Best Misheard Poems
There’s a fluttering in my attic;
something’s alive up there.
The cat is getting frantic
and I dread going up the stairs.
I hope that it’s a bird,
rather than a bat;
unless I have misheard,
oh, I’d better get a hat.
I recall my sister’s hair,
when a bat flew into it;
it truly was a horrid affair,
she threw an awful fit.
I hope it’s not a vulture,
no, the louvers aren’t that big.
I hope it’s just a sparrow,
if it is, I’ll dance a jig.
There’s a fluttering in my attic,
some creature has moved in.
I hope it’s an easy rescue;
a challenge I can win.
Salome just loved gingerbread
But Herod misheard what she said
Who wants a dead head
To bounce in their bed?
So she dashed to the John instead
*Title inspired by Special Character, Ilene Bauer
We don't speak the same tongue,
but the air between us hums
with understanding.
It's in the way our eyes meet,
the way silence bends
to the shape of each other's heartbeats.
The words we don't say
fill the space between us,
more certain than any language.
More lasting than syllables
that can be misheard or forgotten.
We understand each other,
not in the way the world teaches us
but in the quiet truth of touch.
The unspoken rhythm
that flows between souls
without need for translation.
You don't need to say it for me to feel it -
your hand on mine
is a sentence that needs no punctuation.
The tilt of your head,
the slight shift of your breath
speaks in a way no words ever could.
A language older than any we've learned.
And maybe that's all that matters,
the knowing without speaking.
The way our hearts meet
in a place deeper than language
where every unspoken word
is already understood.
Written: September 29, 2023
____________________________________________________________
Walking through the corridors of my dream,
Down the boulevard of anguish, it seems,
Breathing in the knell of an unreadable sky,
Haunt Harbinger hypostatization, holding high
Dimly lit guests, snow troopers, and a piano key
Playing a dismal dirge, an internal funeral melody.
Insightful memories on the dark side warn us
Anger and passion, the cusp of nuclear dourness
Letters written in sepia script, a child's scare
In this circumstance, an illustration of despair
A startled, hoary invoice manifests in the mail.
Chaste in Gulag, cognizant of the time roll on stale
Shattering and breaking through the glass box.
The axe grooves on raw wood and blocks.
A misheard song, carefully shattering a splash.
The spear is reflected in the water by a slash.
Hope mirrors shake fate spears to consume.
A rare bedazzlement, a reflection of optimism.
Swords of inertia rattle, eager for consumerism.
But I drudge, unfazed, in this dream, I resume
Where the power of a single act of kindness
Can shatter darkness and bestow brightness.
I walk on, carrying the weight of the past.
But never forget that it won't last.
In this dream, I find solace and peace.
In the midst of chaos, pain, and cease
The blue sky is melting into green.
A symbol of hope, of a raw scene.
In the beginning was the word
(stop! right there.} It said the Word was
God, and not God was the word. Is this
something that has been misheard
or unheard about the word?
It says the word was with God not, God
was the word. it went right past the
mind like a bold bird. The word was before God
and not the other way around. It almost
drops the head down to the ground.
Now once that is straight, there no
time to waste. It's time to clean up this place.
Because it's a message to the human race.
It's time to take another take two. Because if the
word is God that means God is in you.
The words you write and speak, are like
food for the body and mind to eat. It God
coming out of your mouth, that's really
what we are talking about.
Words created by us runs world, these words
are used in the lives of every man woman boy
and girls. We say it then we do it and it becomes
so. It's not hard to see or even know.
Our world comes from the things we say
the things we do every day. The world is
created by me and you. What we see sa and
do. Words matter like the skies are blue. Why
because they live and breath inside of me
and you.
We are the masters of what's to see. We are
the creators of what we should be and should
not be. If we don't respect words we follow.
Our hearts souls will remain lost and hollow.
We are the makers of what's true or not. We are
the makers of what's cool and hot. We are the
creators our children that do the same. We are the
people of the earth and the word is our name.
. Hello Stranger
. stolen glances
. eyes meet
. smiles returned
. stories shared
. laugh freely
. curious wonder
. common passions
. finish sentences
. seek company
. growing together
. trust mutual
. always there
. we're together
. FRIENDS
. often apart
. missed calls
. ring voicemail
. replies delayed
. forgotten birthdays
. silences misheard
. familiar assumed
. doubt grows
. changes resented
. drifting apart
. pathways diverge
. awkward silences
. different values
Thanks Goodbye
There was an old man on a cart,
Acquaintances knew him as Bart,
As he only ate beans,
He inflated his jeans,
And smelt of a permanent fart…
Inspired by She’s Like the Wind (which I misheard as She’s Got the Wind, lol)
For Giorgio’s A Song Inspires a Poem contest
On Aging Gracefully
It seems that while we’re here on earth
we spend our time ‘tween death and birth
in growing older and it shows
how fast my body ebbs and flows.
