Best Stammering Poems
Author: Joseph Osita
From the swamp
Haunts me the tears of my blood
Stripped of all hope-the soil to shelter
And banished to swim in oil-poisoned sea
Do they know
Ghost of revenge haunts the weeping soul?
From the swamp
All sorrow-veiled mourners gather
To unfold reaper's choice of the day
As muscles are crushed by soldiers’ bullet fury
Poised by Hobson's choice
Young men breed strength for crime
For ghost of revenge is haunting the weeping soul
From the swamp
Haunts me the stammering musket of angry souls
Where owners beg stealers the share of oil
And the dead man’s amnesty is of twilight solution
For ghost of revenge will forever haunt the weeping soul
On the oil rich people of Niger Delta who are given peanuts by Nigeria government, despite oil companies’ excessive spillage in the region.
The people hauled their anger against the government but were apprehended by Nigerian Army.
For Michael J Faloticho's 'Sounds of a cry'
contest
03/08/2011
Categories:
stammering, death, depression, sympathy, people,
Form:
Free verse
1#
Brewed tea
Wife and myself
Nothing between us
2#
He was metamorphosed
Into a frog
When his wife had left him
3#
I needed
A lonely woman
Thousand years back
4#
She shivered
In yellow sun
Struck by her coyness
5#
God travels
With three suitcases
One for me
6#
I kissed
Her frostiness
And my lips turned icebergs
7#
The bed
Gets embarrassed
At our nakedness
8#
Her hands
Stopped me
To pick evenings
9#
We two rested
In a cave of Kundalini
Behind the waterfall
10#
The alien woman
Travelled six moons
To deliver her baby in a burial ground
11#
An eagle swoops
On a field –mouse
Tables of wedding
12#
The woman kissed me
I felt her hollow ribs
As if in a spring dream
13#
The woman’s hair
Struck by a gale
Made waterfalls
14#
My wife locked
Me one fine evening
In my neighbour’s hole
15#
The rats are away
When mice take in
My wife’s clammy face
16#
The summer rain
In exasperation
Took wings to raid the moon
17#
Lolo my wife
Her green sleek steps
Thundered an innocent fly
18#
In the dead of night
God made two wives
One for me one for my neighbour
19#
My neighbour’s wife
Delivered a child
When I was asleep
20#
The woman said goodbye
And I took a fish for dinner
I mistook it for my wife
21#
My wife is a canvas
Where I paint
My forebodings
22#
A painter’s apprentice
In sheer foolishness
daubed in red my wife’s rear-view
23#
A squirrel saw my wife
And in haste
Lost her guava
24#
I was caught in neighbour’s bedroom
By my wife last summer
I lost my glasses
25#
A wolf entered the graveyard
Unannounced
And annoyed my wife
26#
Sarah my wife
Lumbering
Dizzy commuters
27#
Sarah wed me
And in brief forgetfulness
Greeted my neighbour
28#
A tiger ate Sarah my wife
It happened by accident
The tiger knows
29#
Morning bell
Wake up call
I want to sleep
30#
Pola my pet fly
Fouled things up
She ate my wife’s breakfast
31#
My dog Pintu
Hydrophobia
I set him free on my wife’s posterior
32#
Eons ago a butterfly
Gave birth to my wife
Now, a caterpillar
33#
A hard slap
Stammering
Hurricane Sarah will win
34#
You have gathered enough winters
Woman sighs
Leave one for me
35#
The woman flapped her wings
To clouded mountaintops
Silky as white
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Categories:
stammering, god, grave, water, wedding,
Form:
Haiku
It is a gorgeous spring day, there are greens on both sides of the road.
The smells are fantastic, and my hair is blowing like I’m on a cycle.
I’m actually driving my new purple trans am, windows down, music blaring.
The white racing stripes might have been a bit much, but
Not for me. The sun is beaming on us with magic happy.
BRRRR BRRRR GRRRR
Should I try to outrun him?
He’s gaining on me fast. I glance at speedometer. Swear.
82 m.p.h. This is what happens when I listen to the Oldies.
I pull off, waiting, heart beating fast.
