Best Garble Poems
Then, he knew why he must hew
old memories from marble-
emotions quarried from heart's slew-
Oblique fight with his faith's garble
Cut block unfolds Christ, enthroned
on mother's lap- death sleep supine...
Sculptor's concepts cast in stone,
art wrestles with thoughts divine.
And sorrow, stilled in her young face,
speaks truth of words kept in her heart-
mother, son, distilled in saving grace,
sacred words saved in graven art.
A pity, the piety
so few true onlookers saw...
Revealed in society-
few look on In devoted awe.
II
Now she knows why she must express
emotions whittled away, and smoothed
from quarried heart's deep distress-
The process leaves her soothed...
Such feelings are not cast in stone-
Warmly carved in reflective marble, maybe,
as he wrestled with tempestuous thoughts
burning, guiding hands that draped
unmoving drapes over motionless shapes,
shaping faith that cannot be bought.
And the tenderness on her gentle face
belies the hurt of curse's sword driven
straight through her mother heart...all trace
of ancient prophecy hidden.
Till truth, preserved, be told.
Had he not told them many times
he would return, come back to life?
And that word was kept, unfailing.
And the stone was moved, revealing...
Posted: 22nd April 2019.
Note: I am totally in awe of the stupendous sculptures produced over the centuries.
Miraculous as they are, I believe in greater miracles, the resurrection of Christ being just that.
I am also a mother of two grown up sons.
My little miracles...<3 <3
Luke 2:25-35. Luke 24:1-8
There was pity for one second for the victim in this case,
when 'Hilly', 'Bee' and me were walking to our drinking place.
We were slobbering in thought for what keeps us all afloat,
then 'Hilly's' eyes flew open wide - "Is that a hundred dollar note!"
A hundred 'bucks' was lying there upon the unknown nature strip.
'Should we hand it in' 'Bee' mentioned with a quivered bottom lip,
but the vote was three to zero when 'Hilly' mentioned that the 'brass',
"Would buy a slab of VB plus half an ounce of 'grass".
'Bee' and I ain't into drugs but seeing 'Hilly' found the cash,
we brought ourselves the VB and let 'Hilly' buy his 'stash',
then walked to the Catholic Church and sat around the back,
where we drank our first three cans and 'Hilly' opened up his 'pack'.
I watched him lick his papers, and stick together three or four,
and roll his 'grass' just like a 'snag' but then he broke the law.
He lit the 'joint' and took a drag, but then went 'glassy eye',
and from this point was senseless, and believed that he could fly!
Not only did he flap his wings; 'Hilly' thought that it was hot,
and stripped down to his birthday suit displaying what he's got.
'Bee' and I laughed at his antics 'til he ran out on the street,
and done his style of ballet dancing 'round, everyone he'd meet.
No matter how we tried to help him 'Hilly' stuffed the plan,
with a big grin on his dial and shouting out 'peace man!'
It might be alright for 'Hilly' thinking all the worlds at peace,
but that became a different matter with intrusion of p'lice.
Because we're in the company of a bloke whose floating high,
the coppers threw us in the van for what I don't know why!
But said they wanted statements from the pair of us, that's all,
while 'Hilly' stumbled out some garble 'bout making a phone call.
Now under legal obligation 'Hilly' dialed and then he spoke,
and in a very short time at the desk there stood a bloke.
The copper said, "Are you the lawyer, for that doped up dill?"
"No" the bloke replied - "I've got pizza's here for David Hill".
MM
Menopause Moment
It comes on uninvited
And it doesn't make you excited
Heart flutters ensue
To an almighty hue
Of crimson red
Lighting up your face and head
Next comes the tsunami of sweat
Accompanied by an almighty dread
Will anyone see the tell tale signs
Will they think l’ve been on the wine?
Doctors’ scratch their chins and ponder
While you garble questions and just wonder
Will your brain capsize?
Will you stay alive?
Beneath the bluster and blunder
Which is now your life
Thank God your no ones wife!
So, there is no womb prayer
Just you, pulling out your hair
No soft voice
In the middle of the night
Telling you it will be alright?
Copyright Sinead Looby.
They walk alone together down the bright white line, their
Voices garble against the humming hordes as the
Tautness of the moment lays out like lacquer in the dustlight
Of our dreams, life feeding moisture under cleated white grass.
Talking angularly and stepping away from the parabola now they
Stop to admire the scoreboard like field generals
In the infinite march of Time's conquest.
They turn back into the red zone and ennoble their strides and
Emblazon their courage against the dizzying starscape.
3rd march2012, by: Sashi Prabhu (zeauoxian)
Form: rhyming couplets
Sandy tracks, still and dormant, lie await for us,
Virgin sands of Malvan beach, its breeze my body salty caress.
Through the grooves of coconut palms swaying tall,
We trudge to the sandy shores backpack and all.
Green thatched leaves. Crowns of glory, shade it extorts,
Swinging hammock to nest me in my denim blues shorts.
A strong breeze blows saline pelagic scented odor across,
Blue waves melt to foam, kiss shores, hued shells emboss.
Lonely eagle soar virgin blue skies,
More of the brood join in and glide past fishing boats floating by.
