Best Mumbled Poems
The Party
Everyone is festive
All the ladies in pretty dresses
Champagne in flutes
Flirts in Armani suits
Waiters and penguins
Serving wine and cheeses
Musicians playing tango delights
Diplomats avoiding land mines and devastated sites
I toast them, one and all
Vodka and Russians can not dance
I can drink you all, under and over
Tossing empty bottles over me shoulder
Pretty ladies and purple purses
Drunken observations as the poet muses
Who would bed me now?
So drunk and wise with broken fuses
No one, can see the poetic disguise
Of the lonely man seeking only lies
The tenderness of the Spanish kiss
Hold me, dear dream, caress me inside
The floor is full of empty plates
The party is over, so it seems is my fate
I fall asleep under a street lit lamp
The richest of bums in an old cul du sac
If only before that fateful day
I could suckle upon the breast once more
We are all infants no matter the shore
Love should never have parted out that door
Sanity was broken and tossed away like lore
I mumbled the petty desires of the broken man
I tore out my heart, bloody and beating in my hands
Laid it bare upon the sands
Coupled with crabs
The universe re-created
Eaten raw, love was consumed
New beasts shall roam
Sunken eyes and empty chest
I, am the one who is no more
Tall tails and party hats
The forgotten are never fancy cats
Until one day you meet the maker
Of your story, cooked by the baker
Ovens shall burn and choirs sing
The devil you see, had the last ring
Categories:
mumbled, conflict, poets, society, solitude,
Form:
Free verse
a wisp offered him a small bunch of her soul
duet of florets dandelion with lavender
purr of petals and silent reminder
fragrance in whispers and love
a window of shelter rose from her words
tranquil tender and soft they reached out
tinge of seduction and glimmer of hope
voices sore from shouting and sorrow
‘I love you from the depth of my heart’
‘my mind needs a vessel of kindness’
‘mumbling essence will heal our pain’
‘together cacophony turns into music’
calmly bespoken a hush left her lips
offered a bouquet of serene kisses
blown from faith and surrender
and the earth started to move
inaudible at first a single sound blossomed
a volcano erupted in a show of hot lava
tsunamis weaved turbulent waves
as their union overcame hardship
no scripted audition no dress rehearsal
only embers and sparks of crackling heat
mumbled desire butterflies and nectar
revealing that all will be good in the end
the two lovers threw caution to the wind
far too loud was the chorus of truth
peace sung in harmony’s tunes
serenaded balanced emotion
they smelled the sweet melody
embraced visions of sound
touched dreams in abandon
tasted promises of caress
it had started with one whisper
but the message was booming
climax repeat and crescendo
a symphony of eternal bliss
14th June 2020
Categories:
mumbled, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
It's all a matter of opinion
We all have one of these
We always have something to say
Even if no one else agrees
My wife says I don't have one
I have to ask her what to say
She thinks I'll say something stupid
She says, "You're just made that way"
If we go to a fancy restaurant
She orders what food we'll eat
She tells me when I'm finished
And when to leave my seat
Even on our wedding day
Before I could say, "I do"
She told the preacher, "Of course, he does"
So I just mumbled, "True"
If it sounds like I am henpecked
My wife says that's not true
She says to tell you, "You're all wrong"
She doesn't tell me what to do
So be glad you're not in my shoes
A man who lives this way
The only words I'm allowed to utter
Is, "Yes dear whatever you say"
Well, I think I'll end this poem
And try to get on with my life
But before I go, I want you to know
I probably better ask my wife
Categories:
mumbled, funnywife, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Once there was dingo, rabidly mad as he could be
who thought he was a Bruce of a man by how he spoke
But no man would call him their 'mate,' for you see...
he was a mongrel dog who pretended to be a bloke
The dingo who called himself 'Keefer,' was all talk-no bite
got caught chasing a galah (chicken) for want of a feast.
But ol' Keef got clawed by the rooster night after night
He was a drongo (fool) who thought he was a beast.
"Crikey!" I heard real men screaming from inside a bar
when they laughed at Keef wearing daks (male trousers)
He tucked his tail and ran from feathering with hot tar
"Get out, ya Hoon (hooligan)! We scorn rabble-rousers!
Keef was a loud mouth when he was blotto (inebriated)
Downing snag (sausages) and guzzling frothy (beer).
