Best Scuttlebutt Poems
terza rima
Years of experience, a discovery -
I can speak without making use of my jaws.
Prudence and patience are rudimentary.
Some folks get their kicks using scuttlebutt claws.
Their tongues' crude vitality comes with closed eyes;
emotional blindness - the probable cause.
Starting with prejudice, they out and out lie.
When asked, I stand silent, comments I refuse.
To their third-degree grilling I can't reply.
Some fake aggravation, crying through tissues.
But demurring to speak, objection I raise.
Honesty is one of many dead issues.
Bidding no farewell, I leave, making my case,
which makes me their next target, no hesitance.
My objection overruled, noise fills the place.
Turning my back on verbal vindictiveness,
this fugitive from gossip needs no redress.
13 March 2016
Categories:
scuttlebutt, satire, silence, society, prejudice,
Form:
Terza Rima
Old Mr. Nicholson
totters across the town square
to the barbershop where
Clive has cut his hair
for the last forty years or so
Not hardly needing
even a trim
but pretending
he has a reason besides
the gossip waiting within
Inside, the shop smells like hair tonic
shaving cream and old leather
and the only noticeable things
that Clive's changed
in the last forty years
are the calendar, magazines
and gumball machine
Tall and gaunt, Clive stoops and
shuffles around the shop
a bit slow and shaky, but still
the cheapest and best around
as he drawls out the latest
scuttlebutt from all over town
Harry Van Hoorn leans
sideways in the old barber chair
hanging on every word like an old hound
ears flapping in the breeze
making an odd squinchy face as he
holds back a sneeze
bits of loose hair tickling his nose
While old Arnie Bruner
broods in the corner
his usual sour-faced self
like an old prune
all wrinkled and dried up
without a single good thing to say
“Well, hello Ed!” Clive stops and says
as Mr. Nicholson sidles in
he amiably waves his comb in the air
continuing to work on Harry's hair
thoroughly ignored as he
continues to speak
“Long time, no see!” Harry sings out
even though they were both
in here just last week
“Hiya Harry!” Mr. Nicholson says
in his high-pitched little whine
“Have you heard about-”
“Oh wait, lemme guess-” Arnie breaks in
in his growly bass
“...it's about that place... next door to-”
“Jim and Grace” Harry cuts in
“No, I was going to say-”
Mr. Nicholson chirps
a bit snappily
“It must be about Jenny Mae...”
Harry chortles gleefully
“No, it's gotta be about Faye!-”
Arnie belts out grumpily
Meanwhile, they're missing
all the scorching details
of the greatest scandal
as Clive croons on
amid the din
of his gabby, blabby customers
each desperate
to get a word in
Back and forth, in and out
with bickers and shouts
hums, warbles, trills, groans
solos and accidental duets
their crazy cacophony has become
a funny (albeit gossipy) kind
of barbershop quartet!
Categories:
scuttlebutt, community, humanity, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Mint condition - brand new transmission and loaded. I used to fit that description.
You should've seen me brand new. My owner had the only key to my ignition.
But one day I heard him say he was selling me and moving away. That was the
End of life, as I knew it. New owner left me in the rain. My seats got stained
And I was covered with dirt. I couldn't look at myself in my side mirrors.
Under the hood my belts were worn, can't recall when my oil was last drained.
Tires patched, fenders dented, then he hatched a scheme to sell me for junk.
In a tizzy, like some old Tin Lizzie, I knew I was bound for the graveyard of cars.
Forty years stuck in this place, torn apart like I've been wounded in wars.
Useless now because the best parts of me have either been stolen or sold.
Lordy, I was zesty, zipping and zooming down highways. It stinks to be so old.
Rust! Corroded with it from my hardtop all the way down to my hubcaps. I take
Umbrage with anyone who thinks I'm ugly. Look beyond my flaws and you'll
See that my classic lines are still beautiful, just shabby chic. You don't have to
Take my word for it. Google me and take a gander at the beauty I was in my
Youth. Don't be uncouth and crude. You'd be rude to call me an old rust bucket!
Bumper still feels like it's intact. In fact, my front grill still seems to be in place
On this old worn out body of mine. Headlights long busted, hood rusted shut.
Doggone it! I can't see too good any more with broken head lights on my face.
You thinking about restoring me? I heard the rumor. I hope it's not scuttlebutt.
6/14/16
Categories:
scuttlebutt, car,
Form:
Acrostic
'Tis well-known that military blokes speak a lingo of their own,
But it has served them well over the years, it has been shown!
To a General or a Private, such jargon is totally sensible,
But to ordinary citizens, 'tis utterly incomprehensible!
"Yard birds" know all about "policing the area" and "kitchen police."
A seasoned "grunt" knows what it means to "clean his piece."
The "head" is a sanctuary for musing to a sailor or marine,
But to an airman or soldier, 'tis better known as the "latrine."
When on the firing line the Sergeant yells, "Fire at will!"
Guys aim not to kill Will but to improve their shooting skill!