Allowing time to contemplate
and reminisce before too late
how far I’ve come to this fair place;
they say I must age sweetly and with grace.
I know my body’s not the same
as when I started in this game.
It’s not the same; I know it well
at least as far as I can tell.
I take my glasses off my head
and place them near me by my bed.
But can I see? Oh, not a bit,
my eyes are bad, I must admit.
My ears have aids which compensate
my lack of hearing to this date.
It stimulates some thoughtful chat
though misheard words account for that!
And then my teeth, I have to tell,
are soaking in a glass as well.
They smile at me with toothy grin
until I put them in again.
My chest has fallen to the ground;
the hair I have is grey, not brown.
My chin has twins, nephews and nieces;
my face has lines and lots of creases!
I have no special muscle tone;
I am no longer “in the zone”!
I see a mirror and I scare;
don’t know the guy who’s standing there.
At five o’clock it’s time to eat,
sit by the table; off my feet,
but let not much pass by my lips
or it is forever on my hips.
My body’s cursed with indigestion;
my singing often comes in question;
my breathing breathes out gasps and wheezes;
each morning starts with several sneezes.
I yawn with nothing to yawn about;
I yawn inside; I yawn out!
And napping’s not a dirty word;
refusing naps would be absurd!
My body aches, I feel each pain
and ask when I’ll feel good again.
What happened since that time long passed
when I thought wrong my youth would last?
There is much more that I can mention
of doctors trips and drawing pension.
But here’s the truth I have to face:
they say I must approach this age with grace.
But will I take it lying down
till I am six feet underground?
Oh, not a bit; there’s not a chance.
I’ll not give age a second glance.
Beauty chortles forth a frabjous,
interrupting static sanity,
Misheard through ears abstruse.
Boojums guised as proper
Cast labels fathoming blind vanity --
Yet, beauty chortles forth a frabjous.
They are the true Doctor
Jekyll’s -- hiding the reality
Misheard through ears abstruse.
Bolt nothing into the locker
Of recycled, rusted normality;
For within beauty lies a frabjous.
Wear robes of bold laughter,
Sing out of men's obscurity
Misheard through ears abstruse.
Disregard these pyrite-crusted beggars,
To true ordinary, simply fools & jesters.
In beauty there lies a frabjous
Misheard through ears most abstruse.
All the others row the boat slow while I crank up the motor....
Here we go let's start the show, I'm the show boater.
The entrance of the eminent,
with ability that's evident.
Poo fills your pants
as you now know you haven't a chance.
I've had it with those who flow with a transparent talent,
the thumpy clumpy rhyme and rhythm of an elephant,
regardless of their age they should think about retirement,
as a skill that's transparent is a skill that they haven't.
I'm the standard setter and I lack compassion,
my skills unmeasured and better than the competition.
Your rhymes are rotten,
that's why they're forgotten,
you're not the dogs bollocks
you're just the dogs bottom.
I rhyme with a rhythm representing Great Britain,
you rhyme like you've been bitten and are disease ridden.
My hyperactive mind will leave you behind,
I am not being unkind but simple minds,
can't even begin to find the words to bind,
people like you often tend to stumble blind
over the simple single syllable rhyme.
I started writing and I'm unstoppable, it's easy it's natural,
you're a hangover fart that lingers like a holocaust chemical.
I am the only poetic superhuman that's causing confusion,
it's amusing how you need the supervision to point out you're losin'.
You need to train your face to look HUMBLE when defeated,
if you feed what it needs your brain won't crumble depleated.
I'm on a mission to book first place, so when I'm awarded,
I must be applauded, stand and clap don't remain seated.
You need to accept it and expect it,
or quit while you have time to forefeit.
You will blunder under the sound of my THUNDER that goes round,
but if it's misheard,
I've got a box of frost to start biting,
but if that's squandered
and you carry on like a fighter,
I'll strike you with lightning,
one way or another you will not win top writer.
Respect the perspective that my rhyme is perfected,
and to conclude your rhymes are rejected.
Not to be rude but your seat's to be ejected,
it's not that you're bad it's that I am majestic.
(Friend) "Okay dear. Can you hear?"
(Lady) "Yes. Yes! Of course I'm here!"
(Friend) "Your husband is on to second tee."
(Lady) "No. I haven't had my tea."
(Friend) "What a hit! Woah! Ho! Ho!"
(Lady) "Yes, my garden needs a hoe."
(Friend) "Oh no! You've misheard."
(Lady) "You want a cow? We've got a herd?"
(Friend) "Oh. That'll go down in golfs history books!"
(Lady) "I said cows. We have no bucks!"
(Friend) "Phoning you isn't working, I see."
(Lady) "Who? Who has gone to sea?"
(Friend) "We're not at sea! I'm a golfing peer!"
(Lady) "Aye! Southport has a lovely pier."
(Friend) "I have to go. Here's so and so."
(Lady) "I knit a lot. But do not sew."
(Friend) "Ugh... Don't you have a hearing aid?"
(Lady) "I used to be good at first aid."
(Friend) "My train is here. Bye, bye. Choo! Choo!"
(Lady) "He bit off more than he can chew!"
(Friend) "She sure brings out my fangs and claws!"
(Lady) "My name isn't Mrs. Clause!"
(Friend) "One more word and I'd have turned the air blue."
(Lady) "By patronising me, our chat he blew!"
(Friend) "Don't ever ask me to call your wife again PLEASE!"
(Lady) "Ha! Ha! Ha! I can imagine his pleas!"
Written 7th October 2022
For the "HOMOPHONE" Contest
Sponsor: Hat Bueckert
Embarrassment at the Big Box Store
By Elton Camp
Sue was checking out at the crowded store
Then occurred something that she did abhor
Although the checker tried to do it twice,
A bar code just wouldn’t scan—no dice
So, loudly over the store’s public address
The equipment malfunction he did confess
“On super size Tampax I need a price check.”
It was misheard as “thumbtacks,” then heck
Over the public address system came the call
That was unavoidably heard by one and all
And so loudly the question then did come
“Is that the type you push in with your thumb?”
“Or is the missing price you need me to trace
Ones that with a hammer you drive into place?”
Red-faced Sue made a mad dash for the door
And resolved never to shop there anymore
extracted
smiling; hello
It's been a long day, tired off all the repetitive noise:
Move slow
Times fast
Why won't
You go
I'm important
Are you important
To me
Extracted
Hello; Smiling
Digging into a word; something about electricity, a connection; might discourage it. The sun stayed on long and with all the conversations, cars zooming, creatures moving, I couldn't find silence in my head. Staring at an ordinary sidewalk that grew me exhausted from how normal it was. I paced a listless pace, in total daze of the abundance of copied sound:
move fast
times slow
why won't
you hold
am i important
you're sure important
to me
Modest from the recognition, trying to figure out the appropriate response to
smiling; hello
Alternatives:
If I smile and nod, he could stop and pause, probably turn around, want to know my name.
If I smile and nod, he could move along, probably just courtesies, never know his name.
Tired of all the repetitive noise:
Move slow
Times fast
Why won't
You last
Am I important
Are you Important
To me
Questioning the result that be encountered from the:
Hello; Smiling
How should I perceive so actions could follow through;
Do I want her presence, I don't know why I looked, a smile she had it booked. It took me a moment, that I just had to stare, the hopes I'm not sure I'll declare.
Is it just my intuition, is there something that I'm missing. My walking's starting to ease in speed, I'll lose what could be found, what might I need.
Staring at an ordinary sidewalk that grew me exhausted from how normal it was. I paced a listless pace, in total daze of the abundance of copied sound:
move fast
times slow
why won't
you bold
i'm important
you're sure important
to me
Something about recognition, modesty and prohibitions; ruin a perception twice. Two people could of broke the ice. Maybe to afraid to fumble, but even misheard words spell mumble; A salutation or full discussion, two hands could've been touching
Shake
hold
Play
touch
Feel
same
way
Each other
Grab
cup
Pull
caress
massage
All
day
Like lovers
Hello
Smiling
When I was young, a dining needle
Was the term we used
To name a flying insect, but
Turns out we were confused.
For darning needle is another
Phrase for dragonfly.
If you see one up close, then you
Will know the reason why.
Its thin and tapered body looks
Like what we’d use to sew,
But “darning” is a word that many
People do not know.
And so a word misheard became
A means of us defining
The dragonfly, which we assumed
Was out to do some dining.
Keeping One's Word is a rare find today,
Since VERY few follow, do what they say.
Words are so easy to dispense and spew,
But require investment to follow them through.
When in confidence to someone you speak,
Can you really be sure, they will not leak
Anything said in private to another soul;
Can they really be trusted to be not a mole?
VERY few can be believed, trusted this much,
And in your absence, when you're out of touch,
They'll tell another what they swore they would not
And it's not because they simply forgot.
So many times I've heard the same ol' line,
"It's between you and I; don't worry, it's fine",
Only to discover eventually and learn,
What was said in private did come back, return.
How many will promise there's something they'll do,
But then forget what they said and don't follow through?
Then when you ask them about doing what they said,
They react with belligerence to fault you instead.
VERY few people actually will ever keep their word
And when they renege, they'll claim you've misheard.
If you then prove to them what in fact they said,
Don't expect apologies, just insults instead.
Keeping One's Word is indeed, a VERY rare trait
That only a character of excellence will cultivate.
One who does not can never be trusted completely,
If they place no value on behaving discreetly.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-10-21 19:57:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.