Best Jabbering Poems
A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
Too many years spent in depression buried beneath a pile of regrets
pills of every color aside my glass, cuts of every size scabs included
Broken pieces of my heart scattered from Newfoundland to Toronto
I'd forgotten the taste of content and the sound of jabbering friends
They tried to help me by taking me to therapy but I cried myself to sleep
every time I spoke to him, about my childhood pain and the awful abuse
One day I decided to go visit an old chapel that kept their side door open
this kind woman let me in and ushered me into a back pew then left
I felt a rush of panic, all I wanted was to run but then I began to talk
the words spilled out of my heart, onto a crucifix of pewter and gold
I told him all my secret fears and all the things my mind struggled with
gazing upon that cross I suddenly realized that he'd been broken too
On a crumpled piece of paper I scratched out three words " I choose life "
then I left the chapel door open and walked out into the sun, alive...
Its not like I cured myself all at once it took time, but I finally did it
one day at a time , first I crawled, then I walked, then I saw the light.
December 9th, 2020
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Contest Name: "The Light"
Sophia leaned on her gaunt elbow as she stared out from the high window sill watching the minute drops of rain steadily fell the glass. Her thoughts unfocused when in the distance a shrill train whistle jaunted her recollections to the whispers of the past.
It seemed so long ago when the children were small. Yes, Ann, Marianne, Lydia and Michael the four of them always jabbering away, "Mama, when we die, will we be angels and fly around heaven?" "Mama, when daddy comes home can we go to grandma's house?" "Mama, do you love me?" "Mama, who do you love the best?"
Sophia thought how simple life was when they were mere little ones and how much more difficult it became as they steadily grew towards adulthood. "Mama, I have something to tell you and you must promise that you won't get mad!" "Do you promise, Mama?" Some eight months later Lydia gave birth to a seven pound boy. "Mama, all the neighbors are talking!" "Mama, I am embarrassed to go to class!" "Mama, what does dad think?" "Mama, can we keep the baby?"
Sophia noticed the rain had stopped. Suddenly she felt free. The past whispers were no longer.
SYRIAN REFUGEES
I'm watching a programme on telly
About the Syrian refugees
Men and women and children
Humanity brought to its knees
I'm watching the desperate faces
The terror and hunger and fear
They're facing their ultimate nightmare
And me? Well I'm just sitting here
And saying 'Isn't it awful'
'Something needs to be done'
Whilst searching the TV listings
And planning my evening of fun
Then I happen upon the BBC news
Cameron wringing his hands on my screen
Saying Syria is a priority
Then slips into a black limousine
Then Hollande, and Angela Merkel
Echo the prime minister's views
And tell us how hard they are working
Another soundbite for the news
Then shoot off to their heads of state dinner
Which will go on well into the night
While in the camps the tears will continue
No dinner for those folks tonight
At the meeting, an idea from Turkey
Amongst the platitudes and the kind words
The plan that they're putting forward
Is to drop lots of bombs on the Kurds
I flick channels and happen on Tony Blair
Offering the world a solution
I really can't listen to that grinning clown
Spouting his verbal pollution
He's jabbering on about Islam
Trying to give us the wisdom we lack
And hoping the world has forgotten
What Bush and him did in Iraq
Perhaps he's just a bit jealous
That he's not allowed to the feast
After finding Saddam's nuclear weapons!
A doggy bag surely at least.
While another mother loses her children
More slaughter and mayhem we see
And imagine the arms manufacturers
And dealers, jumping with glee
As they make another few billions
And probably a few billions more
Then they'll hide all their dirty old dollars
In their financial laundry offshore
And the politicians turn a blind eye
And I'm sure that they won't be divulging
How some of them came by their fat bank accounts
And why their back pockets are bulging
But then.......success I hear on the news
The EU says all is not black
They've solved the refugee crisis.
When they get here.........we're sending them back.
