Best Prattle Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Categories:
prattle, animal, children, education, kid,
Form:
Rhyme
Imagine all the people
who trade in human life,
imagine all the reasons
given to this particular vice.
I visualize the rivers
that run with coagulated blood,
I visualize the tyrant
that stir the waters good!
Imagine all the evil
where nightmares are conceived,
imagine all the weepers
locked in harmony.
I visualize a great peace
when man is down and out,
I visualize a yearning
to stir up warring lout!
Imagine all the carrion
fleeing this earthly scroll,
imagine all the zombies
them humans without soul.
I visualize the populous
with only one track mind,
I visualize the despotic master
not too far behind!
Imagine all the wrongdoers
that wait for the morrow,
imagine all the innocent
with aggravated sorrow.
I visualize his disciples
locked in earthly battle,
I visualize all intellect
smitten with ancient prattle!
Imagine all the dreamers
that dream in psycho colours,
imagine all the dead ones
John Lennon and others.
I visualize the sky
that reflect the sombre waters,
I visualize the time
they’ll be no virgin daughters!
Imagine all the children
born with colour blindness,
imagine all the peace
driven by human kindness.
I visualize a new order
maybe for the best?
I visualize the establishment
being put to the test!
Imagine all the people
with lives of eternal bliss,
imagine all the barriers
created when living with this.
I visualize heaven here
in this heathen place,
I visualize the angel
in pure virgin white lace!
Imagine all the new born
scanner pattern at birth,
imagine all of today’s crime
eliminated through death.
I visualize a dossier
of PLC news speak,
I visualize authoritarianism
of every aspect!
Imagine all the cloning
created for human part,
imagine all the respect
donated to this particular art.
I visualize the unscrupulous
desperate for existence,
I visualize the farm of haste
the plough of insistence!
Imagine, Mother Shipton
prophecies all came true,
imagine only one statement fails
the end of the world.
I visualize even then
common sense will prevail.
I visualize only Jesus Christ
will forecast the ultimate end!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
Categories:
prattle, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Poor Little Boy Lost plays a game of peekaboo
Pretending everything in his world is well
Spoiled was his plan for organizing a coup
and now he hopes none of his friends can tell
that he's been evicted as some had predicted
Biding his time, twiddling his thumbs in a cell
The entry door is locked. It's safe and secure
He's a cast away... on the outside, looking in
How much longer can he possibly endure
Is Little Boy Lost maybe missing kith and kin?
No one is listening to his babble and prattle
He wears the sorrowful look of sad chagrin
There was another sighting, just yesterday
when again he knocked on the playroom door
Not being allowed entry is the price to pay
for returning seeking praise with another encore
Bitterness smolders inside the blighted apple
where the wiggling worm is rotting the core
He was dragged off stage by the dreaded hook
No longer can he read his script in the limelight
because of the low road and wrong turns he took
A playground should not be a place meant to fight
Kiddies there have been getting along very well
Apologies, Little Boy Lost should be made to write
Categories:
prattle, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Goodness gracious prater comes.
Writing winsome words of woe,
Endlessly stopping, never to go.
Whiling away the endless hours;
Scribbling sigils, clawing, I cower.
Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Goodness gracious prater comes.
Envy those not thus engaged.
Envy the prattle on the page;
Stroked, petted, tilled and hoed;
Fields ‘pon fields, rows ‘pon row.
Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Frantic fretting, fear comes.
Wading through the endless nights;
Waiting, waiting for the light.
Writing, writing, scratch and scribble;
All this soulless, mindless, drivel.
Writing, writing, writing on;
‘Till the coming of the dawn.
Categories:
prattle, satire
Form:
Rhyme
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Categories:
prattle, how i feel, humor,
Form:
Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll
On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering
We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling
Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright
Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume
We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink
Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon
Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.
Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains
“I love you…I love you”
Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze
I fall upon my knees
My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free
“I love you…I love you…I love you”
Categories:
prattle, i love you, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Evergreen pines
Evergreen firs,
Yellow moon size star rays shining through,
Nighttime in the forest.
Red cardinals mutter, mourning doves coo
On branches in sleep
Roosting in their wait for the morrow
To forage.