Lanky patrolman pulls himself out of car, gets younger as he gets closer.
“Hi,” I say, brightly.
He says, “License and registration, Ma’am.”
He is carrying his ticket pad, and a pen.
My hands are shaking as I start stammering nonsense.
He studies my license a second, says, “Just a minute, Ma’am,”
Walks back to his car, slides in, sits down, spends an hour or two in there.
I get worried I might have accidentally handed him my big-limit Visa card.
My heart is thudding, as I watch him laboriously walk back to my Trans Am
Who is not feeling so fine and foxy now. “It’s your fault!” I tell her. “You did this!”
“You were going 81,” he tells me. Eighty-two, I wisely don’t say.
“I am giving you an opportunity to slow down, and today, I’m giving you a warning,” he says.
No smile. No expression. He could give a mannequin a lesson in subtle.
I cannot help it. “Why?”
A glimmer of an ant’s smile starts in the left corner of his mouth, for a second, but he quickly snaps it off.
“Here’s the deal, Ma’am,” he tells me. “I stopped this car yesterday, on this same curve. I wouldn’t feel right about giving you a ticket on the same corner, at the same speed after letting your 17-year-old daughter off with a warning.”
In my head I picture my adorable blonde daughter who was wearing white hot-pants yesterday.
As a last hurrah he says, “I’m going to be out here for another two hours, Ma’am.”
We both smile.
This is the best warning I’ve ever had!
Categories:
stammering, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
In evening, the evergreen forest darkens while the cool breeze relaxes my
thoughts. The lone trees silhouette against the yellow sky and setting sun. Trials are
ever present in my thoughts; darker thoughts than the serene dusk can muster.
Candles burn in a row along the porch rail. His dark eyes peer through my reverie to
touch deep in my soul. He doesn't know how he makes my pulse race and thoughts
go purely lustful. My reaction has to be kept from his piercing eyes. My eyes roam
over his face openly in the candle light and lingers on his philtrum...I long to kiss him
right there, over and over.
His voice returns my thoughts back to reality, "mam will you need any other
chores done tonight?" Stammering I say "No...that will be all. tomorrow will be a hard
day due to the cattle sale. Better get a good nights sleep." The cowboy's hat tips as
he retreats into the bunk house. I hear the clop of his boots go silent and enjoy the
view of his backside walking away. Wondering what it would be like to see his eyes
go to fire at my touch....I have to get a grip on my thoughts....before....
Categories:
stammering, adventure
Form:
Narrative
the last tastes of summer slowly evaporate on my tender tongue.
no longer will fresh strawberries burst outside my cottage window,
nor will the smell of blooming lilacs fill my lungs.
as the first chills of changing seasons graze my skin,
gently rubbing my arms, i feel goosebumps forming from within.
the sunlight of hope gives way to the dusk of sorrow,
frost glistening as stardust reflects on autumn leaves.
a misty fog rolls in over the browning hills,
whilst isolation begins to take hold.
the distant birdsong of an owl echoes through the painful landscape.
staggering toward the unkempt window,
i shut the lightly dusted shutters,
so just for a brief moment in time, despondent worlds disappear.
behind a fabricated reality,
i can pretend with my indebted shadows.
stammering, i find the play button on my stereo;
goodbye to you rings in my mournful ears~
as the final warmth of yesterday shifts into the bitterness of perpetuity,
leaving my somber sky adorned with pixelated promises,
while this heart longs for an ethereal escape
from a raven-winged horizon,
cloaked in cracked amethysts and jinxed crystals.
Categories:
stammering, gothic, imagery, poetry, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
What's the scariest book you ever read?.. Some Stephen King book like "Salem's Lot" or "The Shinning"?
For me its Kate Millett's "Sexual Politics".. Oh, man.. Now THAT will scare you to death if you're female.
I discovered a man, (overheard) at my church, who actually believes his sex a sign of power, and of superiority..
WHY am I so startled? Some childish trust not yet scrubbed off? - Or worse yet some belief, not yet strangled, in a better world?
See, stupid me, I thought this bill had been paid, by sufferance, by real people like Elizabeth Stanton, Carrie Catt and Martin King.. by entire generations who ran through those tangled woods emerging cut and bruised.. if at all.
