Best Spluttering Poems
Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Gate,
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
Door,
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Angelic rapport:-
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
Enthuse...
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Implore?
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Say,
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Ray,
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
O glorious Autumn of melancholic
Gold -
All abouts the brightly lit
Woodlands
Your wonderful artistry behold!
Tinted bronzes,
Darting between awkward firs
Of sobering Evergreen,
Loiter inside mauve havens
Splashed with palest yellows -
And dappled with many differing
Limes
Throughout this variegated Theme;
A myriad of rustling contentment,
Sweetest contrasting charms,
Complimentary...
Softly whispering leafy hues...
Hushed...most elegantly serene.
Bursting into the swelling copses
And invading between the
Dwindling fields:
Auburn, primrose and lilac views -
Abundant with seasons
Celebrations
That so magnificently infuse!
Glowering in simmering sunset,
And spluttering in misty dawn:
Afire with all the orbs oozing
Revelry,
That upon barkened furniture,
To thus gild - and resplendently
Adorn!
Now is the time
That dry tinkling leaves
Give musical resonance
To a breath exhaled from
A breeze...
Fanning the boughs roaring flames
That each out-stretched branch
does eagerly seize,
Fired from the eternal torch
That immortal Ceridwen tirelessly
Sought;
Whilst I hang upon evocative
Memories
That this arresting moment briefly
Caught.
Blazing with a consummate passion
Ignited from a poets grappling
Thoughts:
The Muses to this joyous splendour
Were summarily summoned
And brought;
But as elusive as the enchanting
Notes
From the intoxicating pipes of
Evasive Pan...
So as elusive the words of the
Unwritten verse
That so evade this singular man.
So burn! You gaily painted colours,
Within abandoned restrain,
Your dizzying carousel
A whirling kaleidoscope
Upon an artists ever changing frame.
Soft ochres and dappled browns
Mixed with vivid orange and crimson
Red...
Applied lavishly from the palette
Of Artemis
Over which the vibrant pastes
Are thinly spread.
A riot of pastel shades
All exploding forth -
With the raging power of a
Supernova
Of an immense, dazzling force!
All hail to the almighty:
From the devout to the Divine...
And all hail to the Grandeur
And Majesty -
Of his awe-inspiring design!
EVE OF STORMS
As I look towards the horizon,
Without hesitation,
But with determined yet
Heartfelt trepidation,
And see a distant angry
Storm forging forth
Its spluttering vicious curvaceous
Fearful advance holds my gaze
With historical ageless
Heartfelt emotions,
That sink and dive,
And furl and curl,
Knowing no one may survive!
Poseidon and Neptune take centre stage,
And Eve of storms unleashes wrath,
Tempts oceans rage!
The beginning of time
Is about to meet Mythology
Eternity about to clash
With oceans and Astrology
The mystical ocean gods,
Meet Eve, the beginning of human
Temptation, against all odds!
The reptile has achieved
Its evil aim and intent,
Causing chaos and fear
Alone is it’s content.
The gods call upon God our Maker
To drown the serpent tormentor,
And quell this tidal wave
Ten storeys tall,
About to wipe out all,
This massive water wall!
Eve of Storms has angered God
She had already lost the keys
To Paradise, now interferes
With Poseidon and Neptune,
The gods of seas,
God the omnipresent and the
Only truth sends Eve back to Earth,
Is Eve of Storms,
Fiction, or myth people say,
But to this day
Whilst looking up
At starlit skies
We are no more the wise!
We lived in a crooked house.
Built on a muddy mound of hope with the corpse of yesterday half buried beneath
Sad eyes and smiley faces. A gilded countenance to pair the four walled fiction – Painted thin; only just enough to cover our cracks.
Widening like morning eyes; a mirrored reflection.
Dancing in a zigzag to the tune of the tremors. An ugly soundtrack coaxing ugly art.
Those damp walls. The cracks swallowing torrents from eyes in the sky
Wide eyed boys watching sliding droplets crashing into droplets. Swallowed like pride.
Doors jammed in water seeped jambes. Knotted and gnarled. A need for a greave
Trees weeping at what they witness from the outside looking in. Shedding leaves for tears.
Oft trampled floor boards creaking and crying in solidarity with those that walk its back
Whisper and scurry light-footed like mice in a hurry so easily scared by the wall breaching wind
Trying hard not to wake the monster sleeping downstairs - Breath held like tongues, voices low
Like the swing in the garden tied to the tired branch of the hunched tree. Seat sunk in mud. Ashamed.
A tip toe down the slippery stairs; in fear of drowning in the basement swimming pool. A watery hell
Festering in the bowels of this building ever since the burgeoning moat breached the ramparts of this faux castle.
Lopsided family photo frames hanging by a thread. Nailed to crumbling walls. A slipping semblance of home.
The rising cigarette smoke staining the walls like those words from the same pursed lips from the mind so hard to rid
A cloudy plume with no silver lining; an excuse for eyes to water; blurring those family portraits.
