceiving how the can twist and and carefully
ever so carefully weave their words to form a web of lies, smirks on their picture-perfect faces.
Each fighting a different battle.
For the lawyers, there is no such thing as justice.
For them it is a minor inconvenience,
If anything, a simple test of skill,
but to the man on trial
it may mean he spend he rest of eternity still.
In the eyes of the prosecutor, the man is a wild animal. A trophy kill to add to the collection.
On the other end, the attorney declares his innocence, with the sincerity of a child telling his mother he didn't soil the bed.
The judge overshadows the courtroom, wearing plain, nearly ancient, black robes, as if he were arriving directly from a funeral.
Yet, his face tells a different story. It is not the judges torn, tattered robe that allow him the greatest distinction, but his worn, weathered face. It displays experience. His creased eyebrows and wrinkled features give no emotion as his stone cold eyes pierce the room and simply observes his surroundings.
He arrives at the seat of his power, a king in his court. He furiously pounds his gabble with the force of an ox. The never ending squabble of the jury begins to cease, and the whispers are hushed.
The trial has just begun.
Two Words – Redux Two
Push
Pull
Donut
Hole
Toilet
Bowl
Laundry
Fold
Sing
Song
Ping
Pong
Mao
Zedong
Fly
Eater
Cloud
Nine
Moon
Shine
Vinegar
Brine
Wild
One
No
Pun
Arm
Leg
Black
Plague
Circle
Square
Head
Hair
Sonic
Whistle
Broom
Thistle
Pretty
Face
Human
Race
Alien
Space
Mountain
Road
Horned
Toad
Meteor
Rock
Mister
Spock
Start
Dart
Go
Flow
Pol
Pot
Hope
Not
Green
Brown
Smile
Frown
City
Town
River
Creak
Circus
Freak
Stuffy
Nose
Big
Toes
Bogart
Bacall
Free
Fall
Standing
Tall
Music
Note
Castle
Moat
Witch
Hag
Laundry
Bag
Robber
Rubber
Space
Discover
Race
Car
Bucket
Tar
Fruit
Jar
Phrenology
Psychology
Logo
Pogo
Wine
Beer
Whine
Jeer
Weather
Clear
Beach
Chair
People
Stare
Garden
Hose
Bloody
Rose
Genius
Knows
Alaskan
Snow
Car
Far
Road
Tar
Proud
Hound
Ground
Round
Upside
Downside
Aladdin
Jafar
Genie
Wish
Table
Fish
Wash
Dish
Slobber
Swish
Babble
Gabble
Clark
Gable
Atlantic
Cable
Stool
Pool
Fad
Lad
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 3, 2018 (Short-Form Free Verse)
The fool does not think to kick your behind,
when there is no ink of pen as-sign-ed.
No tree will disquiet the forest of your ears,
if you relinquish the hot-iron gabble that sears.
You will find it superfluous to dig up a chest,
if your trove relies on what’s heaven’s best.
Preserve your pearly-charm, child of youth,
for “a fly does not enter a closed mouth.”
8/7/2019
Romani Proverb Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
*The final line per the sponsor’s request.
Babble,gabble
simper,whimper
gurgle coo;
holler,howl
scream,sigh
then cry.
Squeak,shriek
screech,squeal
bang,clang;
gnash,splash
peal and crash.
Shout,spout
roar ,rage
toot,hoot whistle;
whoop,sing
cheer and yell.
Ding,ting,tone
zing and ring
hiss,moan and groan;
whisper
then kiss.
Again 'tis that time of year when I must evade that forebodin' axe!
With the thought of my neck on the choppin' block, I jes' cain't relax!
How about a goose er duck to complement yer pies, beans and peas,
Er yer grandma's meatloaf to go with them sweet pertaters if you please!
I certainly ain't got nothin' to celebrate and be thankful fer,
And with that my cousins, brothers and sisters wholly concur!
I pray you'll find other victuals in which to stab yer knife and fork.
May I respectfully suggest that you eat more beef, feesh and pork!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Russell Sivey's "Challenge - Max 8 Lines" Contest - October 2011
Again 'tis that time of year when I must evade that cruel axe!
With the thought of my neck on the choppin' block I jes' cain't relax!
How about a goose or duck to complement yer pies, beans and peas,
Or yer grandma's meatloaf to go with them sweet pertaters if you please!
I certainly ain't got nothin' to celebrate and be thankful fer,
And with that my cousins, brothers and uncles fully concur!
I pray you'll find other victuals in which to stab yer knife and fork.
May I respectully suggest that you eat more beef, feesh and pork!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
"Life" was the shout as the gabble smashed down,
ill never forget that cracking sound,
pearcing eyes from every direction,
judge and jury showing rejection.
My mind a puzzle of purple and haze,
a puddle diluted with hatred and rage,
resentments,fear,paranoia and pain,
the collabirition finally, drove me insane.
now stood sober,full of shame,
inside a room with nothing to gain,
the jailer offers a sympathetic grin,
as he takes me down for a sentance to begin.
FLIGHTS OF FANCY PHRASIS 4
Babble,gabble simper,whimper
gurgle coo;holler,howl scream,sigh
then cry.Squeak,shriekscreech,squeal
bang,clang;gnash,splash peal and crash.
Shout,spout roar ,rage toot,hoot whistle;
whoop,sing cheer and yell.
Ding,ting,tone zing and ring
hiss,moan and groan;whisper then kiss.
Touchy feely,relating ,really instinctive
insight,perceptive prescient perpetually
pragmatic &personally persuaded.
Passionate,impassioned,sensitive &
sentimental ardent & excited,fervently
astir and free to be.
From Flights of Fancy 2003
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
Skies bring happy tidings; Hear peals of thunder "clap"!
Lightning brings great illumination with no gap;
Why should barren clouds move with no torrential pour?
It's, thus, when my soul thinks, wings, begins the rare "roar"...!
Each creature proclaims beauteous divine nature,
Each little leaf "jingles" his love-legislature;
Slowly falls in landscapes "drizzly" drops; soothing-filled
"Pitter-patter" of rain, then, benign smoothing-thrilled...!
Am I hearing the breeze "gargling" to hear her throat?
Have pandemonium of parrot lost their coats?
"Crash" and "creak" and "croak" are heard from nook and corner,
Bull-frog, rat-snake or fish – which is fit for honor?
Angry winds "slam" the doors; As you open, drop "splash"!
"Boom" "beam" and "bop" from nowhere echoes like air-crash;
"Mumble" of butterflies-primroses speak volume,
"Babble" and "rattle" and "gabble" and "chatter" "boom"...!
"Click clickery clack" of the sound of train unseen,
"Cling clung crackle" of landscapes I have never been;
Am I dreaming in ninth cloud as I am happy?
Surroundings seem so splendid; scenes solemn, sappy...!
These games of nature we need to be acquainted,
Beauteous is the sky! So prettily painted!
Talk on God needs Philosophy, theology,
True love-living lies in truest anthropology...!
07 July 2022
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Sometimes I think
I enjoy fear
remembering what I felt
when I was fearless.
I awake bravely
in the morning knowing
risks and hearing continuous
portents, sad words
follow me everywhere.
Is silence the scariest thing,
or is the gabble of human
voices scarier still?