A murder of crows feast on our eaten table,
As in the warm waters we dip, the crows our food they garble.
The waves sound gushing rhapsody repeat,
Us jovious beach bums in water enjoy the sunny heat.
Dry fishing boats on logs they are on the sands to park,
Lie along akin, like silent serpents, waiting for dusk to embark.
Sea gulls they glide over silver wavy waters,
Food seeking dives perform, for them that’s what matters.
A pack of dogs they frolic with glee,
As the fisher folk heave coir ropes dogs from there flee.
Golden sunlight darts out of stagnant clouds formless,
Group of lads, beach volley ball they play tireless
As I sit ten meters away from wet sandy shores,
Melody erupts as waves repeat encore.
The Hustler
sun up ~ to sun .... down
racking ~ stacking ~ busting ...balls
cues to leaving .... fast
The Homeless
seven ~ eleven
willing to work ... for some .. food
tips .... appreicated
The Streak
rampage in the street
running ~ butt ~ naked ... again
got ~ caught ~ by ~ the .... fuzz
S.S. I.
going ~ down ~ the ... drain
dwendling ~ future .... savings
what will our kids .... have
Money
wart of all evil
here a buck and there a buck
out pocket it goes
Heat Of The Night
under swollen moon
two lovers conjoin in kiss
hooting escalates
Free Bird
raptured or captured
theres alot to squak about
when comes to freedom
Tanked Up
over lips through gums
look out stomach here it comes
fifth of gin and rum
Gas Wars
big pot of chili
causing quite the explosion
between puckered legs
Hell's Fury
theres a storm coming
and it's right under your feet
better start running
Poet Destroyer
menacing poet
with only lovely reviews
shine on harvest moon
Long Winded
blah ~ blah ~ blah ~ blah .... blah
garble ~ garble ~ garble ..... gosh
will - this - ever .... end
The Dead Zone
six feet or over
pushing up only daises
rest in peace Daddy
With a mind sharp as a marble
Words roll off my tongue as garble.
My clean shaved head is like a globe
Serpentine tattooed, lobe to lobe
With yellow, brown and strings of blue
Of understated pastel hues
Waxed smoother than a scratched eight-ball
Like a brain coral, all in all.
What is outside is not within
Sharp as a marble crown to chin.
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
Contest Name: Simile Poetry Contest
“Sharp as a Marble”
(alternately known as the Doubting Thomas Crown
Taj Mahal Cupid Affair)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fortunate (for me) thee bona fide "FAKE" Cupid
(aka Decoy Donald Duck
and side kickstarter Jay Rad,
colluded donning one alias,
which (former and latter)
amounted tube bing disguised incognito
as the cingular "Ivan Ha Bea Robber Baron),"
while same above placed
their System Of A Down on high alert
whereby, they unwittingly, fortunately,
and accidentally discerned disquieting "noise"
i.e. static electronic crackling
purportedly from nemesis, asper sans above
whereby broadcasters colluded
confusingly, congruously, and convincingly
as thee infamous digital (duplicity)
faux "Big Mac" Trump.
The chalkboard scratching, hair sprayed bouffant,
and knuckle crackling
appeared tubby the handiwork cleverly disguised
(as tinpot dictator antics of Moscow's version,
sans Putin on the ritz),
which decrypted garble (a fluke) as iterated above
strongly emanating via polygamous,
prestigious, and pseudonymous
pull no punches ploy
innocently convincing feigned
duo code named "Ashley Madison and Bert"
disclosing (when uncovered),
a heartless conspiracy in concert
with Sesame Street studded lesser known Muppets
pretending tubby oil tycoon Bedouins
intent to fleece "sensitive"
top secret military defense contracts,
which Russian motley crue ace double agents
intended this act of espionage thence sabotage
feted as a Black Sabbath Lupercalia feint
not for the faint hearted clubby fete
where Cupid given free rule of the roost
allowing, enabling and proffering
Cyrillic chattering Cherubim
hook cooked United States "figurative goose"
lock, stock and barrel, which stratagem
captured president unawares
and did significantly boost
Eastern Bloc reconnaissance (on par
with the Philadelphia Eagles
winning 2018 Super Bowl LII
which surprise clenching championship
wrought frenzied hoopla, gala, and bacchanalia
where barenaked ladies
cavorted nsync with beastie boys,
whence City of Brotherly love hoopla found
nearly every man, woman and child soused
(analogous to each person garnering
an early Sainted Patrick's pot of gold.
MENOPAUSE MOMENT
It comes on uninvited and it does not make you excited
Heart flutters ensue
To an almighty hue
Of crimson red
Lighting up your face and head
Next comes the tsunami of sweat
Accompanied by an almighty dread
Will anyone see the tell-tale signs
Will they think I have been on the wine?
Doctors scratch their chins and ponder
While you garble questions and just wonder Will your brain capsize? Will you stay alive? Beneath the bluster and blunder
Which is now your life
Thank God your no one’s wife!
So, there is no womb prayer
Just you, pulling out your hair No soft voice
In the middle of the night
Telling you it will be alright?
