Best Mumblings Poems
You are a thorn, borne deep in my heart
The prick that sticks me with each breath I take
A tether, whether I want to be bound to you or not
The flame I blame for burning holes in my soul
Droning chants are rants lingering in my mind
Rumblings and mumblings within my sad breast
The wrong kind of song written for those in love
My eyes sting when I try to sing the sweet lyrics
Broken vows spoken; words shattered like glass
The refrain of my pain keeps wounds from healing
Sorrowfully shaken and forsaken, I had to walk away
Your pretense was immense, the shame of your fall
Love was spoiled, foiled because of your weakness
Your reason for treason, based on a foundation of lies
The suppression of your confession has taken a toll
How cruel to fool the one who gave you her heart
Categories:
mumblings, pain,
Form:
Verse
I felt our trouble brewing like a raging wind
and I, helpless to escape its stinging wrath.
In long dark corridors where he had sinned
I watched him crawling down an arcane path.
His murmurous mumblings I could not hear,
though echoed in a gravelly sonorous voice.
I knew instinctively there was much to fear.
In the surreal moment I had to make a choice.
When he woke on that cloudy thundering morn
I broached the problem that he could not defend.
His gorgeous green eyes were infused with scorn
and I cried knowing we'd reached the bitter end.
~ ~ ~
I heard he keeps pretending everything is just fine
but I know his life is still ruled by the raging winds.
His dazzling smile is a façade that does not shine
when he looks in a mirror, for he sees his own sins.
If my dream had not become so frightening and vivid
my vision may not have found a way to make me see
the Mr. Hyde he becomes when his temper turns livid.
His next innocent victim could have possibly been me.
__________________________________________
4/24/16 MR's More Than the Eye can See Contest
Categories:
mumblings, dark, dream, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Senility
The mumblings of day’s gone bye
A living memory of a life ending
Unable to recapture the joy of time and place
The meanderings of a mind wandering,
Through labyrinths of jumbled memories.
The treasures of a lifetime soon exposed;
Silent, tolerant nods, as heads turn away
Not understanding the inner cry for recognition
A life well spent, vulnerable now to senility and time.
Shaking, sagging, arthritic creaking bones,
Holding within the tears and joys of yesteryear.
Childhood with its anticipation, grasping for life.
The fruitless dreams of idealistic youth,
The reality of living, the striving to survive.
Tired old eyes that tell of tragedy and hope,
Mumblings of faded memories and shattered dreams;
Family, friends, passed away, forgotten ones alive,
In a shoe box of memorabilia, of all that used to be;
Faded photos, letters, cards, a child’s lock of hair.
Faces constantly dutifully drifting in and out,
Strangers attending, no time for understanding,
To offer solace to the remnants of a life already spent.
In the midst of living, why are we so unaware?
How delicately life is balanced, years set all awry
In the ramblings of a bag of bones, senility and time.
Categories:
mumblings, time, life, life, time,
Form:
Free verse
The Man In The Moon
Follow the crooked path
through a frosted gate
And hide in the shadows,
where the streets are straight,
Look for me in a doorway,
it's there that I will wait,
Marooned in the same darkness
that will, one day, be my fate.
Imagine a light shimmering
and distant voices muttering
As I carve the brick built skies
with flimsy silver guttering,
And there I am, a halo'd face
upon a heart, a fluttering,
Imbetween the chimney stacks,
gasping, choking, spluttering.
I am the mumblings of a lunatic
forgetting what to recall,
Memories of you distorting
despite the thrill of it all,
I am lost among the shadows
that are holding up the wall
So I'll pause for a moment
to let another empty bottle fall.
As it rolls down the sober kerb
like an eerie, muffled scream,
I hear my own hollow footsteps
echoing in a dream,
I am the man in the moon
and upon your eyes I beam,
Lighting up discarded wishes
just to watch your essence gleam.
Appearing and disappearing
in the windows and in puddles
Where all my loves once gathered
in their cruel and taunting huddles.
Where I am often found confused
in a myriad of muddles
Suffocating, like an unwanted child
in a world of loveless cuddles.
My eyes will still shine as bright
as a winter's fearful stare,
Reflecting in my melancholy
as if I wasn't there,
Not wanting to embarrass you
nor indeed, do I mean to scare,
Just to blind you with my love
if I could only dare.
Yet my icy breath is hesitant,
the dawn has come too soon,
To whisper to you sweet-nothings
or to catch you if you swoon,
And there you are, such beauty,
in your summer bridal cocoon
Never to love, nor know my name,
I am only the man in the moon.
© RJVHorton2015
Categories:
mumblings, longing,
Form:
Rhyme
1am: The clock strikes like bolts of lightning as my brain rapidly
fires neurons creating a torturous play field in my tired mind.
Pangs of loneliness hit me like a full speed train.
My bed feels emptier than the Sahara, colder than Antarctica.
Sleep evades me at this hour.
2am: I am nestling in my bed, tossing and turning, longing for
a restful sleep.
Calmness of impassioned night haunts me in my awakeness.
Wild fantasies flow through my mind provoking my sensuality
as i slide bare legs against the sheets.