What is it like for HIM? I see him eying us, his little inferiors who bleed with the moon, with secret, catlike distaste.. regarding female opinions as slightly impure then, with calm, God like grace, granting the form of servant to assume.
Can I, can we, be forced to accept this inheritance? I don't know..
All I know is that this prejudice, so strangely without substance, strikes me like the duelers lucky thrust robing me of attendant rights and wit.. springs that tender trap of doubt in the future and abandons me to stammering.
Categories:
stammering, community, political, prejudice, social,
Form:
Free verse
I noticed her two weeks ago.
She flew into my physics lab
like hell itself was after her
and tripped as she sat down.
She's always late for classes,
stammering her apologies,
flustered and myopic, her glasses
barely perched upon her nose.
Accident-prone, she barreled
through the library like Grant
attacking Richmond, giggling nervously
as she checked out her books.
To me she is a treasure, a whirling
dervish dressed in black and white,
always black and white, like for her
it's some particular religion.
I asked her to the movies. She acted
like I was the first who'd ever taken
interest, she was flattered but she
flatly and decidedly said no.
She had thrown down the gauntlet,
so I set out to woo her with my wit
and charm, taking every opportunity
to bump into her when and where I could.
Finally she acquiesced, and when
she slowed down enough to smile
and chat and laugh and joke with me
my heart was hers to keep!
Categories:
stammering, love
Form:
Quatrain
The globe doth spin, as we walk perpendicular.
I find, this fact, indeed this most peculiar.
Stammering, stuttering we yammer about fixing the earth!
Yet read the poetry, full of how, "it does not work".
Perhaps we should all look in the mirror and wonder why,
The universe outshines our peevish, constant complaints and cries.
How ungrateful many nations be, wanting to control our freedoms and chosen, individual destinies.
The genuine individual is insulted, scoffed at, or not recognized at all.
Just the sheep, who follow lead shepherds, get acknowledgement
at all.
12-28-2020
11:30am PST
Categories:
stammering, humanity, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
I am sitting in hovel writing nothing
For the hovel has taken every last drop of energy.
Hey, wait. Is that an ant?
An ant in the winter?
What is she doing?
I get out my magnifying glass of course.
She is wearing a backpack full of something that has a sweet smell.
Pardon me, I say. Can I have a tiny taste of that?
You would take the food out of the mouth of sixty ants? She asks me.
Lucky that I talk ant.
I back away.
Trixie walks over and kicks my hand.
You are horrible! She tells me.
I had forgotten I was supposed to wake her when I got up.
There is nothing more exasperating than an angry muse.
Thought you’d write something without me?
Well, yes, um….. I am stammering now.
We kind of have a little rule.
She whisks away and stomps off.
Out of all the muses in all the imaginations
in all of the universes, I developed a female muse?
Hmmmmmm I have to ponder that.
But not right now.
The ant is doing a tango and her backpack just flew off.
Categories:
stammering, friend, friendship, friendship love,
Form:
Free verse
In the fact shifting, below my graces
The path is enlightening in the mist
Open to my senses, I hear nothing
Fog enhanced being walks and does resist
Beyond the shining white shroud, finitely
I see myself in the depths of darkness
Looking outward into the starry light
Surely peeking through the shores of progress
Stammering I bask in the blinding white
Other side I ventured and sought after
I cannot see, but I smell some flowers
Each one perfectly shown not to differ
I walk into the unknown before me
But comforted by desire, secretly
Russell Sivey
Categories:
stammering, life,
Form:
Sonnet
While shopping for groceries, this sweet young filly
Bent over which made me act very silly
Accidentally bumped her behind
Which was quite well defined
Starting stuttering and stammering involuntarily
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
stammering, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Confidence and believing are two ingredients
that we all need to realise the vision
throughout life doubts fill the mind
lacking that something to make decision
Throughout life struggled in speech
stammering non fluent whatever it be
but thinking I can't speak normal like
always believing it can't be done not by me
Filled by doubts of the next word
always not able unsure tongue tied
telling one self cannot do it
all of one hopes have nearly died
On my wedding day believing I can do it
to say my vows fluently complete
this I did confident believing anew
no stammer that day it did delete
Even the speech at reception went fine
what a day to see vision realise
even just for these moments
makes one's confidence certainly rise
(This came from thinking on the following quote-
"There is no faster way to bring about misfortune than to think it is coming.
Thought is a powerful force, and it is a creative tool
that many people give little energy to --
or abandon in the face of any real threat
to safety or stability.
What are you worried about today? Why?
Rather than worry about it, would it not be
a better use of your mental time to visualize
a positive outcome? Use your mind in this way today
and you will have tapped one of the most
extraordinary tools God has placed in your hand
for the creation of your tomorrows.") - F.L. Lucan
Categories:
stammering, spoken word, stress, visionary,
Form:
Rhyme
My drapes are drawn tight,
in the morning of our afternoon,
after the fall – beyond the light
of a silent evening spent.
Dusk spits a new shine
upon the facets of my mood ring
and sunrise alarms me again.
Fish hooks evenly lure my smile
into place - when bated breaths
are baited by an anticipated gentry -
and the inverted frown I wear
stretches undetected
when performing
index-fingered handstands
for the empty allured.
Such a celebration am I.
A firecracker when we kiss.
"The sun sets in his eyes...
succulent, cabbage-red and resplendent…”
Clichéd stammering; dulled
as you turn your softly curved frame
into a prisoner's unresolved sensitivities.
Nonetheless...the innocent know -
His touch is real. Feathered, soft -
even when the entranced cripple is sobbing.
Roman candles sparkle
within a distant vagabond’s eyes.
Starch him!
Savor the moment!
He'll voluntarily burst forth -
and everything you'd want from
a strayed waif's aorta will be
auctioned back...
and eventually sold.
Like ruby-hued vegetables.
Like drawn drapes.
Like morning…
when biting your pillow case
neatly grinds waking into the laughable...
…and a forgotten sunrise
toasts the unremembered misfit
as an invisible champagne cork - pops!
Categories:
stammering, introspection, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Night after lonely night, as I lay all alone in our bed
my eyes fill with tears as I recall the words I left unsaid
I know I often told you how much you meant to me
but I never thought I'd ever say, "Please, let me be."
You were not my first love, and I know I wasn't yours
By chance we met, since we lived on opposite shores
What hand did fate deal to us on the night we were wed
Our hearts were full of love, there was nothing left unsaid
We lived in a euphoric world of happiness and bliss
I fell more deeply in love with you with each tender kiss
Our moonlight walks, holding hands are distant memories
I wish we'd tried to talk it out, when I have sad reveries
Those moments from the past are pains I sorely dread
I often wonder if you ever think of things you left unsaid
Time has passed, but my heart still misses what we had
When I first left you, I was as lost and restless as a nomad
You called a few times, but we never said the right words
only chatted about trivial things, stammering like silly birds
It's too late to mend our love. We can't use needle and thread
What would we say to each other that hasn't already been said?
:................................:
9/21/2017
U Pick the Form
#4 "unsaid"
hosted by Broken Wings
Categories:
stammering, lost love, words,
Form:
Couplet
The staccato stammering of bass guitars
punctuated the flash of strobe lights.
Limitless vistas of black and gray;
smothering the crowd in ghoulish poses.
Framed, as if frozen, in a glow of acid white.
Some stagger, their movements mimicking,
the rigors of death or birth?
Others jerk puppet like
upon invisible, randomly clipped, strings.
And, as the music grinds to a halt,
driven by the apocalyptic pace of the Disc Jockey,
and the hard scratching sound of synthesizers;
the charmed, trance dancers disperse;
swallowed whole by the shadows.
*St. Vitus's dance was a social phenomenon
that occurred primarily in mainland Europe
between the 14th and 18th centuries;
it involved groups of people, sometimes thousands at a time,
who danced uncontrollably and bizarrely.
Men, women, and children would dance
through the streets of towns or cities,
sometimes foaming at the mouth
until they collapsed from fatigue....and the beat goes on....
Categories:
stammering, allegory, angst, art, confusion,
Form:
Free verse