Best Nattering Poems


Premium Member My Cloud


on my-
diaphanous    gossamer filmy cloud-
sumptuous I float woebegone

flowers   far   and below

and bluebirds come
fluttering in the azure sky
twittering and its
beautiful

gossamer filmy cloud-sumptuous

the gobbledygooks with their nonsense
far   and below
and bluebirds come drifting

from the garden and forest they fly
to
my diaphanous
gossamer
         filmy
              cloud-sumptuous

the dullards with their yada yada
far
and
below
come with their hokum nattering

and I
yell    hey you
get off my cloud-
sumptuous     you  you 
nincompoops

bluebirds
twittering and twittering
beautiful
assemblage    of fluttering

whispering   hissing
with meaningless words
you keep off my diaphanous
gossamer    filmy     cloud

oh gentle breeze

             take this dreamer and flower picker
of buttercups    violets
    dandelions
I see them swaying far   and below
                           in the meadows lovely
and I recall the little girl   me
who picked them
                       for mothers kitchen ledge

oh     let me drift     and see far and below
on my
diaphanous   gossamer cloud-
sumptuous    

______________________________
May 28, 2015


Poetry/Free Verse/my cloud
Copyright Protected, ID 05-677-907-28
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, Hey you, get off my cloud
sponsor, Skat, Judged 2015

Second Place

Noise

Sometimes I bellow in despair
at the noise
the noise
the noise, noise, noise
voices nattering
people chattering
my mind is shattering
from the infernal noise
So I reach up to my head
and pull my little brain
into my arms 
soothing it
cuddle it like a puppy
and keep us both
from the light
and the noise noise, noise

Juneteenth

Justice delayed from fringed time frazzled cry
Until the DREAM can heal itself and broken trust
******* shackled minds in the velvet shadows try
Evolving with a nation drunken in bloody lust
Trapped in tragedy of a blurred emancipation line
Edged to the margin of Reconstruction, it tells
Empty enactment lagging that Constitutional hell
Nattering historic lies, blood and tongue dispels
Truth against the moral lie, all brotherhood a shell
Heaven's rich cause stumble in raged hearts to fill.


The Budget Is a Moral Document

What goes into 
caucus and committee
and what comes out 
      of caucus and committee

what dialogue travels 
the halls of Congress
and what dialogue is absent 
      from those consecrated halls

what is debated on 
the floor stays on the floor
and what rises to the ceiling 
      stays on the ceiling

a high wire act in a circus of clowns and puppets
trip over each other to raise money for themselves

what elevates the heavy 
gavel of procedure
and what brings that mighty 
        wooden gavel down

who is written out of trade 
partnership agreements
and who is written into trade
         partnership agreements

what is left out of 
national security legislation 
and what is written
         into security legislation

it has the shape and style and sound and appearance
of democracy but some fingers and toes are missing

cloaked in rhetoric 
and petulant rant representatives
buzz from one special interest 
         flower to the other

pushing debased agendas 
and empty proposals with impunity
unaware that every single meeting 
         and motion and voice

is attached to the life of 
a determined and diligent citizen
dependent upon their 
         conscientiousness and empathy

clichés and bromides shift fast between nattering teeth
ranks close in and capacity for clear hearing thins out

tabloids and blogs are 
the prime sources of knowledge
and gravitas is a slow steamboat 
         on the Mississippi

commentators and pundits 
flap thick wicked tongues
giving lip service to Constitutional 
         principles and purpose

all thriving in a happy 
broadband land where drones 
drop bombs far away as 
         we sleep in peace and comfort

turn up the Wi-Fi 
have another pitcher of brew

no need to ponder the wretched 
who make it possible 
for all of us
to live
© Barry Levy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Far and Below

far and below   you will find-
my favorite poem   written in 
free verse    it is not just the theme

but the style of     eecummings
                               that brings me pride 

love the flow and no capitalization
  and no need for punctuation
    the gaps to create pauses
      the crunched words
        the made up words so silly
                               and wonderful

written-
at a time of cliques and bullying
by a few      faded away
now into nothingness
proud         they did not push me away

so come take a ride
   on my- diaphanous   gossamer filmy cloud
sumptuous
to where      the blue birds sing

