Best Slip Of The Tongue Poems
I was a city born and city bred young fellow,
whose shoes had mostly only touched concrete and tar.
Oh yes I had seen grass, but out on a footy ground
and my entertainment was drinking at a nightclub bar.
As a city bred young bloke I had never seen the stars
for blanket smog and neon lights had blocked them out.
I never knew what clean air was, nor really cared at all,
and rain was just a nuisance that I could do without.
I had no idea where food comes from - why should I?
I just hand across ten dollars, and bingo! In my hand,
is warm and crispy chicken with leaves I throw away,
and chocolate milk comes in a carton with a brand.
But I’m informed one morning, this is not the case.
Milk, like cheese and butter, and yoghurt too somehow,
comes to the city from the country, for us city folk.
And I didn’t quite believe - from the inside of a cow.
A cow! I’ve never seen a cow. What’s a cow look like?
That’s right! I admit I’d not seen a cow in all me life.
I barely knew the difference, between a cow and a pig,
until in a nightclub - that’s where I met me future wife.
Jean is a lovely girl; so pretty, and near rural to the core.
She knows every breed of cow that is written in the book.
Jean has milked them, immunised, dehorned them in a crush,
so she’s quite strong in the arm and can land a great left hook.
I’m talking of me own experience; me jaw is still quite sore.
The lesson that I learnt is to choose words more carefully.
I’m not sure if the listeners sed at what I had said,
or were pleased to see an enraged woman acting like a bully.
Since we had married in the city, and lived in a city flat,
me darling Jean for many months suggested time and time again,
we should go back to her hometown where Jean promised me,
that I will finally see a cow and Jean won’t have to explain.
Now I’ve seen Friesians, Jerseys, Guernsey’s, Ayrshire’s;
I’ve eyed Poddy Calves, yearling Heifers, Bulls and Steers.
I’ve become an expert on cows, and just what is required.
I know everything that’s needed about cows so it appears.
But when lecturing colleagues with Jean close by me side,
it became the catalytic weapon to cause a murderous scene,
for I proudly uttered loudly without consequential fears,
that I had never seen a cow until - I met my wife Jean.
The Giants won the Series;
I didn’t really care.
The team I root for (Yankees)
This year didn’t make it there.
But always this reminds me
When my son was very young,
He referred to this finale
With a kid’s slip of the tongue.
He called it “The World Serious,”
Not meaning to be slick;
With all the hype surrounding it,
We’ve let that label stick.
And so we watched the Royals lose
Despite a rousing fight.
They sure looked serious to me,
The proof my son was right!
There was a time in my life when I was Self-assured
and I experienced the Esteem of my fellow man.
I could walk into a roomful of strangers and have no qualms
about the dangers of a slip of the tongue, as I knew I would have
a quick and witty repartee for them.
Of course, that time in my life passed all too quickly, as I grew
older and "full of wisdom" taught by life's experiences. The self-assurance
I had when I was 18, transformed into a more cautious, yet still
estimable 25. Taking what I knew to be the deceitful practices of
unscrupulous and dishonest men, I reassessed my own life in terms of
its self-assurance and esteem.
I found that I it was more difficult to be sure of myself in every situation;
that because of the pain I had to endure at their hands I would now look
at my life through the ever emptying glass of self-worth, prestige, and
know-it-all attitude. I had to find my guide, again.
Others now pointed out the foibles that were inherent in my character. I took note of
these observations, only to find that too many of them were true. However, I also began
to realize that in order for me to again regain the esteem of the person I saw each
morning in the mirror, I had to better follow my original mission statement of life ~ TO
HELP PEOPLE.
I began this mission in earnest by careful assessment of the past mistakes I had made in
judgment, my personal sins of commission and omission, and a renewed faith in God's mercy.
It has been a struggle for over 30 years now, and I have a renewed Esteem and
Self-assurance because of my belief in Him.
Of the gifts He gave to me in that time of searching, the most important and influential
were a new wife and family, their love and affection, and the ability and confidence to
write words like these for you to read.
Now, I can again enter that room of strangers and have the ability to speak to them
without the doubts that have plagued me for these many years. I owe it to the Lord above,
thank Him for His generosity to me, and pray that you will also know His Loving Will in
your life. VIVAT JESUS!
Better take his wife to lunch
after what he said yesterday.
A slip of the tongue.
But where to take her?
The Chinese buffet?
The Indian buffet?
Maybe the Japanese place.
She likes sushi and tempura.
But when he asks about lunch
she says not a chance.
She has to clean the house.
Cleaning lady comes today.
Donal Mahoney
I still have that dream of us
on what would be my last day in Uruguay
sitting on a low stone wall
overlooking the vast sea
while the sun is chased away behind us
and the wind gently brushes the hair from your shoulder
to tease at my arm.
Between us is a slice of cake; Chajá, like promised
picked up while strolling Montevideo
the real tour being your form in three dimensions
a whisper of peach still on both of our tongues
still secretly wondering if it would taste any differently
if stolen off of lips instead.
