Best Mumbles Poems
Liquid Heaven
A feast for my womanly inner beast!
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring my hands, you oint my head
With your fingers locked in my hair of red
You -I call Master!
Begging for forgiveness, in a position of love
My words are bashing with one stuttering sound
Moaning & Moaning,
As you make my head spin like a merry-go-round
Craving for you to unleash a liquid heaven sound
My body speaks and mumbles a language meant for you
A touch of intimacy, that lathers up like liquid glue
Sticky but, yet so compelling
My tongue slips silent beloved words of joy into the air
You play the master of this dark solid room
This dungeon's all I consume
You engage me, to provoke you with everything I got
Yelling, please master don't ever stop!
At this moment, I yearn for excitement
To feel the arousing sensation of your presence
That melts me and chill me with a flow that does not kill
I'm your thinker
Your muse and poet
You are my composer creating liquid tunes
Come here and expresses the hardness of your boldness
I confess to you my love
You are all I'm dreaming of
You drive your hands all over
Reaching every steamy spot
Encourage me to stimulate your mental needs
You are the master withholding a liquid element
In me, you release fluids that hit like a silent tide
A desire that comes with a full force of the fire inside
I crave for the taste of your lips
Your hands on my hips
Your fingers with a tight sensual grip
I dedicate my heart and my lust
To get lost within every push of your trust
Like a treasure deep underneath the sand
I'm addicted to the feelings of your command
Your hazel eyes are the sunrise
You bring out the obsession,
And my sweet tooth temptation
Like the moon above a misty night
Seducing me in every way in a poetic write
YOU, MY LOVE!!!
Your liquid heaven is the beginning-
-Of my delicious delight!
by: PD
**A sweet Dedication To My Babe**
Categories:
mumbles, body, happiness, heaven, lust,
Form:
Free verse
Abandoned in the fifties after the war
A freight elevator stuck between floors
Obsolete machinery, splintered old chairs
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
Dead air presses down, stifling and thick
Something still dwells behind one of those bricks
Curled up in a ball, it waits for me there
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
A musty gray vapor that whispers my name
It seeps through the wall and creeps to my brain
It sighs and it groans as my soul is laid bare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
It mumbles and moans and drones of ancient tombs
Of claustrophobic closets and dim, hollow rooms
I cry out for help, echoes answer my prayer
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
The ghost of my lonely, my lost and alone
My hopeless and helpless, my can't go back home
It's looking at me now with a dull, vacant stare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
Categories:
mumbles, dream, me, mystery,
Form:
Kyrielle
"When returning love, becomes to Late"
Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly
Sending her soul
A free feeling,
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate
Too long she waited,
She's not hungry, her heart self healed
3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name
SKAT
Categories:
mumbles, absence, cry, desire, feelings,
Form:
Alliteration
Cold Monday morning
He mumbles under his breath
Car engine stutters
As he turns the key in vain
Temperature is rising.
----------------------------------
Written ~ 20th March, 2015
Contest: Tanka 2
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed: 4th
Categories:
mumbles, morning,
Form:
Tanka
His mind is dark,
like a night sky without stars.
Doubt sits upon his shoulders,
poking at his face,
irritating his mind,
interrupting his thoughts,
outrunning his words -
laughing at him hysterically.
Demons slay his self belief,
echoing like mountainous valleys.
Playing with his insecurities.
Manic voices vibrate in a percussion of shrieking,
like jesters juggling with his sanity.
Sweaty palms and heavy feet,
leave his tongue cemented,
like a block of concrete.
Curtains ascend slowly.
Microphone has no mercy.
Silence awaits,
as audience anticipate.
His petrified eyes attempt
to ignore hundreds of faces,
focusing at him.
He fumbles and mumbles
apologises and starts again.
Closes his eyes,
to find his special, sacred place.
His hidden spirit roars, as audience gasp.
His soul rises like king Arthur's sword,
releasing the thunder, trapped inside.
Doubt plummets to the ground.
His words strike like lightening,
defeating demons into silence.
Audience applaud in elation.
For a moment he smiles,
but then doubt and demons re-emerge.
Bullying his self esteem,
murdering his short lived joy.
He sits in silence,
wondering what is the point...
Simple Musing
Silent One
25 July 2020
Categories:
mumbles, allusion, emotions, self,
Form:
Free verse
Kittens In The Barn
He stops and removes his boots before opening the door. He enters the kitchen and smells the familiar aroma of morning coffee.
"Breakfast's ready, have a seat. How're the kittens" his wife asks.