______________

my cloud
written may 28, 2015

on my-
diaphanous    gossamer filmy cloud-
sumptuous I float woebegone

flowers   far    and below

and bluebirds come
fluttering in the azure sky
twittering and its
beautiful

gossamer filmy cloud-sumptuous

the goobledygooks with their nonsense
far    and   below
and bluebirds come drifting

from the garden and forest they fly
to
my diaphanous
gossamer
             filmy
                   cloud-sumptuous

the dullards with their yada yada
far
and
below
come with their hokum nattering

and I
yell     hey you
get off my cloud-
sumptuous      you you
nincompoops

bluebirds
twittering and twittering
beautiful
assemblage    of fluttering

whispering     hissing
with meaningless words
you keep off my diaphanous
gossamer    filmy   cloud

oh gentle breeze

        take this dreamer and flower picker
of buttercups     violets
           dandelions
I see them swaying far    and below
                            in a meadow lovely
and I recall the little girl       me
who picked them
                  for mothers kitchen ledge

oh    let me drift   and see far and below
on my
diaphanous    gossamer cloud-
sumptuous

______________________________
November 7, 2015

Free Verse

Written by Broken Wings

For the contest, Your Favorite Poem, sponsor, Judy Konos\

First Place

My Identity

Nattering about the identity
Makes me feel guilty
About all those years I spent
Making everyone happy

Lost somewhere, still searching for myself
I am somewhere lost in this 9 to 5 job
And had no chance left
Than to just sob
Want to become a Poet, a Singer
Trying hard to do what I am Capable
Just somewhere knowing the truth and making myself Extraditable

Its completely unfair with my eyes
As I couldn't make them to stop cry
Just because I can't justify
Doesn't proof my existence
As a consequence of someone who can't just recognise my identity

All of their blanish compliment
Can't just vanish my identity
Instead they lead me to the 
Town of accomplishments

This is how I found myself in the mirror
Unhiding the identity and revealing the secrets
That I used to keep it 
Becoming a conspirer


The Gift of Too Much

“Get lost, I don’t care,” snarled the young wolf disingenuously
The naïve stripling wanted little more than acclaim
With no knowledge of why it continued--
The 
       slow 
              pulsing 
                         of his 
                                  ruby 
                                         vitality 
                                                    into the 
                                                                wounds of others
Which he mistook for his own

One day kind fate bestowed a gift like none else:
A life full to overflowing 
With loving family and meaningful work
There was not one single extra quantum of energy
Work all day, family all evening, sometimes work all night
It all suffered from itself in a lovely, mediocre sort of way

But mostly it clarified
An argument, a stressful day, a worry had a price:
Family time, sleep, energy always the losers
Zero sum, one in, one out, unavoidable
The luxury of care was 
                                  dead.

So when rumors flew pell-mell, as they do 
Like the Wicked Witch’s monkeys
I let them, not pyrrhically hunting them
To their nattering source

And out went the sheep in sheepdogs’ clothing, 
Tissue paper acquaintances by the dozens, 
Card house construct of popularity
and most of all, irrelevant obligations
If you care so little as to be swayed by the winds of rumor
Then that’s how much investment I have in you.
                                                                        Bye.

I’m ironclad when impeccably intact in my integrity
Vulnerable only when I drop below my own equator
To the muck-slinging hyenas that beset us all
For when I am true to me, any harsh judgment of me
Reflects only on the one doing the judging, 
                                                              as I am FREE

This is not to say that I own no bathroom freshener
--To keep the boat afloat, one must diligently look for leaks--
But the double-edged steel of the naked truth 
Is the 
         only defense
And the best nutrient for the garden within
For then and only then am I right with myself and God, 
And free as can be expected 
                                          from the cares of this world

6/9/16
© By Author
For Contest: Rise above it
Sponsor: Becca Teagan

Premium Member Nattering Nabobs of Negativism

(Spiro T. Agnew Looks In A Mirror)

Tea party’s lasting epitaph
The “walking dead” today
Reactionary to the core, 
At home, at work, at play,

All Muslims truly terrorists
Might strike next in my town,
Why try to hide your racist heart
Just greet them with a frown

No stranger ever gain our trust,
They might have ill intent
Sweet Liberty’s scrap turned to rust
And brother love long spent!