Conversation scarce and unneeded
lulled in favor of kicking legs and staring out at birds
as they glide from blue and into orange and magenta blooms
all the while hyper aware
of how charged your long, lithe fingers seem
and how mine, coarse and calloused, are busy supporting my weight
as I lean back with my shoulders
and itch to crawl them closer.
Just the wind carrying unspoken wishes
in a moment so serene and encapsulated
in the lives of youths coming together in ebbs and flows
light crashes of waves
against a smooth stone wall.
"Can I kiss you?"
not knowing how but moving forward
brushing brows and cheeks with the pads of a thumb
and landing on a chin to hold
so that a featherlight brush might be delivered
with the proper mix of shy yet the most bold they've ever been.
And peach does taste especially sweet
when bitten off juicy lips.
As how salty air becomes a balm
when breathed fresh between two pairs of lungs
Though time is short and shy and chaste
this moment lingers like a false memory in a bottle
thrown from the wall to be lost at sea
a message to the future when this may be realized
and held precious like a gem and not fragile glass.
I don't want to taint this beautiful delusion
with the reality that is far too unkind
But now if I visit I fear we would both be ghosts
me, an intrusion
a foreigner retracing the steps of a familiar stranger
mourning the echoes of memories
resenting the setting sun behind the low stone wall
and the parting gift of an overdue first kiss
stolen not by the warm summer wind
nor even the strains of money nor pains of distance
nor "best laid plans"
but by something as simple and foolish
as wanting too much
the wrong kind of slip of the tongue.
A fall from heaven and a slip of the tongue
a hope to remember and a song to be sung
always forever and not a moment to spare
for sorrows and kindness hung in the air
Through a broken haze, through a broken haze
no longer sunny but better than most days
can't recall a better time than that and the other
best not to remember and better yet not to bother
Only a tear drop or more can clear a foggy mind
plenty to go around, too few to be kind
Heavy like morning dew the kiss between me and you
better to forget them, passing them out of view
Hope's a lady, a wish, and a prayer,
offering endless possibilities.
She's dressed in hand-me-downs, frail and threadbare,
spun from fears and responsibilities.
She visits the hearts of both old and young,
often appearing as a last resort.
And She has been dubbed a slip of the tongue,
an Angel, and a fantasy escort.
She's stubborn and not known to disappear,
although sometimes She may dwindle away.
And yet, if summoned, She will reappear
when life's calamities come into play.
A granter of wishes, She sets the stage
with anticipation, magic, and trust.
And in the book of life, She turns each page:
She's hung around since we were formed from dust.
July fourth and firecrackers aren't heard.
Perhaps because it's raining as I type.
I thank the gods for booming sounds deferred.
My guess, I'm getting old. I hate the hype
That everyone is caught up with today.
In youth we did exactly all that's done
Perhaps a smidgen more so, by the way.
The noise we made, heck! It was all in fun.
We celebrated Independence Day.
I'm no longer young, oops! Slip of the tongue.
A senior citizen I'm called today.
Its political correctness among
The hearing impaired. Oh god! Please don't scoff
Guess what? I had my hearing aid turned off!
What crap.
I write of this and that
the dog, the birds, the cat.
In these random fluctuatinos
can't imagine where to be punctuating.
Use the comma, colon, apostrophe for contractions
as i slip and slide to my own in-actions.
A cap, a misspelled word
what I was saying is so absurd,
A cadence, a rhyme,
slip of the tongue un-twined;
some sarcasm to be less benign.
A dot, a dash,
some humor splashed.
What the hey
let me write a least a poem a day
Good or bad,
a message happy and sad;
to tweet a word, a rhyme or two -
Ironic Zink, this one's for you!
Marginalized middle finger people
moving upwardly mobile
on a quality-of-life escalator going always down
Mall pallbearers for the palladium pocketeers,
(them who bring forth weekly pocket tears)
Three-piece suit gator claws with Wall Street wolf ears
Kiss-the-ring finger people
trying to climb up the societal brass rung
Getting pyramid food chain hung —
Pink slip of the tongue
will make the money grubbers
perennial bottom feeders
Green thumb people
got phased out when the New Deal got farmed out signed
Sent dumpster diving by the bottom line
Escort pallbearers for the corporate pocketeers,
(them who poverty package job security fears)
Downsize pirana jaws with Vegas loan shark ears
Bent index finger people
are always on the hook for the acquisition debt
Bowing and scraping for the quotas to be met
Rube cubicle teacher’s pet love to fetch,
wag the tail ... lick the boot
Being management sandwiched in the middle
Little finger caste people
are stuck in the human resource revolving door
The homeless room always begging for more
Schoolyard sweat factories in need of a Silicon Valley upgrade
got the crypto-chip chimps to put pension skin in the paper mill game
Middle class is dismissed when the ceremonial cut-ribbon fade
(More Brevity Poems, 50 words or less)
Unknown (22 words)
Hidden in secrecy, Shrouding the truth
Showing little, Unable to sleuth
Reasons unknown, Motives unclear
Open to none, All out of fear.