Rustling mice on decaying leaves,
A roaming cat strangely at peace with the night,
Lets the critters sleep.
So curious is he.
Big footprints sound and scrape loud whispers,
The critters get restless and noisy,
Tell each other there’s a brand new day; a human on the way,
And chattering twitters turn into joyous prattle.
Then the crescent sun of the dawn
With its holy glory on the world awakes
Rise up. little children, it’s Christmas morn.
Rise up, little children, Jesus was born.
And Santa has come to celebrate.
Categories:
prattle, christmas, imagery,
Form:
Imagism
...And Alexander Hamilton,
though know for controversy,
served alongside Washington
in the war to make us free.
Helped build up our new armed forces,
set the stage for our economics,
the prosperity we still enjoy,
he had a lot to do with it.
The man stood against slavery
when many just chose to ignore
the problem as unsolvable,
unwilling to seize something more.
He rose up from bastardry
to shape a nation not formed yet,
I think we should remember more
then the sad method of his death.
Then there is His Excellency,
George Washington earned that in full,
the only American soul
who any dare call by that title.
Stuck with an untrained army,
often outnumbered and outclassed,
he wouldn’t fight by Europe’s rules,
and the British he would outlast.
Ill-supplied and often hungry,
he kept the militas going,
and though they would have made him King
he gave it up voluntarily!
Taught us how to be a president,
was not a known thing in those days,
then even left that so he could farm,
the depths of his honor amaze…
Last is the one who didn’t arrive
until three generations later,
Lincoln, the man who finished the job,
that Great Emancipator.
Some would say he wasn’t a founder,
but I must include him within,
the nation we know traces right back
to the great deed done by him.
An ordinary politician
in a nation torn all apart,
forced to grow into a hero,
enough to test any man’s heart.
Forced to fight a murderous war
admist voices calling out for peace,
knowing defeat meant more chaos,
and millions left in slavery…
Nowadays voices spurn these men,
choosing to recall only mistakes,
forgetting that their bold ideas
are what have made this country great.
Teachers prattle on like socialists,
killers of one hundred million souls,
all of our mistakes pale next to that,
it’s a direction none should go.
But the wisdom of the founders
transcends the confines of their day,
they took on the challenge of freedom,
that’s a challenge that don’t go away.
If we take the time to heed them
then we can continue on thriving,
we should revere the founding fathers,
in truth we owe them everything.
Categories:
prattle, america, appreciation, freedom, history,
Form:
Rhyme
(Please read The Park -- Part One first ...
This is a continuation from Part One, due to space limitations)
Yes, kids at play are bold and wise
with flashing smiles and knowing eyes.
Children tire easily of grown-up prattle;
thoughts turn to cakes, to toys that rattle.
They think that Belles and Bills tell lies.
Tme is a birthday gift or a new surprise:
games to play; a windy day for a kite one flies;
coins that shine; toys that squeak;
a trip to the zoo at the end of the week.
Belles and Bills persist in their story.
Some even mention forgotten glory.
Children go home to eat, to sleep,
as Belles and Bills their vigils keep
then wearily drift back to flats
to listen to the rustling rats,
to sip their beers or gins or rums --
to wait until the morning comes.
They stand and stretch, look all around,
surveying the world to which they're bound.
Then they shuffle away with airs of sadness
at being always on the verge of madness.
They'll see once more the sun's first ray,
the birth in the park of another day.
Eyes are glazed and minds are dazed;
the atmosphere grows dim and hazed.
An eerie echo of an unheard bark
reverberates throughout the park
amid falling leaves and a darkening sky
and the nightly proof of the chilren's lie.
Categories:
prattle, nostalgia, people, sad, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Read this if you have the time,
I'm compelled these words to write--
Seems my parent's age of innocence
Is drawing near, the light.
For the poetry and cinema,
And the songs like "Stardust," too--
Are turning to a memory
And fading from our view.
But it was an age of innocence!
I knew it as a boy.
Where has gone the happiness;
And how escaped the joy?
Still the golden age is dying
And it whispered with a breathe--
"Don't let us pass away in vain,
And dye a common death."
So forgive me if I prattle on
But it seems the thing to do--
I placed flowers on the old today,
And will now endure, the new.