When a Corporal invites his squad to a "GI Party" on Friday night,
There'll be no beer but you'll scrub the floor and do it right!
From the dreaded "Reveille" to "Retreat" (when troops must salute),
Bugle calls herald tidings quickly learned by even the rawest recruit!
Everyone scans the "Daily Bulletin" for the latest "scuttlebutt."
On parade, troopers snicker watching "second louies" strut!
Essential to national defense, the brass concoct acronyms galore,
And there are geniuses in the Pentagon always begetting more,
Word forms from (A)WACS to (Z)ULU and betwixt ad infinitum!
Ah! Those handy acronyms! How could we fight a war without 'em!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
scuttlebutt, funny
Form:
Rhyme
A closer look at a fantastic word
And no, I’m not talking in bafflegab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
To absquatulate like a fracas herd
Throw a foofaraw over a little jab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A uni-brow is a glabella furred
And whirligigs hung too slapdash to grab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Scuttlebutt schlepped to sassafras by bird
Skedaddle from a skirmish of stone crab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A quibble over razzmatazz occurred
Doohickey from a lummox, easy nab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
So scrumdiddlyumptious I may have slurred
Like tintinnabulation, it’s not drab
A closer look at a fantastic word
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Categories:
scuttlebutt, fun, words,
Form:
Villanelle
When you were born, I did not know what to do,
You see, I was only just the age of two.
Wherever I went, so did you
You see, we were stuck together like glue.
Then as we grew up, we started drifting apart.
Yet, you see, you were always in my heart.
If I knew what was meant by those mean boys would impart.
They would no longer have a mouthpart.
As adults, we do not always agree.
However, you mean the world to me.
We lost one sister, something no one could foresee.
Grief brought us back together and we set our squabbles free.
Know that no matter what,
We will always follow our gut,
We will never believe the scuttlebutt
That we are told, we will allow the world to shut.
Aleera, you are my sister now and forever,
And these new bonds I do not want to sever.
I will always be here for you whenever,
And these horrible storms we shall, together, weather.
©Kristy De La Keur Scoville
Categories:
scuttlebutt, family, love, sister,
Form:
Rhyme
A monochrome of boho days
segue one another surreptitiously.
Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by.
Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense.
Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron.
Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot.
The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by
agenda.
Metatarsals on the march.
Street vendor’s spooky cry with banjo beating busker at his side.
Dirt pan bellow and brittle strum about the
orange alert ahead.
Crowded car park, careening bus, frustrated taxi driver rank and file.
Backstreet Barney or kerfuffle on the lawn.
Swing sign overhead, a pawn in every trending breeze.
Office block malarkey cutting capers for the press.
New age ante-fix, the cover tile for corruption.
Whistle blowing wag inside the
city centre fault line.
Brass neck
reservoir of hoodwink high and low.
Harassed mother, barefoot beggar
nervously extends her rusted tin.
Guilt edge coin as bandage to our shoddy scruple.
Bag lady on the fringe of some haute couture complex.
Stasi-like security whose bluff veneer belies an inner
bludgeon.
Crouton salad diner has his finger on the pulse but not his pulse rate!
Tycoon in transition with an open brief!
Teflon tyrant
back to the future.
Ambulance chaser …. legal eagle…..with fortune in misfortune their calling card .
To the limit and beyond like an offshore Ansbacher.
Noonday bell
interloper at the scuttlebutt tavern.
Seconds out,
moments out,
hours in a hari kari haze.
Sensei’s of the left filling void with vacuum.
Laboured diatribe against dynasty, trite slogans, empty rhetoric, mannah from heaven?
All this from the cadres of social despotism!
Passage, the
pollinating insect of aroha.
Behind the rhythm of the grind a broad leaf grain of hope may sprout.
Green shoots of bounty.
Latent sidewalk bloomer.
Blossom by default or tender impulse
Categories:
scuttlebutt, birth, business, care, caregiving,
Form:
Prose Poetry
tune could not carry
horrible sound would vary
and also very
latest scuttlebutt
trump should keep his big mouth shut
bury with King Tut
they will realize
after hearing all the cries
forgot my french fries
peter forgot to pay paul
when he slipped in shower stall
out from had to haul
many need to feed
must have a group who agreed
should no longer speed
stock market did dive
many hard times would arrive
with God should survive
Categories:
scuttlebutt, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Haiku
I’ve been harkening back to my formative years
Haunting seedy seaport bars in Keelung,
Navigating strange interventions abroad,
While adjusting my ears to an alien tongue.
On the streets of the market the game was afoot.
I bought a gold earring and a butterfly knife,
Then ran after numerous Dead Sea trolls,
The cause and effect of a nautical life.
I came up from nothing to a dozen tattoos.
Their steady ascension tracked the course of my rise.
I’ve sailed through typhoons, both real and imagined,
The toll noticed most by the sad in my eyes.
I struggled hard, then I struggled harder,
Heaving hawsers and mooring lines fast as I could.
There were flirtations with death and sordid disasters.