Let’s do what we accuse them of
Paint Muslims with one brush
As Donald roasts the temple’s dove
On fires stoked by Rush.

Conservatism blown to hell
By rabid dogs of fear,
Hyena’s on self-righteous right
With blood from ear to ear

True monsters feeding on their own
With public left aghast,
Like mongrels fighting for a bone,
All manners in the past.

How many millions do they need,
The middle class striped bare
The one percent caught up in greed,
Like deer in headlight’s glare!

Oh how can I unravel rhyme
Or trump the devil’s curse
The perils of a warming clime
Though Hell’s fire would be worse.

Republicans can only “No”
Have lost their faith in “Yes.”
The only compromise they know
Is one they won’t confess.

For death to them is Left not Right,
Though they still have two hands
But those who want to be their friend
Must yield to their demands.

For Satan’s taught the Right to fear,
For flesh and not for soul,
What’s safe is maximizing wealth,
Your health is not their goal.

Like bobbleheads they ply their craft
This world is just a frame,
And all they really care about
Is who is left to blame!


Brian Johnston
December 10, 2015

Obsessive Constraints - Part Iii

Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication incorporating connection between anterior cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) greater activity upon basal ganglia, which synoptic description does nothing to alter the predisposition to ingress of uncontrollable imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical fixation particularly during onset of puberty, when an emotional kamikaze nose dive at the nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow of me former self nowhere tubby found on account of deadly symbiotic relationship asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milkmaids, or rather pressing said resources sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous, and horrendous self destructive antics, where ballistic charges drugged eminent domain former nerve cell size occupants, thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility with pride fullness and prejudice on par with dousing one with an opiate that completely upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly, and managing productively versus expending precious time and energy self absorbed into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions, manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality got embedded within the neurological interstices, which even as of this moment hound me akin to wild beasts circling ever closer to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.

Another Day Another Accursed Blank Screen

Another Day...Another Accursed Blank Screen

Ma wink'n and blink'n
     mind nod yet awake,
     nor insights keen,
asper ho hum usual, this
     (day-glo bull leave
     me you) after noon,
     (October thirtieth
     two thousand and eight teen),

mine myopic brown
     marbled occipital orbs
     fixate upon a
     lone blinking cursor -
     hooping such intense stare
     will magically glean
a divine comedy,
     or even mediocre

     shaky spear writ tragedy, none
     the less letting thoughts
     glom (cess) pool like
     into some elusive essence,
     finding me madly chasing
     (feebly, lamely, queerly
     and ridiculously
     likened to a teen

age paramour) intriguing,
     nattering, and wordlessly
     spellbinding notion
     all the way to Abilene,
     perhaps metamorphosing
    into a topnotch 
     poem (ska lean),
swiftly tailored harried

     style even out rivaling
     the best newsy
     Lake Woebegone fabulist
     (formerly Nordic European)
scribes, that juiced might earn
     me some crisp 
     legal tender green,
yet impetus to write,

     NOT predicated on ram
     ping up checking account,
     which primary queen
tis essential money source
     of mine to pay bills
     appears extremely lean,
and thus apologize if
     any hint of desperation

     (PULL EASE pledge to
     Matthew Scott Harris charity)
     seeps extemporaneously typing
     this poetic expression,
     when financial resources
     picked bone dry clean,
and me fanciful
     thoughts cannot help

     wishing for miraculous
     intervention tub bring,
     a raft of smiley faces
     tomb eye gentle mien
such as receiving
     an anonymous bajillion
     dollars donated (tummy)
     from tennis scene legend

     (in her own mind)
     aery Billy Jean
King, whose near
     exhaustive earnings -
     at least compared
     to thy germane mein kampf
     (accrued during - her mist
     starry re:us horse sing around)

     straw berry fields
     forever hay day
     with tangerine trees, 
     and marmalade skies
     completing tennis 
     (tense) backdrop against
     engendered match with 
     the late Bobby Riggs.