I curl my arms under the pillow like apostrophes to imitate
an epic fail pillow talk with my thoughts.
Mulling over love; aching and craving for romance.
My fabric rustles, tugging onto the heat on my nude skin
as my body starves of slumber sweet.
3am: I am my own philosopher.
Taking twisted turns with life’s ironies and experiences.
A late night’s discontent filled with mind blowing debates,
trick questions, mumblings, pointless gibbers and quizzes.
Drifting in and out of the blank, endless room –displaying
sights and seeking answers.
Staring at the ceiling in the vertigo of the night.
Watching the steady accusations of the clock, and the
long gaze of the wall judging and mocking me.
I am plagued by the nagging thoughts, past recollections
roam the noisy streets of my mind.
Sleep still enervates me.
4am: My eyelids remain agape, my mind is agitated but my
soul accepts the enthralling path of uninterrupted
consciousness.
Time drips like a leaking bathtub faucet –flooding my
mind and reminding me of my sleep debt.
Bored, i rummage through my archives trying to dust
off yesterday’s verses and fading rhythms- editing
memories and reciting old poems as the world snores.
5am: The galling sound of my alarm summons my day’s routine
like a clarion call for duty.
My night’s sleep was a failed marathon and i must join the
awakening world with a stone face.
Damn Insomnia!
Categories:
mumblings, sleep, spoken word,
Form:
Personification
With her husband still in the Psychiatric Ward following his mental breakdown, she felt the need to go in for a few hard drinks.
With the trunk of his car still full of his belongings thrown out of the house
by his wife, he really had no better place to go.
Her reflection in the mirror behind the bar confirmed the feeling that she had hit rock bottom.
Having not frequented a bar in the twenty years since his son was born,
he wasn’t sure what drink to order.
She didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that travelled down her cheek and dropped onto the top of the bar.
He wasn’t aware that his mumblings were audible to the woman
sitting down two stools away.
“You’ve got that right.”
“I’m sorry … what?”
“You said, ‘Life sucks’, and I agree.”
“Huh – yeah, it sure does.”
The vacant stool between them provided enough buffer to freely dump their souls to a perfect stranger without feeling too imposed upon. Then, finally, he occupied that stool so they could clink together their glasses in a toast to an unfair life.
She climbed out of bed, looked at the hotel clock which displayed the wrong time, and headed towards the shower.
He looked under the covers to confirm that the clothes scattered
around the room were his.
She got dressed without saying a word, looked at him with a sad smile and walked out of the hotel room in a neighborhood she was not familiar with.
He checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls from his wife …
there were none.
Categories:
mumblings, life, sad,
Form:
Narrative
No one can control who seizes their heart,
Who makes it skip and beat so fast.
No one can resist loves grasp like a fist,
So hard to desist, mad mumblings that persist.
LOVE is a bitter pill to take!
No one can control who’s heart they seize,
Who falls for your charms with such ease.
No one can force to love another,
The best they can do, is call them a lover.
TRUTH is a bitter pill to take!
When one seizes your heart but they don’t feel the same,
You can talk all the talk but it will all be in vein.
When they see your good qualities a plenty,
What you feel for them becomes a penalty.
FATE is a bitter pill to take!
When you have someone’s heart but you do not feel the same,
You love them as a friend but it drives you insane.
They have all the potential so it becomes quite essential,
To keep them as a friend with out being condescendtial.
IRONY is a bitter pill to take!
Two people together, great pal’s to the end,
All can be threatened when one wants more, than just a friend.
Testing their friendship, neither one wants it to be lost,
What will happen in the end and indeed, at what cost.
LIFE can be a bitter pill to take!
Categories:
mumblings, friendship, life, loveheart, friend,
Form:
Mutters in the corner,
Halfheard mumblings of conversations,
Uninteresting lives. Dull.
Smoke from tabs mixing with
Cold breath, dancing their escape.
Staring.
Dreaming.
Slate grey walls holding up a shanty roof.
Rain falls, pitter pat
Random thoughts.
Huddle together - apart.
Categories:
mumblings, work
Form:
Free verse
Image of Black Sand & Sand provided by Pixabay.
The Hawaiianism of Ho'oponopono
A word, astir, in undulating waves surges and awash a clear open black shoreline of Hawaii nei, as it recedes in cycles dashing back to an instant, springing forth that word grasped first in mumblings made by a question from what comes later.
Hawaiiana has amongst the narrowed rudiments containing 12 alphabets; 7 consonants; H - K - L - M - N - P - W, plus 5 vowels; A - E - I - O - U. In its wake, Hawaiians have improvised their grammar by accommodating words to include more than one meaning, it is known as, "equivocal". A different way of supplementing their shortfall via letterings is by repeating words, whereto, two aspects emerge, firstly and the most prevalent variant of Hawaiiana repeats is, word pluralization, simply by adding the 's' at the end, sort of speak. Then secondly is word emphasization, or best to be known as, word empowerment.
