Best Gargled Poems


Only One Voice

Deep funnels gurgling
                                  From abysmal drums rumbling
                              Dark caves humming gargled songs
                              Where light silent falls.
                                  Eddies swirling rise like winds
                                     As bubbles bounce: white mothballs

                                 The winds rustle leaves
                                     Strings of sighing violins
                                        The heart swishing, dance the beat
                                        Of lovers laughing
                                      Footfalls by rivers murmuring
                                 Where the mountains’ wood dove wails
Categories: gargled, nature
Form: Choka

Premium Member A Child's Concern

A CHILD’S CONCERN

Guess he was ninety years old
Had a cat that died, so we were told
Accordin to dad, his name was Ralph
And old Ralph liked to talk to his self
He sat on the porch every day
Watchin people pass along the way
Old Ralph was so old his wrinkled skin
I would swear was fallin off of him
One day I got close enough to hear
Some gargled talk, “Oh, my Tabby dear.”
My Tabby dear was his old dead cat
I’m smart enough to figer out that
I spose he talked to others too
But no one that my daddy knew
People listened then hurried along
Shakin their head at the old ding dong
Postman told me old Ralph’s day was past
Even dead old Tabby gone at last
No one left for this lonsome old coot
I guess no one really give a hoot
Porch now is empty, sign on the door
Ralph won’t be freakin people no more
Dad says he’s up in heaven somewhere
Hope lonesome old Ralph finds Tabby there

Dave Austin
Categories: gargled, loneliness,
Form: Free verse

The Friendly Neighbor

"Pleased to meet you",a friendly line
I guess you'll be my neighbor for a "little" while
Would you like to come in and have a tasty cup of tea
There is something I should show you 
Something you would not believe
Now strung on a rafter through my affinity
You were a fly caught in a web of 
maletecence when you fell asleep
Revolting from the stench of my malignity
Your barbed wire ripened flesh is only the beginning
Through my ablation of your anatomy
The bewildered expression on your face
shows the pain I thrive to see
Hung upside down,you are gutted pigotry
No one will ever know that it was ever me
Blood bubbles through your ears and gushes out your mouth
Your gargled scream no one will hear
To my binge I am devout
Terror stricken eyes and horror haunted soul
Your blood has bleached the floor since I plotted your demise
Through your fog glazed eyes I see your life deprived
Reflections of my beligerent smile confirms your last good-bye
Your necrology sealed through a macabrish mind
Pleased to meet you,it sure was fine!!!
© Pat Mccoy  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: gargled, death, fantasy, imagination, loss,
Form: Lyric

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Third Shifter Fog

Coming off third shift, My brain in a haze… Feeling worn and ancient, Dragging through the day’s maze.

I got home exhausted— As tired as a dog. Reached for a drink— Spilled water in the fog.

Grabbed for a sponge… But what did I meet? In my sleepy confusion— A Rice Krispie treat?! ??

My knees were aching, And so was my back. Tried to brush my teeth— Dropped the toothpaste cap!

Rummaging for cereal, With hunger in my belly, Found a bag and took a bite— Wait... was that jellyfish deli?! ????

Ran for mouthwash To cleanse that awful taste— Gargled boldly— Soap?! I spat in haste! ??

Night crept back in. Time to get dressed. Buttoned my shirt… Gave it my best.

But outside in the breeze— Someone gave a yell. “What is that smell?!” I couldn't quite tell…

Then I looked down— One shoe was black, one was blue. And on one unlucky sole… Was the culprit of the pew! ????
Categories: gargled, adventure, career, class, funny,
Form: Light Verse

Six, Six, Six

Daubed and menacing
In "Technically"-Colour;
Words, regret-gargled.
© Dan Keir  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: gargled, anxiety, evil, language, mirror,
Form: Haiku

Black Diamonds and the Benefits of Ylang Ylang

"Black Diamonds and the Benefits of Ylang Ylang"