Guaranteed Soporific

Most salient benefit
anorexia nervosa wrought
excerpt, qua gut tease 
burg address er...
four decades and seven years ago
plus countless hours, days, weeks...
elapsed with nary morsel

passing between two lips
starving lovely bones
dedicated grueling proposition
suicide knows no equal,
where puny pubescent (me)
engaged with self 

consuming civil war
testing whether that
psychologically afflicted lad
willingly conceived during
heated passionate lovemaking
'tween young married couple

copulated, created and begat
one scrawny son
flailing his spindly limbs
arm n ham heard skinny legs
still generates risible outbursts
analogous to firearms bursting

nearly met his demise
wit dem dim eyes of his,
though nursed courtesy mother
licensed practical medical practitioner
livingsocial severely undermined,
even presenting disunion
at this moment

peudo soldier of misfortune,
though quasi silver lining
stitched into corporeal being
nsync with coaxing
increased devotion to curry
lame literary accomplishments
until gratefully dead.

No meal taken until task
witnesses completed writing assignment
usually poetically kindled
flummery accomplished
hungry artist hyper aware
literary creativity bubbles forth

accentuated, buttressed pronounced
attempt crafting epistle,
endeavor to write heightened,
when sustenance withheld
body electric induces nattering nabob,
(yours truly) thwarts appetite

digestion process consumes energy
buzzfeeding grumbling beast
within mine belly
predictably, immediately, automatically
satiatiation consummated
to appease nagging wife
induces without fail mine glorious
eyes blink shut tight.

Doctors Particularly Biomedical Engineers

Doctors (particularly biomedical engineers)...
really trolley train hard to keep track of patients

Eye tell ya we (spuds)
pulled up stakes after four yar
and zero scores ago living in Bryn Mawr
salutary heart and lungs figurative
storied Main Line Health medical network
latter part of June tooth thousand seventeen

approximately July first
same year bidding au revoir
bid good riddance account
to slumlord - hood did spat and spar
moved to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
unsafe to ride bicycle without handlebar

economical, geographical, practical...
subjected by Grosse and Quade tyrannical czar
dom low income facilities housing
nattering nabobs of nihilism whose intellect subpar
candidates vetted by Jaclyn Geiger registrar
courtesy nepotism unexceptional manager

thanks be to her papa, she drives fancy car
unlike this pauper and the missus
limited to schlep near and not far
afforded by rattletrap motorcar,
no driving prohibitive number of miles,
crossing sketchy territory warning signs

picturing dangerous avatar,
(especially during inclement whee thar)
determining risk to forego
top manic kin Michelin
money grubbing cannibalistic
surgeon's earning equivalent silver star,

or comparable civilian rating touting specialists
while bonafide topnotch indivisible tailors swifty
stitch ink, viz tattoo back parlor shop whar
exemplary Patients Matter Always
buzzfeeding, inoculating, kickstarting...
healthy medical network,

hobnob, kibitz, schmooze...
drown lackluster lovelife at the bar
parting paramour with such sweet sorrows par
for the course during pouring rain how bizarre
necessitated our lucky find locating physicians
supreme nsync with Google high reviews

receiving, scoring, nabbing,
incorporating... truevalue re: vector and scalar,
we veteran trooper seasoned renters
luckily blessed chance
cost us pennies on the dinar
general bang for buck amazingly
found yours truly strumming his air guitar

pleasantly situated among picturesque poplar
resort within Skippack Village, a tourist
mecca for devout or 
secular gourmandizing, earning
catering and acquiescing savoir
ole mighty faire Benjamin
legally tendering expensive bazaar.