Tried to mate with a sheila (girl) but he'd been castrated.
Fair dinkum (that's true). He was neutered last year.
Some say he likes wearing female clothes, they swear.
He's such a hostile dingo, telling them to 'Rack OFF!'
But there's pictures of him in knickers (ladie's underwear).
and some of him before his little stub was sawed off.
I guess sometimes he gets to feeling clucky (maternal)
cuz he uses phrases like 'mother this and mother that.'
Looks like he'll end up some place heated and infernal
Dingo Keef's punishment for hurling all those brickbats.
A rabid dingo, that fool proved to be a fizzer (fizzled out)
His rants and threats to beat guys up were just a joke,
who was well-known as a bogan (hick) and a social lout
who accepted the truth. Ol' Keefer is now socially 'woke.'
Last I heard of him, he'd taken up with a mate called, Roo.
Another misfit creature roaming around in the outback
He played for hours each night, blowing into his digeridoo
because he couldn't stand Keef's braggin' and talkin' smack.
Roo felt relieved when the dingo, kinky Keefer disappeared
The one who'd been called 'the blunder from down under.
He'd mumbled for days about Milton Creek and Roo feared
that dingbat dingo would try to tear that town asunder.
Categories:
mumbled, character,
Form:
Rhyme
She jiggled like pink jello into the store
with platinum blonde hair and red rouge on her face
the shoe clerk mumbled it must be 1950's day
watching her strut around with a hanky made out of lace
She said hi hon you know why I'm here
he replied let me guess, you wear a size eight
she said well if the shoe fits I might as well wear it
and maybe later if you get lucky you can be my date
So she scouted around and found a pair
and sat down with tight dress flair
he thought to himself I think I'm in love with Mae West
looking her up and down and at her chest
He gently took her foot and slid her old high heel off
his hand sliding up and starting to cruise
she batted her eyelashes and said oh keep it coming, she toyed
saying, why don't you come up and see me later big boy
With that he winked and slid the new heels on
watching her walk around like Mae West
she said you know I know you like me big boy
but my eyes are up here and not on my chest
With that he gave her a long wolf whistle
and said you know I just can't resist
now stop acting your shoe size sexy
pulling her towards him giving her a passionate kiss
She whispered hon is that your gun
or are you just happy to see me
he said guess what my little chickadee
tonight you can be my Bacall and I'll be your Bogie
With that she left the store with customers galore
staring, whispering and looking aghast
he said out loud, come on... get a life...
I know we're a little kooky, but she happens to be my wife!
2-7-18
Categories:
mumbled, funny love, silly,
Form:
Light Verse
fo'c·'sle /'fohksel/ noun deriv: forecastle
1. the forward part of a ship below the deck, traditionally used as the crew's living quarters.
2. historical: a raised deck at the front of a ship.
With the equinox illuminating a fortnight of recovery
On pelts spread like Ionian jars left askew,
My flame-keep sparked alight against the doldrums of
Greed. Stagnant and fetid.
My bark beats out a call stretched
Skin-tight over the sea’s virgin core
And sets trust aflame.
Ashes collected into the collated casks and
Corked with animus, Moon Girl pounded on.
Drumming a dirge on the tanner's own flesh.
Pounding the seed of echoing hope.
Pounding the corpus beat of life anew.
Those echoed my own harmony and emptied my ears.
My tunes would now be true and crisp.
My struggle to syncopate the middle eight
Was like on the saltchuck the time before.
Before we crossed the bar,
Breakers chasing, pounding aft of stern.
Now in the glow of the coal oil lamp
Sat The Dane who came to trade.
He mumbled a Chinookian curse and winced.
He sensed my mariner's cred, how I lit my smoke;
Muscle memory and addiction married in my subconscious.
But His eyes would never sense the venomous flow
Of the seabreak distant,
Like hounds baying to the highway of stars
And up to the dunes ran with phosphorescent faces
Fermenting the blackness.
Hell-hounds bounding.
Lungs pounding.
Driving on.
River may lick Disappointment’s shanks
But Drake’s gold remains unfound.
The cavities carved along the capes
Echo an emptied ethos and sapped spirit
Which salal and sage cannot clense.
Walk with me now Sister Ilchee.
Beat your dirge
Along the pock-marked ports of plunder
Laid before the flattened corpse of
Ebbing freedom found.