Job done, EU movers and shakers
So sorry for doubting your cause
You've sorted the Syrian problem
Give yourselves a big round of applause
© Ron James 05/04/2016
Nestled in a mountain town,
Enclosed in downs of clouds,
Flows a dancing stream
Spiraling, bouncing,
Swaying along with the mountain breeze
Winding through trees, rocks and bushes,
Supporting vibrant foliage,
She voyages through forest
Jabbering, hopping
Swaying along with the mountain breeze
Dazzling in the sun
Shining thousands of sparkling diamonds
She springs over rocks and pebbles
Bubbling, splashing,
Swaying along with the mountain breeze
Attending to the whispers of the sky
And wheezing winds
She travels catching pearls of raindrops
Clinking, twirling
Swaying along with the mountain breeze
Entertaining and providing to peoples
And friends from the wild
She drifts ceaselessly with vitality
Spiraling, bouncing,
Swaying along with the mountain breeze
Robert Hinshaw, what you do is great,
i say because, its comedy in poetry,
we could use a few more like you,
to tickle us until we spew,
keep em coming on true blue,
till you sidestep out the gate.
THE POETS BLOODY FATE, MATE.
Yes Bob it's enjoyable,
tossing lines back n forth,
stirrin the possum one more time,
till he don't know south from north,
words do flow tween toe n toe,
never to be rich, but mates abound,
all around, jabbering onward forth!
good on ya Bob
ya aint no snob,
to know a Galah like me,
great words you talk,
I'll squeak n squalk,
till this bird is flappin free:)
Don
to bring a smile to a few dials, in the nasty world we have,
do whatever you do with style, if not call 4 a cab hehehe,
great hobby mate ...no debate ...but feedback brings it on ..
the words do flow ...sandgoanna goes ....but Johnson lingers on
on ya Bob
Don
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride
to juicy jukebox jabbering
in jackal jackboots
from nearby jungle
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating
jambalaya to justify a
juggled juxtapositional
jurisdiction jamming
as jugular vein jingled jewels
joyfully jauntily jaywalking
to a jay named Jim Jolly !
Onward he jumped to a
Jungian junction
Jupiter jocund watching his
journeying joints
journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit
or jeweller jiggled this job
So he jerked his jess
like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the
next jangle of jasmine
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin
though sometimes Mr Hyde
with jeroboam swirling alongside !
Darkness state of mind
Darkness can be state of mind,
And sadness makes you sort of blind,
Although the sky is grey as grime,
Weak brained tripe, here needs attention.
Does magpie smother find you weak,
You raise your voice and only squeak,
Think you’re fat or thin, now bloody tweak,
Cool dude, by re invention!
Self worth is driven down,
Actor you, invert the frown,
Jabbering jaw jockeys from the town?
Step on for thy ascension,
Negative voice is sorted here,
Act the part, become , sincere,
Personality gets set free,
Jibber jabber just like me,
And walk like Jack the lad!
Don Johnson 27-Aug-11
John S
Jabbering jaw jockeys pull you down,
so climb upon em, cause em frown,
be the strongest spirit, clown,
and rise above the chaos!
Snatched and grabbed, reefed off me horse,
Just crossed over the watercourse,
Big white light it came and got,
Zapped me, jerked me up aloft,
A bloody flying saucer.
Saw the circle spinning disk,
With panels from one did whisk,
Beam of light had done the job,
In me pocket, thirty bob?
Darkness came within my head,
Aliens, bug eyed did me force,
Anger burned hot instead,
Tucker had, no bloody sauce?
New planet appeared with a jolt ,
Purple haze was a taking holdt
Pink of sky with glass buildings clear,
An orange sun was setting here,
Bugeye came and led me in,
To the glassy citadel,
Hover beds without support,
Lifted up no bed clothes sport,
A specimen in their jar,
Often watched and fed bizarre,
Jabbering bugs saw something rare,
Aussie drongo with whiskers there.
Not Just Any Sunset
Sponsored by: Paula Swanson
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.
Within my mind are dusty cobwebs
where drafty breathings edge the corners of remembering
as they hold in a picture stilled that looms,
unchanged but not for lack of a broom;
school books, pads and pens, and bookbag piled high,
uniform dress, blouse, and blazer on the bedroom floor,
shoes plopped in the corner still untied behind the door
covers tossed on an unmade bed, pillow puffed against the frame,
a waking dog with ears alert and a wagging tail ingrained;
I can easily dust and sweep the memories stored there.