"Damn cat" he says. "Should have run her off when she showed up last year". "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted". "Nothing but a nuisance is all she is". "Now got all those little ones running around". "I hate cats".
She gives him his plate and pours him a cup of coffee. He hungrily digs in, sopping up
his eggs with a warm biscuit. He tips his cup and pours some coffee in his saucer,
blowing on it to cool it off. "Damn cat" he mumbles.
When finished, he carries his dishes to the sink, rinsing them and setting them aside.
When her back is turned he quickly grabs the saucer and stuffs it in the pocket of his
bibs. "I'm going to milk the cows he says". "Take care" she calls, pretending not to
notice. In another moment he is gone.
He grabs his stool and bucket and sets to milking, the warm liquid quickly consuming the
container. He rises and walks into a distant stall. Bending down, he pulls out the
purloined saucer and fills it from the bucket in his hand. He places it beside the
squirming litter and watches as they stagger to its brim.
"Damn cat" he mutters. "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted".
Categories:
mumbles, animals, people
Form:
Narrative
I wish for days past
and yearn for that kind of love...
and the wind whispers
I wish upon the stars at night and hunger to go back, back to when things were beautiful in my world. As a child I walked hand in hand with father into nature and he taught me all he knew. I miss that. Mother taught me all she knew about the flowers in her garden, now I have my own garden. I know she is up above tending Heavens gardens ! I thirst for days when life was easy when the decay of humanity was far away in my childish mind and I only cared about dolls and storybooks ...
the wind takes my hand
come it mumbles to my soul ...
take an unknown path
_________________________
April 4, 2021
Poetry/Modified Haibun/Wish
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1343-878-04
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (Apr 6)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 04/05/2021
First Place
Categories:
mumbles, introspection,
Form:
Haibun
So arid this desert....
where the tumbleweeds blow,
and the snake makes his nest;
not a dry deed could wet the lips of desire,
and raise from dead things ---- life
with war and antiquity ----
The mummy cannot speak....
but mumbles evil ----
'Gold! Gold!'
....'til it runs out.....
The 'long' arms of the law
haven't even banged upon the devil's front gate;
the 'laissez-faire' ----
Though the bombs drop like tear(drops)
in the darkest corners of the world,
to picnic on the first day of war,
and gorge upon peace.....
Little Illuminati generals.....
pawns for the great hog upon his throne;
who has waged death upon the whole world,
.....shadows deep (with sable scale)
black dragon keeps his poised tail
to crush the school of man;
To reverse the footprints of Christ,
and the wisdom of Buddha,
and the glorious faith of Mohamed ----
The churches are failing fast for the 'written' word,
and not the fire in the heart;
where God forged wisdom to all men,
And not the scroll which does not breathe,
cannot see,
cannot stop the bombs from dropping.....
For how can all the world preach peace ----
with a pistol 'neath its thickest pillow?
Love has no cause to be afraid,
to mistrust like a nervous wind,
and blow accusations where it may.....
What cannot be harmed has no need to attack,
but sits upon the lap of faith,
assured in its security ----
To build evolution on the lips of children,
for their minds see wonder in God's creations
and hope in the growing,
with little flowers in their soft thoughts.....
and new whims in innocent joy;
We have learned to love what we once could not,
' White Swan Black Swan, ' clemency ----
Equality.... but a nudge she claims the throne,
a Queen most fair to sting the dark dragon eyes,
Where eternity shall not echo his name
nor (all) the children tend his darkling tomb,
for he peered too long into the eyes of the abyss,
with one eye open.....
Sleep dragon! Sleep!
death is upon thee like the night in thy armor!
slip into the caverns of the deep,
and be no more.....
Categories:
mumbles, corruption, courage, hope, war,
Form:
Free verse
*Like Caesar I wrote this in the 3rd person:)
In third person he talks just like Caesar
Stuffing bagfuls of sweets in the freezer
Mumbles loud in his sleep
An appointment can’t keep
Often plucks at his brows with a tweezer.
With false tan he conceals his complexion
In shop windows inspects his reflection
Cracks his fingers and neck
And exclaims ‘What the heck!’
When he drinks has no sense of direction.
He’s allergic to pollen and sneezes
Throwing up at the smell of blue cheeses
Hair extensions he wears
When it’s windy he swears
Swallows tablets in fear of diseases.
He invents and tells lies for no reason
Any week any month any season
Does it all with a smirk
(Yes, that’s also a quirk!)