Categories:
mumbled, boat, endurance, history, native
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
She was looking my way, I had nothing to say,
Though I'd dreamed that this day would transpire;
With her beaux all around, why would she look at me
With such interest and playful desire?
She was heading my way, what on earth would I say
To the prettiest girl in the town?
And how could I bear all her sunshiny hair
Or her eyes, speckled golden and brown?
I thought, "This is the one! Mercy, here comes the sun!
If I stare, I shall surely be blind:
Though I be somewhat plain, if she choose to remain
I'd be last in the county to mind."
Then my eyes turned away as she sweetly did say
Pretty phrases I cannot recall;
And I mumbled replies, though they might have been lies,
Since I cannot remember at all.
Of that bright day in May but one thing I can say,
She was dressed in a soft yellow gown;
'Twas a lemony hue that was buttery too,
And with eight shiny pearls buttoned down.
Then I asked if she'd dance at the Cunningham's manse,
At the ball on the fourteenth of June;
She replied, "Oh, how good! Yes, I certainly would;
And I hope I shall talk to you soon."
What a wonderful day! Still with nothing to say
I just whistled an old happy tune;
Having primrosy dreams of sweet peaches and cream
As I counted the hours of June.
(Written February 12, 2014)
Categories:
mumbled, beauty, first love, flower,
Form:
Quatrain
It was way after eight, at the Cat in the Hat.
The whole plaice was swimming, quoth the mackrel to sprat.
Though the milk was upset, she still stifled her cry,
So sorry i spilt you, mumbled poor humble pie.
My joints are the bees knees, squealed the honey roast ham,
And the apple agreed, she was better than spam.
Then red herring denied, he had something to hide,
Like a small Bombay duck, is a fish that is dried.
While tasty choux pastry, bared her soul to an eel,
The mock turtle announced, i believe i am veal.
And the ice cube was crushed, as she played fast and loose,
For an orange refused, to be part of fruit juice.
As warm rhubarb crumble, melts in custards embrace,
The sour gooseberry tart, wails she's taking my place
Then a voice in my head, spoke it's all fantasy.
Your table awaits you, said the waitress to me.
I glanced at the menu, it was all a la carte.
I said, bring me everything, but let's start with that tart.
Categories:
mumbled, imagination, nonsense,
Form:
Couplet
Tussled hair, bruised knees, toothless, lop-sided grin;
Ma is so thankful her dear little imp wasn't born a twin!
She likes things running smoothly, like a finely-tuned violin,
But her little boy marches to his own drum, much to her chagrin!
To begin the day he feeds his breakfast oatmeal to the dog.
Opening a drawer, Ma lets out a screech, finding a slimy frog!
He encourages a fight between Rusty the dog and Simba the cat,
And 'round and 'round they go, in raucous heated combat!
The preacher made his periodic call and settled in his seat.
A whoopee cushion made a lewd noise, startling him to his feet!
He mumbled a hasty good-by, and headed for the door,
As the little imp, choking with laughter, rolled upon the floor!
Ma made treats for her bridge club, saying they were not his fare,
But on bridge day, lo and behold, she found the cupboard bare!
He pestered his little sister unmercifully with never any slack!
"Mommy", she screamed, "he put a slimy worm down my back!"
Tho' he drives his long-suffering mother up the wall,
She wouldn't trade him for any other little boy at all.
After his prayers at bedtime and seeing his sweet, angelic smile,
Ma plops in her chair seeking repose from another daily trial!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
mumbled, childhood, little sister,
Form:
Rhyme
A solo pilot, lost in snow,
in a jagged mountain pass.
His eyes are trained upon each tree,
and the shape of each crevasse…
In an open-cockpit time machine,
the winter wind does howl,
but a mighty fire’s burning bright,
inside the engine cowl.
The fog and flurry blinding him,
he searches for a trail,
running late, and miles behind,
he’s employed to fly the mail.
He looks for clues to lead him back,
like ancient, sunken wagon tracks.
A mumbled cuss, then shouts out loud,
he’s heard that mountains hide in clouds…
Now’s the time to pay the toll,
for conversations with his soul.
One way in, and one way out,
it’s true that mountains hide in clouds.