Farewell ole age of innocence,
My kind and gentle friend--
Till Buddy and the Teddy Bear
Take the stage and sing again!
Categories:
prattle, death of a friend,
Form:
Elegy
As the second hand ticks away my breaths
a half-clad moon catches my eye.
Was a time when I might've seen
the ghost of half-eaten melon,
but I'm older now, my thoughts less spry.
Dark fear's hobgoblins
were long since relegated
to memory's chuckle drawer;
open windows to warm nights ease my mind.
I must shave and write.
Neither seem as pressing
as the once hormone-inducing prance
in distant starlight,
the hot exhalations of desert air.
Nor do creased page corners
to detective thrillers and t.v.'s prattle
beckon hours with purpose.
I'm the insouciant sentry
at castles in retirement,
the dragon minus annoying fire.
Crows no longer pick eyes of the dead
in picture frames on paneled walls.
My shoes don't guardedly tread
engineered woods of perfection.
Aging brings a basset hound,
graying around the nose,
laying placidly on the rug.
I'll get to tasks eventually.
For now I commune with the moon,
allowing my mind the idyll
of a worn desk in a cluttered room
and the dulcet laze in lyrics of night birds
serenading summer's first hours.
6/19/18
Categories:
prattle, age, retirement,
Form:
Free verse
Oh mighty dingo I see you still crawl.
Long ago broken hearted and yet you still bawl.
Tears down both cheeks, is it your poor little peetie?
My heart aches for you, my dear little sweetie.
Still gritting your teeth while stuck in a clinch.
If your throne’s getting cold, then you might as well pinch.
You slither around with you childish boring prattle.
You’re still stuck in our creek, without either paddle.
Categories:
prattle, crush,
Form:
Rhyme
I Walked alone on a rainy day through an abandoned road,
with lofty trees and bushes at the sides;
No one ahead and no one behind; and I prayed
"May the road never end"
Bracing nimbus clouds spattered cool crystal drizzles
and soft breeze pierced the bamboo stems,
Raised beguiling flute music, made me pray
"May the road never end"
Slippery road embellished with fallen dry leaves,glittered;
Stepped over colorful leaves to see the nearby trees,
with ripened fruits and singing birds ;and I prayed
"May the road never end"
Raindrops from wet leaves hit my head;healed my wound
Haunting scent from wild flowers spellbound
and Cute prattle between flying squirrels,made me pray
"May the road never end"
A sudden gust of wind blew my black umbrella,
and the impulsive rain drenched me,
cleansed my soul and my hurdles flew away and I prayed
"May the road never end"
DEC-04-2017
Categories:
prattle, cute, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Should it happen that someday they're seeking struggling bards,
To compose witty verse for Hallmark Thanksgiving cards,
I think that I should like to summarily submit,
The following mots for consideration, TO WIT:
(1) Savor the oyster dressing, giblet gravy and thigh,
The sweet pertaters, green bean casserole and punkin pie.
Hope you have a goodly supply of sodium bicarbonate,
To counter the wrenching effects of all that grub you ate!
(2) To Grandma's house, hordes of kith and kin will repair,
For a delectable repast (after Grandpa ends his interminable prayer!)
May naught but love and fellowship dwell amongst you there,
As His bountiful harvest each of you gratefully share!
(3) The Thanksgiving meal is over, men folk watch ball teams battle,
While the women folk sit about the table engaged in idle prattle.
Mom's thoughts are elsewhere on how to deal with left over turkey;
She's a genius at creating soups and potpies, even turkey jerky!
(4) A Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.
Relish this time together and have a ball!
And may all with thankful hearts ever lift,
Praise to Him, the Giver of every good gift!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
prattle, funny, holiday, thanksgiving, thanksgiving,
Form:
Rhyme
Everything falls to pieces,
as the reality of my worthless existence
dawns on me.
So I crawl;
to that empty space
I call my mind.
To hide from the world
that wishes to
prick,
prattle,
and probe
until there is nothing left.
Except for me,
and my insecurities.
A endless assemblage
of dreams and regrets,
that have led me
to believe -
THERE IS nothing left.
So as the last tear flows
I only hope,
tomorrow will be
a little less bleak,
Without Me.
Categories:
prattle, death, depression, hope, sad,
Form:
Free verse