In a cell he could end for high treason!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
For the Contest “Quirks”
Hosted by Madison Demetros
© 9th February 2018
Categories:
mumbles, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Paris Down Under
I heard the thunder
all the kangaroos hid
children screamed in fear
the witch, her brew asunder
I calmed the innocent
peace is within my sphere
I danced with a Wolfe
Birds took a glance at philosophy
A druid mumbles
give peace a chance
I swallowed a lemon
said are crazy Sheilas in sanity?
Life full of questions
answers fly in the wind
just remember these wise words
ignore the ugly echo's
of skeletons in the wind
Categories:
mumbles, africa, analogy, halloween, paris,
Form:
Free verse
so lovely , yet wearied and worried,
as she looks away with quiet terror
from the sight of the faintest wrinkles
at the corners of her eyes in the mirror;
he finds it silly, this undue anxiety,
as she mumbles about crow's feet
that on her face she dreads to see,
reflection she is uneager to meet;
he assures her they are but laugh lines,
the true traces of real joys, happy times,
just skin-deep hints of deep-seated bliss,
amused, touched she is by this view of his.
Categories:
mumbles, husband, uplifting, wife,
Form:
Rhyme
Here
In this centrifuge of sanctimony
Where I sip the atrophied air of my ancestors
The shipwrecked tide of my unborn children
Angels dangle from a precipice of silence
Strained by strings of a theoretical God
Sung by eyes of defiance
Which navigate the jagged epitaphs below
Searching
For that one sediment of salvation
That one moment of submission
Hoping he will see
His wonders, atrocities, his indifference
To cast a shadow of conviction
Over shivering light
There
Across the inlet where ivory columns crumbled
And modernity now deftly mumbles
Its fleets of fortune baptized
Nigh the bronze dust of golden millennia
Where history lies with its victims
A fugue of fossilized souls
A silent prayer remains
Here
Categories:
mumbles, allegory, angst, faith, history,
Form:
Narrative
Wild little brook in such a hurry
Lifting your face to the sun
Tumbling over the hours and days
Chatting along as you run
Hundreds of tiny glass sail boats
Blinking and glittering by
Before crafty cumulus scoops them away
To moorings way up in the sky
Babble on little brook unrelenting
Casting your watery spells
Murmuring muttering mumbles
The peel of your bubble bells
A flurry of pink blossom petals
Whipped high by a southerly gust
Showers your face in confetti
To alter your pace as it must
Hush now little brook, are you listening?
And can you hear yourself think?
With the dragonflies darting and zipping
Magically gone in a blink
Babble on little brook while we’re sleeping
Determine your course in the dark
And we will awaken tomorrow
To the flute of the meadowlark
Categories:
mumbles, nature, uplifting, water,
Form:
Rhyme
“I love you, dearest daughter.”
Sweet melody of my mother’s care
Along her nurturing, comforting concern
Still reverberates in my heart… always inspiring.
“I love you, darling girl.”
Assuring lyric my Dad voices out
Harmonizing with his lingering presence
Echoes memories of family fidelity, devoid of dissonance.
“I love you, blessed sister.”
Uplifting affirmation of acceptance
Blends with belongingness’ crescendo
While siblings’ cheer prevails as glad reunion-refrain.
“I love you, my Mommy.”
Blissful sound of pleasant staccato
My special son mumbles with triumph-glee
Midst his sign language rhythm of pure affection.
“I love you*, my child.”
Such is eternal music to my ears
Indeed, a gracious song from God, my Father
Soothing my soul, admonishing my faith, empowering my spirit.
*Jeremiah 31:3 “The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.”
February 14, 2019
2nd place, "Music to my Ears" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 2/16/2019.
Categories:
mumbles, appreciation, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Free verse
He stumbles on the subway
Initially I cringe
I'm put off by the way he smells
From alcoholic binge
He mumbles incoherent
I start to feel ashamed
I slide my hand in my front pocket
Fumbling for some change
But I don't think he's asking
And now I feel confused
Why suddenly he's deathly still
In contemplative muse
It's then I sensed my pity
That's founded in this thought
This vagrant's smell is rank with failure
Surely mine is not
But just as surely comes the notion
That my thought is wrong
That maybe this man's always been
My equal all along
And in my mind I contemplate
Why I refused to see
My world won't be so bad a place
If love is given free
And so my judgment loosens as
I know not where he's been
A brotherhood in harmony
Absolves the need for sin
I owe this man his right to freedom
The same that he owes me
I spare myself the cost of pain
And simply let him be
And from that moment on I'd ponder
My inner vagrancy
But was it me who smiled at him
Or him who smiled at me?
Categories:
mumbles, brother
Form:
Quatrain