The prescription
was to write

black diamonds
against the pale 
antidote

cutting glass
precisely, words
gargled slowly

she bled

diagnosis
Jung
and the benefits 

of Ylang Ylang

Feeling all the colours 
inside of 
Black

A body of work

Arms arrested 
legs spread 
against the white board

Byzantine Blue

(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)






“Colors” / Beck
https://youtu.be/WRCA_Fo0rWA






"In times like ours, where the growing complexity
of life leaves us barely the time to read the newspapers,
where the map of Europe has endured profound 
rearrangements and is perhaps on the brink 
of enduring yet others, where so many threatening 
and new problems appear everywhere, 
you will admit it may be demanded of a writer 
that he be more than a fine wit 
who makes us forget 
in idle and byzantine discussions
on the merits of pure form."
Marcel Proust



“I'll find you and go right through walls we made...”










http://www.elizabethmoon.com/writing-depression.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cananga_odorata

The name ylang-ylang is derived from the Tagalog term for the tree, ilang-ilang - a reduplicative form of the word ilang, meaning "wilderness" 






LYRICS/ "Colors", Beck
https://genius.com/Beck-colors-lyrics
Categories: gargled, color, freedom, muse,
Form: Free verse


Premium Member Water Matinee

What drapes these aqua wavelets’ sultry trail
Along curled bends, creamy foams lift and rise?
Where toes and gulls splash fountains like a sail,
Paddling on rock ledges with gargled sighs

Dewdrops gloss salty brine through chromed rays
To warm the heart dancing with crystal flights,
As grains of ivory sand hurl tangy sprays   
A dream-like scene taken from mermaid rites

Dolphins in frolic swivel hips on display
Cavorting with sunny air like splashed reel,
To play games , a  water matinee
One, two  rides on tides’ Ferris wheel

Lapping through buoyed floats with coral refrains
This my seashore adorns my wild private roam,
Keeping life’s odes, our tunes of summer remains
On bed of skin tan, she becomes my home.


Summer Contest of Debbie G
by nette onclaud
Categories: gargled, adventure, sea,
Form: Quatrain

What's Sacred

Truculent trucks advert young minds; raging down roads breeding new gods as pompous, glitter covered idols carved from primordial blades of fear. Meanwhile pious pieces of magnesium stone get chiseled out of focus, branded by labels of complex empirical realities, numerically based shrines too impenetrable to worship. Help! Is the cry of objective cynics still rumbling in earthenware, readily retracing faint footsteps of Diogenes. Jumping in a wormhole of subjective garments to escape an ill-fitting, elementary pipe dream of unified ideals, gargled then spat from archetypal lips. Blowing away the dandelion fluff to catch a glimpse of act 1, scene 1; unrevised. Before curtains close the gap, leaving a thinning tightrope walk between me and we. Strutting back inside homes where a novelty Christ hangs on drywall masking punched holes of pain, wagging fingers pointing to his prescribed solvent, waiting for tomorrow to unlock today’s faith. When will they point at the mirror wading in dark nooks of conscience’s blurry frame? For he who searches, will seldom find peace beyond arms reach.
Categories: gargled, deep, faith, introspection, jesus,
Form: Free verse

Dot Dot Highfalutin Dot Dash Indeed

A phenomena misinformed is a mispronunciation of a garbled gargled juice. Only released once. Not twice. Nor three times. In fact the catchment period for enticing a cake is relative only to atmospheric pressure conditions. Obviously whirling! Cantankerous hound on a motorbike with no helmet. How rather silly. But he is a general arch. But not an archway. That would be too clever. And he is a simple general who knows only a sanctified sauce. Like glue it has stuck since birth and like glue he adheres to the codes norms and the values of this region. In a generalistic sense. Whilst resembling a dark chocolate biscuit. With a pointed nose. At a slight left angle. 