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve.
You do not live in a fable.
You know drugs do deceive
The lies they weave
Make life very uncomfortable.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
For some reason you believe
Their babble
You know drugs do deceive
You won't get any relief
You are not able.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
Once you have a bad habit it is hard to retrieve
Your mind and speech that has become a garble.
You know drugs do deceive.
A lot of people will grieve
Because you let drugs and alcohol take over your life
That was stable.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
You know drugs do deceive.
This was a time when humans were new,
before stress in our lives, caused us to brew.
When survival meant eating dino doo doo and
grunting was the language everyone knew.
As time went by, certain gestures arose,
like to push or kick or to club ones foes.
Then one day, a strange man had appeared,
he had this defect that everyone feared.
Most of his features were normal you see,
but his two middle fingers, grew like a tree!
The words he could speak were so very few,
yet he blurted some garble, my name EPH EWE!
He’d use these fingers to knock others down,
make them feel hurt and give them a frown.
He could make someone sad, others got mad,
for his fingers were weapons like nobody had.
He would fling them about and proudly exclaim,
EPH EWE! He would grunt, continuing his reign.
To this day his name is a worldwide phrase,
as the gesture of fingers became a big craze.
Most get offended when receiving this sign,
but don’t hesitate to use it… if so inclined.
So if ever you wish to make someone frown,
make them feel bad or just put them down,
just whip out the fingers and call out his name,
for EPH EWE, is the symbol, that keeps us all sane!
Poets Hanging from a Poet Tree
Poetry in motion is perilous a dangerous pastime a thing of the anachronistic
past in the global villainous village in which minds are colonised for the greater
comforting good of synchrony when all are equal at speechless lack of words
It is decreed on pain of death that meter rhymes and scripted feelings tercets
appealing to the trinity of liberty justice and dignity are abolished from now on
that reason must appeal only to the rationale of what the rulers think for us
Signs around rebellious broken necks state crystal clear suggest resistance to
be futile ‘I am a poet swine and slept with words’ draped from the garrotte of
those scribes who could not be reformed in genocidal concentration camps
Surely civil society is a better place with those demised who smear the thought
police with craft and artistry dreams fantasies and aspirations of a loving kind
or critical reflection of virtues happiness not derived from greed or power
Will I hang gladly from the tree shout in defiance ‘death to silence long live free
expression eat my words’ or would I prefer to save my skin since once the chip
to monitor my mind has been implanted all evidence is centrally collected
Or underground persistence burrowing subterranean streams of consciousness
hacking into silicon and copper in my brain to garble up regimental surveillance
short circuit and cross wire all those in power with one massive Trojan virus
Scaremongering you think and cynical exaggeration spreading rumours croaking
ominous fake news and propaganda well think again and make a plan for how
you’ll fare with threat and passion because the trees are there and so are the signs
Its 2017 and my odyssey is far from begun.
Nearly ending every yearlings dwindling
Found above ground without Mona Lisa's lungs.
Without air is mortality.
Anything else is air mortality.
Painted on a picture is a mural on a bar stool room wall. Blank faces stare beneath the counter.
As I drink myself under the taker.
Only to arise with the power of ten thousand men—Truth be told, that’s about less than ten thousand women, infant and children.
Elderly has forgotten and our honest approach takes a step forward.
How is unthinkable. Why is unimaginable. Anger is intolerable garble and forgotten is an ancient power that is truly god-like...forgotten
1-20-2017
I create monsters
Then I wait in ages to hunt me
Monsters in dreams as I introduce
Become real hi t haunting to me as I work
They made me pay the bill never on time
Dreams and wishes garble in sparkly gluey neon dark cloud
Than every thought haunts as I live by them
It is a kind of monsters hidden in cloudy day in darkest cloud
They have very special kinds a I introduce from my birth
One is so kind the other everything about is greed
Third one is mirror watching what you have done
Monsters hunts me and fight them in my each day
I had laid foundation for this moment.
But who I wonder, might be listening?
The deftly fashioned phrases I had planned,
now tumble into mismatched tiles
of scrambled words, from scrabble's hand
spilling garble out of hand!
Now, this is news you may refuse
But let me tell you: HOW NOT TO ARGUE!
Yes! Wrestle, woo with words, I will!
I spill opinions, and take a stand!
Will he fall and say “Yes dear,”
while my stunning words appear
taking hold the upper hand?
Darn it!, much against my will,
emotional blubber, my tears will well!
My calm approach, and swift attack,
falls apart, WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?? !!
My soapbox, platform, for two left feet,
will crumble with my shamed defeat!
My five alarm fire, starts with a blaze,
too soon becomes a fading haze !
Just gol-darn smoke gets in his face!
Gibberish, senseless words out loud,
once proud embers, sound absurd!
Can't I once, get THE LAST WORD??
The surging tide, a frothy ripple,
makes him giggle, never grovel!
Pleasure gleams in both his eyes,
This drama queen just wants to die!
Dang it, I can never win
He folds his arms, and sports a grin!
Better end this bitter novel......
Let me dig, with my own shovel !!
______________________
For Verlena's Slam Contest...Round 2