Sliding doors (16 words)
I saw her look
from across the station
I ran,
the doors closed,
and she's gone
Hand Made (36 Words)
Molded to imagination
Lacks form on its own
Purpose lies in art and function
Not on one alone
Hands and eyes work together
Creating something new
Finished now and on a shelf
For everyone to view
Victory (20 words)
Veni vidi vici
Proclaim the spoils of war
Soldiers flood the fields
With guns out front
Planes and tanks galore
The Dark of Night (Cinqain)
Night
Calm, mysterious
Blankets the world
Time of relaxed reflection
Darkness
Secret (25 words)
Locked in a vault behind the mind’s eye.
Hidden from the world in order to deny.
A slip of the tongue... it’s gone... you sigh…
Bank Robbery (14 words)
Sweat on his brow
Revolver in hand
She relinquishes the bag
Now he flees
Video Phone (18 words)
The perfect crime
So it seemed
But unbeknownst
At the scene
Someone caught it
On their cellphone screen
Camping (20 words)
Crisp Mountain air
Snuggled together in a microfiber bag
An enclosed zippered fortress
Protected from the elements
Communing with Nature
The Sun (10 words)
Night and day
Create illusion.
Masking truth of
Eternal sunshine.
Clothed in Ink (14 words)
Fish scales and flowers,
A saturated canvas.
Naked yet hidden
Under ink master’s design.
Untold No More (45 words)
Floodgates open.
Pouring forth a tale
Of mystery
And lessons learned.
A tale of caution
For open minds
To be soaked up
Like a sponge.
The release creates
Momentary ecstasy.
It escapes the lips,
Lifting a great weight.
Now the story will be passed on.
When someone says, “You look FLABulous”!
Is it just a slip of the tongue
Or are they secretly trying to let you know
You're not trim like when you were young!
Words can be cruel and hurtful at times
Specially if they're close to the truth
Sometimes they can hurt you really badly
You get into the gin and vermouth!
There's a worldwide scourge, it's called obesity
It's more serious than it's ever been
On average about sixty percent of us guys
Can be considered anything but lean!
It's a scourge that afflicting all of mankind
In this world of instant things
Microwave meals at everyone's fingertips
You're eating at the sound of the ding!
So when someone says, “You look FLABulous”!
It's a warning your life is in danger
Get on that bike or run a few miles
Take this advice from this FLABulous stranger!
© Jack Ellison 2014
We have harbored distrust for many generations
It’s time for inclusion, respect in all nations
We must not judge color, or traditions, or dress
We must accept differences, should we expect less?
A slip of the tongue, perhaps a kind word mislaid
Forgiveness must come if ever peace can be made
As you travel through life trying to find your place
You are but one single breath in this human race.
No matter the laws, or massive movements to heed
We must improve ourselves, one by one to succeed
To build a world full of love, we must look within
Raise our hands in prayer, and let healing begin.
Face each other eye to eye, let this be your goal…
See the human inside…there’s no color to a soul!
Forgive, Then Move On
Written: by Miracle Man
2-5-2019
Whatever we've said,
Or whatever we do.
Puts some touchy person,
Into a “He's Racist” stew.
A slip of the tongue,
Years ago, now causes strife
Does revenge change anything?
Forgive and get on with life.
But there is no forgivness,
For previous words uttered.
Many demand a brusing,
For past words muttered.
The vociferation that's loudest,
Seems to win the game.
And usually that person,
Has been guilty of the same.
Some demand respect,
And try forcing the action.
Thinking if the media's on board,
It'll lend a cause traction.
We must learn to forgive,
Once spoken words are amended.
And stop going through life,
Feeling constantly offended.
God forgives, so should we!
Tom
The Builder
If it does not bite you at the end of each breath,
Then I will start again and again
And I will rewrite it, all over again.
Do it all again; pretend we are friends.
I never claimed to believe in anything ‘real’.
These lips are sealed to forever lovers.
I wish I had never gone undercover.
In my happy disguise, I find truth within eyes.
I fixate on the page, the place, the way
And someday I will find a place where I can truly say,
‘I love you’, and mean it;
But this is neither the time, nor the day.
I have dagger eyes upon me.
Always waiting for a new surprise.
They are hoping for a slip of the tongue;
Waiting for me to mention drugs,
Waiting with the desert dogs,
But I have nothing more to say,
About what I have, or have not done.
You pick your truth as I live in peace,
With decisions I have made.
I made no choice, for I have no choice.
Some might say I lead the way;
Some might say,
All things are already set in stone.
Rock steady is the path I walk along.
Destiny is self-assured,
For I have never found a cure,
To all the hurt in my own world,
So I will never reach a day,
Where I no longer need to build.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.