Fish tail dance then with a wobble wibble wobble. WOW.
Now look at all the colours.
Clicking clocking heels denote the time. Detonation. But not in a bra. In a child's suit. Plastic wearing earinged chef of chefs. Boiling then cooling and then colouring in an acre tall colouring book on a view on a balcony. Supping. Shimmering fabric of spouse dress. Simmering. 

Pimple pocked pample moose often needs pampering. Just like an overgrown toddler. Stamp stomp stamp then. Cheery cream pie...CHERRY CREAM PIE....In skirts...whirling...Then squashed on top of the delivered cake. In panic and anger at such outrage delivered by the prominent one. In fact the prominent bull in the planetary field often bellowed so loud that the fries delivered upon request and tantrum were blown across the balcony at such haste that they burned little holes in the woodwork and ceramic surround.

To write is to relate and to relate is not to be late or to relay.

It is the opinion of an onion that induces tears to some.

It is the integrity of a small suited potted plant packing a suit case.

Rapidly

WOW

And just how intelligent is an underwear drawer, a walk in wardrobe or an acreage of scarves?

Answer that and multiply by a threshold?

Equals what then? = ?

Z decipherment Z – at 3336 spoons to 17,000,000,000,000 pickles in skirts.
Categories: gargled, anti bullying, anxiety, baby,
Form:

Mountain Sleep

Mountain Sleep 

Mountain sleeps once upon a lake
Yellow bird skims the surface of liquid blue
Draws in an insect on the slender beak
A subtle noise discerned as it gathers up the bug
Disturbances below are heard, a lifted fin, a splash 
In nervous motion the trout moves back below
Cheated by the bird who stole his living meal
Above the lake, below the gaze of mountain
Snow melts, rain rides the spine and washes down
To purify the path 
Make the past and present one and the same
Gliding between here and now
Mountain looks for a cover
But only finds the white of ice
Trees are used as toothpicks upon the ponderings
Lake is gargled with the blue and brine as mountain thinks
Wakes, meditates. It rises on green grass
Mirrored at the water’s edge
Pretends to see right through it
Then turns with each hour of the sun
Bakes with the red birds spinning like rotisseries
Mighty wings lift and swoop on clouds
Rivers rush with them to some lost town
Forsaking summer in a rush of churning waves
Joined by colored feathers keeping tempo 
Mountains are too heavy to go with them
They are only rocks and rocks don’t run or fly
They only fall and roll with wisdom into winter 
Tectonic movements take them slow along the land
Steeped in snow that covers everything with solace 
On the giant slopes pulled over like a blanket
The mountain, brought to its knees, to sleep
Categories: gargled, adventure, bird, fish, identity,
Form: Free verse

Owl Watching

Clutching his coat closer to his body, he trudged through the thick fog. Steps unprepared,
unplanned, only to arrive at the statue posing in its eternal stiffness. The face carved
carefully, most obviously hand crafted with letters seemingly gargled and thrown up, left
misinterpreted but etched into history. Coins jingling in all 4 pockets, unspent and
almost as worthless as the promises that were made.

How-To books only revealed his worthless state, ripping out blank pages one at a time,
with the bright yellow façade guffawing at his precipice. The inevitable would amount to
an anti climax, one that would bother him for a while, one that he could possibly never
forget.

Tired screams were dismissed of their existence, after all no one was around to hear them.
A bloody mess lay at his feet as a deep drum drew closer and closer. Beads of sweat
delicately ran down his face, his palms gilded with blood as pure as gold. Precious stones
culminated into a vacant stare and slowly as the sun set, they shined no more.
Categories: gargled, death, introspection, mystery
Form: Prose Poetry

Premium Member Leave It Out Judge

The judge told the man, “You’re accused
By all of those that you abused.
You’re too touchy feely,
You touch and feel freely
And all of them feel they’ve been used.”

The man cleared his throat, then he spoke
But all that came out was a croak
He coughed and he spluttered
But nothing got muttered
It sounded as though he might choke

The judge said, “Are there mitigations
For your regular deviations
For touching two teachers
And one or two preachers
And, with my wife, having relations?”