Copyright © 2013
Categories:
mumbled, adventure, conflict, courage, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Our lady cashier, Karen, daydreamed again
right past me in a nearby grocery ,
her fingers fumbling over my selection
of cold cuts, bagels,and lemon powder
while a haze seemed
to grasp her thoughts under some frozen
moment of autistic innocence
like a crystallized trance.
So I followed her inside a dreamscape
while Karen narrated
this countless parade of jays hovering
above a sea of orange dahlias . In a flash,
she mumbled about Einstein, asking this man,
" Oh, did your growth hormone intake work
based on relativity's law?" Gently, from a distance ,
she relayed how Joplin wept, tending
children in a monastery--- an abstract recording
through Karen's uncut version of life's tinges.
Faltering in her own universe, she lisped a melody,
"If this were truly heaven, then death
would be it's own reward." And this lady
gently fixed her tidy uniform,
then peered into my eyes ...unseen by anyone
except myself in the din of late afternoon.
" Oh it's you, "Will that be paid in cash,
through coupons or credit card?" Smiling,
I gave some money and walked away...
moved by this rare instance of naturalnesss.
11/28/2016
The Best of James Tate Contest..Space Cadet
Categories:
mumbled, dream, imagery,
Form:
Narrative
late at night
a shepherd
woke his wife
I saw...heard
angels sing
in the sky!
it’s the wine
she mumbled
or UFOs!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In this case UFOs is 2 syllables
Contest by Charles Messina
Placed 2nd
© 18th December 2018
Categories:
mumbled, funny,
Form:
Haiku
No sounds are made, her world is hushed
She dances in darkness to music not heard
Imagines things that to us would be absurd
Lives in tranquility, where nothing is rushed
Through Braille she lives with fingers as guide
She weaves through valleys, mountains high
She'll never have to witness a loved one die
No evil to see or hear, no lies she will hide
No sorrow do I feel for her lack of the gifts
we take for granted, ones we abuse; misuse
She's better off not seeing life's colorful hues
or the black and white of men who cause rifts
She builds her castles without moats of fear
Soars in the clouds upon gold and silver wings
In mumbled but beautiful voice, she sings
She makes me aware that angels are here
Categories:
mumbled, innocence,
Form:
Rhyme
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Think of me if tear drops, like pastel pearls, kiss your soft smooth cheek
and the music stops, when the wind no more whistles across the ocean dune
for when the sweetness of your song, your tender lips will no longer speak
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon.
Think of me, when the fragrant petal adorns your satin wind fingered hair
far beyond the rough waters that life's long illusions have swept through you
to a place where vining arbors grow, Plumeria, Spider Lilly, and flowers rare,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew.
Think of me on summer's day when melting sun warmed our cares away
like the breeze that caressed your glowing skin, here today, gone too soon
leaving only fading memories and dark lonely flashes of yesterday,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn.
Think of me when the verse no longer rhymes and my words lose their meaning
for the muse that once lived inside of me, now, is but a curse of relic rune
which drowns in mumbled eternity, no voice for love nor life's intervening,
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Remember me in the cold of winter past, when rain drenched our skin and soul,
clouds of pain like dagger's edge, against each finger my warm hands would be,
with exhaled breath I tried my best but the rain kept falling and took its toll,
before pastel sunsets untimely death, as thoughts weigh kind, please, think of me
...for I'll be thinking of you.
04/18/2019
Categories:
mumbled, remember, romantic,
Form:
Rondeau Redouble
At sunrise newlyweds wandered from camp
hiking into unfamiliar terrain.
And now they have to spend the night in the
desert despite their unbearable thirst.
The sweltering heat of the day lingers
as the sun sets just behind the mountains.
And darkness merges with inky shadows
pooling deep within the cooler crevices.
They dosed off to the mumbled whisperings
of windblown sands rippling across the dunes.
And though their canteen was nearly empty
there had to be water somewhere out there.
Her husband asleep she filled his canteen
and took the empty one to find water.
And although she swore no tears, they still came
not for her but for the man left behind.
Wakened by the searing kiss of the sun
he realized the selfless thing she’d done.
And though he looked for her she was long gone
so he followed her tenuous footsteps.
He found her collapsed, exhausted and near death
and they shared the few drops of water left.
Yet in the midst of death's dusty embrace
angels in helicopters rescued them.
Categories:
mumbled, angst, death, imagery, love,
Form:
Blank verse