That poisoned smog escaping through the chimney. Blown out over spluttering trees aghast at what this house concealed.
The wind once blew from the west. The house had many faces then but when the east wind struck its walls, the face it pulled it stuck. Doubled over, bent and crooked.
The trees perished like dreams and time brought change
But this crooked house remained the same.
Written: June 26, 2023
______________________________________________________________
The morning's rising sun looms above the hills.
My breath catches in my throat and fulfills.
Warblers are an attractive bonus to the garden.
Their delicate melodies offer a lovely lyrical pardon.
The oak vine is adorned with crimson clematis.
Its aromatic splendor is a sight that grabs us.
A waltz in the breeze, with feathers fluttering.
As butterflies cope with a wind dance spluttering.
Yet, alas, it's late, and my task needs to start.
I reluctantly step away from the natural art.
I find comfort in the morning serenade.
Calm before the time of the promenade.
The sun's golden rays kiss my face,
Guiding me forward with gentle grace
In the day's tasks that lie ahead,
But in my heart, nature's song is still spread.
Though my steps may be heavy, my spirit is light.
The morning symphony will carry me through the fight.
The melodies of birds linger in my ears.
Their harmonies calm any fears.
The beauty of nature is a constant reminder.
That there's much into life than merely a grinder.
So as I start my work with a cumbrous heart,
I'll hold onto the morning symphony's art.
Once I had harbored complexes many.
I thought I wasn’t beautiful or wise.
With my spluttering tone and broken speech,
I feared, my words fell flat,
Never leaving an impact or impression
Now when I have learnt to accept myself as I am,
I find, there is more strength in me than I know,
And I really do have worth.
I know, even sunshine can burn,
If we bask too much in its warmth.
When our ego is shorn and our craving
For acceptance is lifted off like a piece of lead
It is then we feel lighter at heart.
Do you think this wisdom descended on me,
All too sudden? Never, it came slowly,
When passed through bitter trials, the ups and downs of life.
As grapes are crushed to make red wine,
As sunflower seeds are pressed to extract oil,
One is passed through the tests of life,
And my insights, I got through hard lessons.
Now I know I am not just a traveler in this wild terrain,
And my sojourn here is not accidental but has a purpose.
I realize I am not alone, but walk among people,
Who share a commonality of experience.
When corn withers on the stalk,
And when life gets torn from its moorings,
It signals that change must come.
When I wished to get a new ignition
And when I tried it with all my might
My leaden nights got transformed into golden days.
So, don’t fret when life confronts you like a Sumo wrestler.
Just know you are in the process of a transmutation!
I have been in utter darkness,
But burning myself in the blazing fire,
I have acquired the sheen and glitter of gold,
And how thankful I am, for I am re-forged!
Bang, bang, bang, black minds open,
Black eyes seeing black blood spluttering on the black board,
Black tears from black eyes,
Black man in black out,
Black people eating black berries,
Black for black market, black magic, black eyes, black etc,
Black is everything bad,
Black is abused everywhere,
Black people now the black sheep,
And yet I am the black poet,
Reciting black poetry.
This is no illusion,
Time is never still.
If you were blind before,
What hope can the future bring now?
In this time of loneliness,
There is nothing but segregation.
Nothing more than the existentialist,
What hope can the future bring now?
Now that we stand guarded,
What will the new dawn hold?
If eyes can pierce a beating heart,
What hope can the future bring now?
In this time of bitterness,
Of exceptional cruelty and hate.
Could not the wise ones say,
What hope can the future bring now?
For scholar and learned man alike,
Can spout truths, facts and figures.
But amidst the pomp and spluttering,
What hope can the future bring now?
Rise then and be heard wistful,
No one has our stance and holding.
We are comfort in a sick world,
We are today, tomorrows little dream
A VISIT TO THE DOCTOR
I had a bad cold,
And my throat was sore,
My husband told,
Me to go to the Doctor,
Before I got flu!
I made an appointment and was due,
To be seen at two o’clock.
I sat down next to a young man,
Who had the pock,
He was coughing and
Spluttering all over me,
Can’t you see,
Don’t you care,
Are you not aware,
That you’re spreading your germs,
All around this place,
He got up with a red face,
And sat on a chair at the back
Which fell as he sat for he was big,
And the chair had a crack!
As soon as he left, sat a lady,
She told me she had shingles,
Just to look at her gave me tingles.
I got up very concerned and ready
To take my next seat
I chose one whose occupant I didn’t suspect,
For physically I couldn’t detect,
Anything visible, she told me
She had swine flu,
And my flu vaccine was overdue!
I shot up and was ready to leave,
But the next patient was a toddler
Who seemed very shy, and I
Did not register,
That he seemed to have lumps
His Mom told me
Her youngster had mumps,
After he had sat on my knee,
And had a chew on my car-key!
I phoned my husband and told him,
That I had been in touch with a toddler,
With mumps,
I could immediately hear he fell down
In the dumps
For he had never had mumps,
And disliked the thought of getting
These lumps,
And of course any repercussion thereafter,
Would certainly not be a matter,
For laughter!