The man cleared his throat once again
His voice cackled like an old hen
He just couldn’t speak
It could take a week
His lawyer requested a pen

The judge said, “It only gets worse,
You fondled a man in a hearse
It’s really quite shoddy
To grope a dead body
To decency you are a curse.”

The man tried to write a quick note
He coughed and he wheezed as he wrote 
He struggled for breath
Like he was near death
Or had a bullfrog in his throat 

The judge said, “Speak up at the double
You sound like you’ve gargled with rubble
As a means to an end
Suck a Fisherman’s Friend.”
The man said,,, “I’M IN ENOUGH TROUBLE!”
Categories: gargled, humorous, judgement,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Villanelle: Everything Takes Time: Take Not Time By the Forelock

Villanelle:  Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock

Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
Whether in deference to the past’s foiled efforts
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock

Rye clavicus purpurea our joints dislock
Till the soil of our conscience deeper than roots
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock

Eastern sky pyrotechnics rude rockets won’t mock
In deference to witches’ brews sharp mandrake roots
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock

Infernal fires rage on in limbs of mad rock
Gargled warnings in the larvae spouting cheroots 
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock

Is that Bosch who will St Anthony’s fall not baulk
Memories of charred instant byres turned to soots
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock

Took thirteen point eight billion years to make a lark
How many to buy back twenty-one eight trillion debts
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock

(c) T. Wignesan - Paris,  2017
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: gargled, allegory, america, anger, angst,
Form: Villanelle

Strangled

Strangled
By Kevin Robey
March 6, 2013

The invisible man gripping at my throat
Gargled sounds are audible but remote
Gripping my wrists, and holding me down
Think I’ll drown, darkness closing all around

I feel the pain, the knife in my heart
But never felt that I played my part
This isn’t the image you had of me
The steady hands you’ll never see

I bleed out, but relief never comes
The man consumes me, never done
There is no light to end all the dark
No final journey, my soul to embark

There is no fighting this, can’t you see?
I have no weapons in my artillery
Everything else has come and gone
Melodies changing to the same old song

Despair rings in my ears, the cloak is never lifted
Relief never comes, and they all said I was gifted
Man from the nightmares that can’t been seen
I wish that this was all just a happy dream

But I lie here alone, strangled in the dark
With people passing by, no one remarks
I scream in silence, a useless muffled plea
To save me from this overwhelming reality

But still they pass on by, not looking around
I look in vain for steady hands, never found
The terror remains, it’s all the same
Just forget my cries, forget my name

This is too much, let the scene fade to black
Post my obituary on the board with a tack
Allow the sweet relief to soak in
In a world where I’m free again

The invisible man with his hands around my neck
He will kill me you see, leave my body in a wreck
Until then I suffer from this slow but inevitable death
Where his fingers caress, releasing at my dying breath
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: gargled, death, depression,
Form: Rhyme

Re: I Love You

Three words,

murmured in exhaled whispers,

filling infinite ears,
through numberless tongues.

Three words,

soothing, embalming, teasing, cajoling, suffocating, giggling,

spoken so much, meaning so little,
conveying dreams, hopes, life, peace,

offering solace, comfort,
bliss,

stoking fear, frustration, anger,

emptying days of meaning,

offering rickety crutches,

onto which countless emotions end up leaning.

Three words,

mumbled, gargled, spewed, spit out,

violated, battered, ripped open, casually desecrated,

crashing down upon skewered hearts,

shrinking into nothingness,

in each breath that departs.

Three words,

‘I love you’,

blaring out of empty mouths,

emblazoned on fluff,

rings on fingers, cards, flowers, puffed teddy-bears,

stuff,

hollow stuff.

Three words,

mortify me, as I scribble this verse,

rendered catatonic by fear,

revisiting the truant past,

knowing,

three words,

curled-up, wounded, gasping for air,

accepting at last,

that,

you do not care
Categories: gargled, angst, beauty, hope, journey,
Form:
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