The dim light of an old candescent lampshade bare,
shadows of my grandmother rocking in her chair.
Four o'clock as the cuckoo bows,
chains straining the weights up and down,
a baloney sandwich, a glass of milk, she sits waiting
at the small kitchen table, her rosary praying.
Bouncing in the door, hurried and ready to play around,
the smile rises on her face as she puts her knitting down
and with a hug and kiss, she takes me in her arms
as I struggle hurriedly pulling away from her charms,
anxious to go out and play
as she asks, what did you learn today?
Sit, eat, tell me of your day
and I rushing through every thought I could say,
full mouth jabbering of this one and that at school,
today, I've learned the golden rule,
family and the love they give
are all you ever really need to live.
I wish I could go back for just a moment in time
and relive those wonderful memories sublime
now gone
and pushed in the corridors of my mind.
After the sun sets
Before the moon peeks
Coldly over frosted ponds
Daylight hovers behind the curtain
Enjoying a cup of darkness
Flirting with the shadows
Gliding easily across the stage
Hungering for its moment
Irrepressible in its need
Jabbering about night’s ego
Kidding with old stars
Longing for the comeback of
Memory’s yellowed edges
Nighttime’s thieves pilfering
The vibrant vistas
Of daybreak’s dreams
I remember the days they were born
Both in March, cold and rainy yet we were warm
Me a new dad and my love a new mom
Not knowing what to expect, trying to be calm
Jarret was the first, it was March 25th
Time seemed to linger, our long wait was no myth
But when he decided to take his first look
We both cried at our miracle, as if from a book
It’s the simple things, oh… the simple things
The next time we were old hands, but still a little scared
Wondering how it would turn out, our strength shared
The doctor and nurse seem to show no worry
When that heart monitor slowed down in a hurry
But then Anna came so quick on that March 29th
Our surprised little doc, still had her sweater on tight
It’s the simple things, oh… yeah, the simple things
The years go by fast, as everyone says
Somehow you don’t pay attention until, there it is
The first time he and I walked to our fishing hole
My buddy and me, him carrying his little pole
Jabbering away about the big one he’d catch
Me hanging on his every word, knowing this moment would be hard to match
It’s the little things, man I mean the little things
She was a cute little bug, always holding a kitty, puppy or such
She with her happy heart, I love her so much
The first to make friends with whomever she met,
Her big brown doe eyes are hard to forget
The next thing I knew he’s taller than me
With a voice as deep as the old man in the sea
His single word answers to questions left me craving more
It’s tough on a loving dad, but I know the score
She sings, oh.. how she sings wherever she goes
Our happy heart may someday star in the show
Later I pick her up and hear how the game went
Just listening to her joy, me ever so content
It’s the little things, those simple little things
I’m sitting in the car, waiting for school to abstain
‘Cause I don’t want him to have to walk home in the rain
He jumps in, looks at me and says, thanks pop
You know I love you, and that’s non-stop
It’s life’s little things…just these little things
It’s life’s little things…just enjoy the little things..
Whispers as the trees gently swayed,
Each leaf having their own story to tell,
Millions of voices quietly Jabbering,
Incomprehensible to human ears
They prattled to each other,
Sometimes as people walked by,
They would rustle their leaves,
As to draw attention,
Seemingly very interested,
People often got scared,
Looking all around as they hurried away,
Thinking they were been followed,
The leaves would stop talking for awhile,
Then continue as the people speeded up,
Constantly chuntering none stop,
Other times people were braver,
Camped in tents to investigate,
With their tape recorders,
Trying to listen to the strange noises,
It didn’t bother the leaves,
They got more excited as the wind blew,
The more remote the woods,
The louder they got,
It was like they were been orchestrated,
Putting on a performance,
By the winds arrangement,
People not understanding,
Their ghostly like nature,
Of keeping nature free.
16/09/2016
It seemed a million jabbering crows
And a black fragmenting of sky,
The murder caws, the shadow grows
A frantic pile upon the wide eye.
They clustered trees and pile the lines
Sizzling with power; evening came
In a pandemonium of noise, our minds
Dark curtains parted with flame.
Yet we look, and look at burning night
And did not understand the sight.