As I was about to leave,
A little girl arrived with measles,
Who repeatedly said
Mom I don’t like needles!
This was too much I was going home,
I opened my bag, and put back my phone.
We both thought it was certainly safer,
To go home and take a Corenza!
So if you get sick,
Try and get better on your own,
Or try to speak to your
Doctor on the phone,
For whatever it was I had,
If I’d stayed at the Doctor's rooms
I’d be sicker, sad
And feeling bad!
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
Now the wedding had drawn to a close the ceremony past
We found ourselves together and thankfully alone at last
We packed our bibs and bobs into suitcases very quickly
Rushed straight out the door though I felt a little sickly
The shining taxi was waiting to whisk us away
Airport then plane our trip was finally underway
On the plane to his charms I was not immune
This was going to be our magical honeymoon
Coughing and spluttering in the hotel I did lay
Could not get out of bed each and every day
To cruise rugged fiords our plan said next
So out of my sick bed I raised perplexed
This is not what I was thinking to expect
Romance and passion seemed to disconnect
On a small ship along the rugged coast we then did sail
Reveling in the sweet air with every breath we inhaled
At last I thought my dream has finally come true
Our honeymoon would be joyous and not blue
At the Close of the day to the hotel we wandered
Through this night our love would not be squandered
It was wishful thinking we were soon to realize
The honeymoon room had a bed but only single size
This is not what we expected when we happily set out
Dreams of intimate passion is what we thought about
The journey continued at a sedate pace
The wonderful views put a smile on our face
Sadly food poisoning hit me I was constantly sick
Sat hours in the toilets, hubby didn't take the Mick
I can now look back at my honeymoon from hell
Twenty four years married we are doing quite well
Tongue twister poem is a self created form. In this form every line has a tongue twisting
effect with ample usage of Onomatopoeia...
~~~
Swishy swashy waves washing sea shores..
Splattering spluttering slowly foam scours..
Rumbling rambling whooshing, wave roars..
Cackling clashes cracking rocky cores..
Gushing winds growl, grumbling giddy..
Thumping tumbles every trembling tree..
Slashing splashing rushes rain..
Whizzing whooping plunking on window pane…
Sitting on stairs, staring stars at night..
Melting mellow in murmuring moonlight..
~~~
The rhyme-scheme used here is aabbccdd
Spluttering, Muttering and Stuttering
Mandruka was always a spluttering
Wife was always talking and muttering
Then came Frank who was always fluttering
Golly, Molly was always stuttering
Mandruka’s wife yelled stop that blundering.
Written: Aug. 11, 2015
Theresa Marie W-C
A good number of us decided to go on holiday down to the sea,
Well, it was such a fun crazy time and it ended far too quickly,
Every night a couples’ name was pulled out of the hat,
It was our turn to cook on the coming Saturday, fancy that,
We had to put on a good spread and decided to cook Greek,
Out we went on the morn ticked off each item, had to perform peak,
No-one was allowed in the kitchen when we were cooking,
The aroma wafted under the door, they were eager to come looking,
But we locked the door, and two hours later we rang the dinner bell,
The clan came quickly, it smelt divine, followed their nose and tasty smell,
Everyone was hungry So ample portions we served, it tasted so good,
We were complimented, Jane asked for a second serving of food,
So proud we were, one and all, enjoying our Cabernet and chatty dine,
But then something embarrassing happened, which wasn’t so fine,
A heaped spoon my friend placed in her mouth, we heard spluttering,
a cough and, oh my gosh,
Her empty spoon fell into the food with a thundering splattering splosh,
Jane quizzically picked this thing up, it had a tail, not a mouse, but a black plug,
With a bright shiny chain which took forever to reveal itself,
I wanted to crawl under the table but all I could do was blush, was it myself
or hubby, when washing the veg in the sink, accidentally picked it up potatoes
At first silence, then her hubby laughed, watch out for the salad and tomatoes
It has become a household joke between us and many a friend,
We were jovially asked what was the next Greek dish that we recommend!
Why can't some women stay on their feet?
Getting laid, down, soiled marks upon clean sheet
Wide open legs, what a filthy dirty cheat!
Do you brush your teeth after each new cock lick?
Or wipe yourself clean before the next guy inserts a clean dick?
At least a whore gets paid for every trick!!
The muttonish way you dress, like some old slapper
Spluttering rubbish like some stupid rapper
****** flaps with teeth like a red snapper!
The trust you break, with the illicit love you make
So many different men, surprised your insides don't ache
As you wriggle and writhe with any old snake!
Impossible to narrow it down, who gave you chlamidia?
I should just be grateful to be bloody rid of ya
I am free from you and your devil claw.
You broke my heart and you crushed my soul
Letting every prick into your dirty little hole
Burrowing deep inside like a short sighted mole!
Don't blame me, it's just my hormones
Or something similar is what the whore moans!!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull