Best Misspoke Poems
Ferreting around, in dumpsters of dreams
In the back alleys of my imagination
Through swill, liaisons, and cheap rendezvous
And words misspoke in conversations
Rummaging for one morsel, an old tattered remnant
In a disregarded or discarded memory
For that one piece of the puzzle, a maggot's repast
To feed a starving, rapacious fantasy
I find a face, in a crowd, dark eyes and dark hair
It was only a passing glance
There's a memory, lost, of a soft tender touch
From a young girl at my first high school dance
Then mixing and matching, of shapes and sizes
I've always been partial to curves
A voice, a whisper, an exciting laugh
From a stupor that's still just a blur
In this jigsaw fantasy, some light conversation
At a restaurant by candlelight
Some soft music, slow dancing, funny improvisation
Then a romantic walk in moonlight
She's intelligent, engaging, laughs at my jokes
I'm forever lost in her eyes
While we dream with the stars, with her kiss I'm awoke
In the dark , I sit and I sigh
an original poem by Daniel Turner
There once was a family named Keets
They spoke in a series of tweets
Goldie was yellow and slender, of course
Blueboy was puffy and had no remorse
Together, they’d swing or gaze in the mirror
And watching them peck could not have been dearer
Their house was a castle of plastic and wire
That echoed their chirps, an avian choir
It always sat perched on Grandmother’s table
And that was the start of this family fable
You see, she would often leave open their door
They could fly freely or even explore
But one day, not seeing the window ajar
She sighed as they both winged their way to a star
Blueboy returned but Goldie was free
How Grandmother cried as she did decree
I’ll get my girl back , I’ll call the police
Thinking for certain, they’d listen at least
When asked to provide her name and address
With no second thoughts, she muttered her best
She lived on Byrd Street and this was no joke
They did not believe her, had she misspoke?
Sure lady! They said, no time for a game!
Grandmother and Blueboy were never the same
Joe Biden now rules our White House
Together with his 'doctor' spouse.
His blunders, for sure-
We have to endure;
To caring, he does not espouse.
Those mishaps, like names he misspoke-
For sure, were not meant as a joke.
But much worse by far
His failures that scar-
Appeasing the will of the woke'!
Day-one, he shut down the pipeline-
made our oil production decline.
Gas prices- despise!
While heating bills rise!
We now must import and consign!
Appalling- how he shut that door
To exit the long Afghan war!
Left our troops behind-
Their rescue declined
In spite of their sacrifice bore!
Our vast Southern border, exposed-
All previous rules- he opposed.
He let millions in
And, to our chagrin-
Come outlaws and drugs- unopposed!
Bad crimes multiply by the day;
The victims now feel cast away.
With no fines or bail,
Or time spent in jail-
No need that bad guys must obey!
Inflation's gone way off the chart;
We dread the time spent at the mart.
Less food we now choose
For his brainless ruse-
Just printing out money's not smart!
And, last but not least, Hunter's life!
This son and his dad cause us strife.
With Chinese, each deals-
While 'The Big Guy' steals;
Through quid pro quo- they become rife!
Our media hypes left-wing views-
So, therefore, presenting fake news;
When really, they should
Show bad with the good;
Lay out all the facts to peruse!
November 25, 2022
Contest: The Bidens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
I began life as a gorilla – cumbersome and chunky.
I clunked my way into situations, abrasive and loud.
I also misrepresented and misspoke.
Rapidly became misunderstood and ostracized.
Life was not working...
So I transmogrified myself into a butterfly.
Flitting from place to place, not staying long enough for enemies.
Keeping myself safely out harm’s way
Keeping my emotions inside where they began exploding
So I blew up and had to reinvent myself....
Now I am a lively, happy mountain goat.
I butt people who annoy me.
Defriending them right and left on social media.
A warrior woman mountain goat.
Living my truth, my way.
Pleased to meet you!
He slept under the No Parking Sign, newspapers for a coat.
The doctors said he was long gone.
I believe that they misspoke.
He wandered to and fro at night for he was scared to death of sun.
They gave him electric shocks few times.
Should have given him a gun.
Never was one for a bath was partial to the drink.
Jacket dirty and made of fur.
He thought it was a mink.
Few times he sung around the fire whenever he had some cash.
They passed the wine back and forth.
Was found beneath some trash.
The funeral wasn't prim or proper, his brother hadn't funds.
The tears were shed by the priest.
His father was his blood.
Every news media captures horrendous photos with a story
Where has our pride gone as we praise these Lands of Glory
Is it possible that media ratings have well surpassed the truth
Where anything goes right or wrong regardless of the proof
===================================
Every time I turn on my computer or TV there is NEVER anything
decent to be said whether it's slamming a candidate or someone
misspoke instant persecution begins-never ends and I'm tired of it!
MISSPOKE
BYE BLOKE
-------------------------------
Footles are fun. Two lines. Two Syllables each line. Must rhyme
Special Thanks to Andrea Dietrich for my "must rhyme" lesson.
Lady Melanie with silver locks
Loved her bonbons, bagels, and graved lox.
Curmudgeon geezers viewed her a fox,
But she loved them less than chicken pox.
Melanie kept free as best she could.
She allowed no time for coquetry
Or Penelope-style stitchery.
But three bores persistence understood.
Trini, a jet jockey CEO
Lived his life allegro con brio.
As his lovely red Lamborghini,
His love raced too fast for Melanie.
Claude, a failed nebulous maunderer,
Gossip, post-modern philosopher
Believed everything in life was free,
Which made sweet Mellie his property.
Her third paramour drove flat-bed trucks.
When Bo misspoke, he would say “Aw shucks!”
And then, hands on, wordlessly switch gears.
She cast him off leaving him in tears.
Single she may wait until too late,
For a blissful bridal altar state.
Should her three bores e'er face a hot date
At least she shall stand at heaven’s gate.
Tiny chances of slender hopes, that broke.
On your lies i can only pray, you choke.
Not ever was a single word, misspoke.
Scattered tattered moral beliefs, a joke.
But buoyant dreams that fill my head, are stoked.
© Ben Burton 7/22/2015
The day will come when I won't write another word
The day won't come when Bond decides he wants it stirred
The day will come when those who've read me pass away
Then none will know a single word I had to say
But Scarlet, Scout, and Ahab never will decease
For they've achieved creative immortality
Yet, even still, the day will come they'll disappear
When nothing living's left in either hemisphere
Uh-oh, it seems as though, I've once again misspoke
Make that, "When nothing's living but the cock-a-roach"
And at the day's end
When I'm feeling tired
And I'm all alone
And when my head speaks
And my heart churns
The battle rages on
And I've got God sitting
And his counterpart
On one shoulder each
And they're voicing it
What they've come to say
What they've come to teach
"See it's your fault
You don't pray enough
Where's your time with me
I see you over there
Chasing after her
Who are you trying to please
And can you blame this all
The guilt you feel right now
On anyone but you
You're writing poetry
Instead of reading with me
My time's overdue
You don't trust in me
I'm growing tired now
Of these empty games
Your mind's wandering
You're a lazy one
After selfish gains"
Yes you're right of course
On every account it's true
Your shoulder has grown cold
And yes I am 19
But now I must confess
I'm feeling pretty old
Because I'm recognizing
That they way I feel
Is from a battle that's real
And every now and then
I get a burst of fire
And it makes me feel
Leaf by Niggle
Tree grows bigger
Heart goes deeper still
And now I'm breathing heavy
Staring at the lies
Staring death in the face
And accusations flow
"You'll never really live
You're only just a fake"
But excuse me Vile
Every misspoke word
Every blunder and gall
Every terrible night
Every walk away
Every stumble and fall
Every unkept promise
Every broken heart
Every guilt and shame
Was striped upon his back
Slammed into his brain
And that day sin was slain
And I have no clue
Why he chooses to call
Me beloved son
But I'm made new
And here's more good news
The battle's already won
Furthermore I do count
I am set apart
I am only his
Look at his hands
Look at his side
They scream out to prove it
And he held the stone
To end my own life
Firmly in his hand
Yet look at the Script
I am not condemned
It's written in the sand
And with that it ends
When I'm feeling tired
And I'm all alone
When my heart speaks
And I hear you say
"Son I've been here all along"
Special,
she came
she finally came out
out of the dark, the shadow
cut down from the rope that binds
leaving just The Word behind
we are blind when we don't see
not the surface but the grains
of time, of circumstance
leading and misleading
followers only looking for trust
who shall they trust if not their eyes
their hearts?
their minds?
it's a different time, evolved with a different kind
set in a different space
a separate place
a dying human race
we race for information but we don't dig
we take words for truth
even if only heard from one mouth
baby birds chirping for her food
any morsel will do
she
not like the rest
delves deep
into the context
finding filler from fluff
weeding out the mindless stuff
the misspoke, the unawoke
or aware
she came
and the rest just disappeared
In a dream of bare, I awoke
In the blared walls, it misspoke
The winds of Auria eluded in the cascading windows which then provoked
Envisions of Auria descended through the glistening saint
Without a flair, I discerned a haint
Auria wandered in a stage of fright,
Meanwhile, invading my dreams of spite
Her nebulous words echoed in my mind
‘What a faint creature, so misled by fracture’
They mellowed as it prospected my perceptions
As she posited her hand on my exceptions
Envisions of Auria repulsed its regressions
She was my fate of progression
She rehashed my reflections
A memory of infliction
She wandered off into a glistening spade
Relinquishing her jades
I scrutinized her windows of glade
I lingered against her pallid hair
Then, woke up in tedious wear
‘Auria, a lady of fate, yet dart of spade’
Such assimilation wandered in the glistering gape
My thoughts were so heavy, yet so light, though seemed rather bright
They were my reminiscences of Auria”
Never misstepped
never misspoke
Her bearing impeccable
equilibrium evoked
Adored by her subjects
bewigged barrister... blimy bloke
Tears flood the world's heart
its queen's not awoke
President Joseph Biden
Is Joe Biden really our President?
That most obtuse White House resident!
Who brought back 1982 sky high inflation!
And thinks he is the MD of this nation?
Only the most dense, buy all his excuses.
Surprised he does blame it on missing Muses!
I feel sorry, when his speeches show he is not well,
He cannot tell, our country is going to hell?
Behind his black mask he is well hidden.
Whilst following Squad rules, he is bidden
Thus, many cannot this year afford a tree?
How very pathetic in the land of the free!
Sad, he pressures the Ukraine to cede their land.
To Russia, violence is the trump card in those hands.
At Bob Dole’s funeral, as usual, he misspoke,.
Had to say” end of message”, this man, a joke!
12/12/2021