Pacific Papa Pedals Perspicacious Persiflage Panacea

the following sloop of words rowed and towed together as they 
came into my periscoptic poop deck with slight emendation 
from thee oar ridge in hull.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
along the atlantic, bruitted by cavalier indiscriminate jerry rigged 
salient seaboard; adequately buffered, coccooned domicile, eman
cipated from gobstopping hectors, insulated joyfully, kept lodged 
within this singular one bedroom apartment (courtesy sans subsi
dized housing facility named highland manor apartments); acqui
escence concerning everyday generalities harbors illustrious kick
starting mindfulness; oasis offering outlier pad; partitioned pathe
tic quintessential respite spans the vast webbed wild world; yoyoing 
between deathly diabolical forces gripping heinous heavyhandedness, 
imperiling, jettisoning kindled linkedin lumpenproletariat, malfeasance 
masquerading mockery monger muckrakers - namely narcissistically, 
nee nefariously, odious, pernicious quotidian rapacious treasonous 
ugly viciously xenophobic yikyaking zealots; augments bittnerness, 
cravenness, depravity, encourages fragmented government, highjin
xing investment; joint kindness kombats lambasting liberal minded 
nattering netizens, obliging ogres poisoning, pollutanting; putrification 
quality qualm queasy; quintessential rampant, re: reckless reigning 
rogue ruination, sanity sapped, senselessness sic smiling spoiliation 
stance swindled; tabloid tacitly tendered thru timbered torqued tutelage; 
unfettered usurpation violates voices, vultures willingly wring xing 
yawping zest axed; before catastrophe dedicated earthlings forced 
gallantly; harmonizing heft, holstering, hoping, humanizing instant
aneous juice kegs liquidate manicical Messerschmitt motoring mow
ing natural nemesis; nickleback nincompoops, nodding nonstop op
pressing peoples pinterest, quashing rift righteousness relinguished, 
sacred sangfroid sapped slowly, totalitarianism trotted tubby universal 
vested worsted xfrayed yarn.

Premium Member My Evil Twin

Recently been accused of nattering
Guess old age has finally caught up
But when I stop to think about it
I've been nattering since I was a pup

I'm really the only one listening
So I've really got a built-in crowd
Amazing are the stories I tell myself
Sometimes I talk out loud

People often stop and stare
Like I'm some strange kind of kook
When having conversations with myself
Most passersby get spooked

Take me or leave me it's who I am
I'm happy in this skin that I'm in
Can't change the person I am inside
Perhaps I'm my evil twin

Premium Member Springsound

A flood of grackles,
black-leafing the tree
who seem to’ve forgot
that its not
Winter;
it’s Spring and everything
is about to flower.

Eva says they are starling
and they may be.
She says they crowd the uncrowded 
barebranch trees and blot out
the sun and blot out the Spring’s sounds.

The nattering and chirp-chattering
is a great April chorus for us,
down here...in the frostbit grass.
The ear is rung like a town bell
as thoughts are misshapen and lost.

A woodpecker, somewhere
is into his or her daily
mind-numbing rat-a-tat-chattering;
Unburying dreams, dreams in the heartwood.
It’s the 16th day in a row.
Or seventh.
Or 38th.
(It was once that I could count.)

A neighbor’s rooster breaks the night,
breaks the dawn,
breaks the morning
wide open.
An earful all day (break)

The horses whinny in
their morning mare-compare-mare-ing
then find their way to their place
in their paddocks.

The air is abound with sound.

Three geese,
circle over.
From dawn’s waxen East
feathering past a flaxen South
gaggling to the black sun West
they klaxon forth to nourishing North.

   and there is no hearing, now...
not even
a single starling
(If ever there were such a thing.)

 Not now, not even -
a single peck of wood.
 Not now, not -
a single cockle is doodled or done.
 Not a single mare is heard from her herd.

   and there is no hearing, now...
not even
a single grackle
(If ever there were such a thing.)

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