"Ho'o" is an energetic prefix, in and of itself though insignificant in the Hawaiiana context as a stand-alone word, implying "to make or making". In this example, the base word, "pono", is an equivocal word. In no respective order, first; moral qualities, uprightness, and decency. Second; a clear understanding, completeness, and being thorough. Third; correctly fulfilled, proper procedures, and accuracy. Fourth; prosperity, welfare, benefit, and equity. There remain several meanings that essentially are extensions of the foregoing.
Nevertheless, when the base word is repeated, then "Ho'oponopono" basically means to, "make right a wrong". The Hebrews call it "Kaphar".
Back to mumbling and anticipation as a kid faced up to grownup legs. A worn grimace is yon about pause steadily. Quizzative looks around the room and tempts a peek past the formidable figure that blocks nearly the whole of him. The aged utter clarity, "E pule ho'oponopono kakou", (Let us pray for correcting our wrongdoing), afterward, an amended kid embraces the closing answer, "Ae, ho'omaika'i ia oe", (Yes, victory is yours). On the whims of a pendulum, Ho'oponopono wanes as a learnt man winds a clock up to speed.
2021 May 28
Categories:
mumblings, forgiveness, power, prayer,
Form:
Didactic
tone-deaf
unintelligible
mumblings
escape into the air
like nails spreading
across a chalkboard
causing confused
expressions to spread
across the faces of those
around
break out in an all out
two left footed choreography
the look at me look at me
show has begun
Categories:
mumblings, confusion,
Form:
Lyric
And yet again
It's 3am
Before I crawl to bed,
my eyelids drag
Like airport bags,
My limbs have turned to lead
Again so late
And no dream state,
I'm sure that it must be
Since I've run out
Of wool to count,
The sheep are counting me.
Categories:
mumblings, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Tears... emboss old memories
Reminiscence, floods troubled mind
My eyes... slow leak as floodgates
Fighting nightly tides, that rise to blind
My sorrow drowns an aching throat
The uncontrolled dance of trembling chin
Stinging blur forces eyes tight closed
Salted lash swells tequila rim
And in that moment
Of surrender
Alone... I cry
Alone... midst dancing shadows
Cast by firelight and drifting mind
Fireside cheek... bathes in embers warmth
Whilst outer face no comfort finds
Polar mumblings, the unheard suffering
Self-inflicted, my addictions rain
Souls shingled beach, no stone I leave unturned
I search for comfort, seeking not to blame
And in this moment
Of isolation
Alone... I cry
For a life... raped of colour
That lies opaque Neath shades of grey
To beg for peace of mind... amidst sad sands of time
Where colours Godly, paints final day
I have never wished for my many years
Yet still I fight to suffer more
For the loved ones that I would leave behind
Should I walk through final door
So in this moment
Offer comfort
As I cry
Help soothe this mind
Of bipolar kind
Please God, just try
Categories:
mumblings, cry, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Passion; it fills many hearts
with what it brings to each lover
it slays each lover through
the ear with a love song and
whispers to them in the
night while they sleep
as they dream about their
other halves with smiles playing at
their groggy lips.
as they sleep they whisper
in incoherent mumblings,
"Te amo, te querre amo."
passion is the opposite of the
siren that pulls a disguise
over every man's eyes. Passion
is an angel who guides each lover
to their destined mate; the
lovers who meet eye-to-eye
and face-to-face twindle their
fingers together in an effort to
close the remaining space between them.
into each others eyes they stare,
warming the cold and frigid winter air.
soon, they lean in close, as if having
taken medicine and requesting another dose.
now, they are chest to chest,
breast to breast, and hips to hips
the man leans in, holding his mate at bay
with only his warm skin around her waist.
their noses touch, then after, their lips.
Categories:
mumblings, girlfriend-boyfriend, imagination, passion, romance,
Form:
Free verse
Paper people frayed blowing scattered
Dilapidated faces of stucco and brick
Mumblings of drivel media jargon
While I sketched my eyes with skyline scrapes
Of tomorrow
Televisions smarmy ooze
A toxin injected with neon deception
Voices droning inconsequential clamor
Between shallow breathes of saccharined guile
While I paint my eyes in landscaped snippets
Of yesterday
Moments will mirror lies whispered in ears
A manufactured beauty of unneeded necessities
Singing radio tunes of superior society’s chaos
Spirits dipped in engineered sorrow
While I pencil my eyes with pieces of sky
Of discovery
I escape this modern world...
Categories:
mumblings, imagination, introspection, life, time,
Form:
Imagism
The book lies open
discarded notes
framing the corner
your room so quaint
pictures hang
askew!
You carefully smile
avoiding
guarding
You have learned to guard
a wastepaper basket
full of nothing, so you say
wrinkled corners peak
over the edge
You silently wring your hands
trying to hide
To hide what?
Who you are?
Where you came from?
Your gut wrenching love
spills, your fevered mumblings
You stare at the basket
then turn away
It’s just not good!
Just not good enough
How can you be so sure
if you hide
and, don’t tell the world
Don’t let go!
Don’t ever let go!
Your conscience screams
Your cupboards full
of empty corners
Your fridge unexplored
Your hands cold
And your unwaning love
begging from an impatient
metal Bin
Where perhaps, rejection sits?
Categories:
mumblings, life,
Form:
Free verse