I learned to sort the bad days from the good.
It brings to mind the moral of that fabled children’s tale
That worried overconfidence and proved what’s fair is fair.
There wasn’t any race between a bunny and a tortoise,
But an existential duel between my patience and thin air.
Sometimes there’s no distinguishing a donkey from an ass.
Be wary of the scuttlebutt that whispers through the murk.
There’s a horrible hunger perched over my door.
I honor that ravenous vulture and feed it my body of work.
Categories:
scuttlebutt, allegory, literature,
Form:
Lyric
She sat at your table
You laughed at her jokes
She saw then, but couldn't believe
It was all an orchestrated hoax
You invited her to afternoon lunches
But left her to find friends
Her presence made a difference
But not enough for the lies to end
She beheld the scuttlebutt
You four crowded in static whisper
She was too white for your dark
Drink and tattoo parlors to appear a hipster
You received her flow of life
Inviting your leeches to glow bright
Siphoning energetic creation
So you could be THE light
She said nothing..just walked away
Hoping you would return in time
You did, with gestures of value
To ensure she was still in line
...to bow
TRUTH doesn't speak
She stands in LOVE
Scales in hand
Inside Mama dove
Court is in session
Only WORD has the floor
TRUTH was never alone
Daddy God has cut the cord
...to lies
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03/29/2022
Categories:
scuttlebutt, judgement,
Form:
Rhyme
An Opinion blindly thinks, but
Boldly speaks out loud
Judgment of...Perspective on...
Doesn't matter to the crowd
As quick as it leaves the lips, it's retold with words anew
Snowballs fast, has bigger plans
For Opinion's point of view
Big Ears-Big Mouths pass it on
Reporting it; "As the truth!"
A small fish becoming a whale of a tale...
Without a single shred of proof
Hearsay tweaks the tale a bit; "Needs more drama"
"I can tell"
(Not a lie, just embellishment...The better buzz will sell)
A Little Birdie told me, in my ear
Flap flap-flapping...Peep
Chattering; "Listen to this" to a;
"That's what I heard!" Sheep
Following the flock, Baaabbling on
Nosy Parker Yakkety-yaks
Gossip climbs on the bandwagon, poisoning truth with little-known facts
Together they spread the Rumor
Through the grapevine, fruit gets ripe
Gossips peck 'til there's nothing left
Of 'Opinions Grapevine' flight
But soon, another Opinion speaks up..
Through the maze, to the Grapevine News
Headline reads;
"Loose Lips Sinks Ship."
Aboard Gossip's Scuttlebutt Cruise!
Categories:
scuttlebutt, allegory, humor, parody, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
I don’t like to crow, but I’m an expert at giving my enemies the I-could-not-care-less-about-you strut.
I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret. Watch out when I stick my nose in the air, and push out my big gut.
On a good day, I have been known to preen in front of seventeen amazed women, in front of your very hut.
So stand back, young woman, as I spread out my glorious feathers of turquoise, blue, and green, keep your coop shut.
I know you are looking at me weirdly, wondering whether or not I’m some kind of amazingly good-looking nut.
I’m telling you darling, run for the hills, and find another – there are some at least half as fine, with no scuttlebutt.
I am a danger to you, little peahen, so you’d best stay away, run while you’re at it; follow your gut!
Categories:
scuttlebutt, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Personification
AFTER THE CONCERT
Before was sober expectation -
The scuttlebutt
The learned dissertation
How the boxes, parquet did settle, did flow
Plush with plutocracy
While those on high held thoughtful gaze below
Bother not with concert raving,
Stage attire and shading
As per always was the performance amazing!
Let’s mil about after the show –
The careful exit,
The lingering afterglow
How the music like whispering mist
Has tinted sensitive faces
Has harmoniously kissed
And bathed dreary sense with light
How, long after cocktails, snacks and chat
One, yet charmed, fondly hugs the spouse goodnight
Categories:
scuttlebutt, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
The salesman said, “This computer will do everything,
but wipe your butt!”
My wife said, “If you buy that thing … please tell me …
you didn’t buy all of that scuttlebutt?”
My brother said, “Mine is bigger and better than yours –
more potential and way more storage capacity,”
My friend said, “Most important, does it have AI capability?”
My neighbor said, “That machine will still be fully functional
long after you’re dead!”
I said, “I’ll take it. After all that’s been said!”
written February 5, 2022
especially for "Let's Explore Digital Technology" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Simon Rogerson
Categories:
scuttlebutt, computer, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I like travelling a lot
that’s why people are
often giving me guilt trips.
I like to drill and dig holes
that’s why people always bore me.
I like playing possum
that’s why life often passes me by.
I paint a lot in red
that’s why people often catch me
red-handed painting the town red.
I am old-school and like to
hitch rides on horse-drawn cart
but fall off the wagon often.
I bite off more than I can chew
And I am hanging onto life now
by the skin of my teeth.
Categories:
scuttlebutt, confusion,
Form:
Free verse