Best Stutters Poems
Pigtails loosen yet messed,
twisted by pliant fingertips
of evening’s devilry…
tracing her budding breasts,
embers gleam from a lamplight, dim…
his jerked breathing quickens to rake
this young, tender flesh---
from pink , blood red, to pale yellow... despicable!
Invading her territory,
the blister of muffled silence
grates adolescent wails,yet…
crazed feasting of desire remains.
She quivers under a toppled quilt
brushed in wounded cotton...despicable!
And while darkness slides on metal frame,
he riles, riles with abandon,
grinning under a sinister moon
arsenic as the sweat of male hunger
to ravage a girlish body... trembling, trembling
while her cupped mouth stutters,
‘Please step-dad, no!’
‘Hush…dear baby, I am your angel,
guarding you from evil wolves..despicable!
Quietly, he pins the knob of conquest
until the frail child's porcelain doll
splatters on the floor, and then…
.............
Re-Posted /1/2017
Contest: Let's Talk About It
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
Categories:
stutters, abuse, evil, girl,
Form:
Free verse
A love poem
How do you write a love poem
First of all:
You need inspiration
The best inspiration
Is a person
to love
Or to hate even
Yes, even hate or jealousy
can be an awesome prompt
to write about
whatever
you once felt
Or perhaps puppy love
for that little boy with braces
two blocks down the road
from where you lived
Or even secret love for that
stud that never saw you
because you're that wussie
that nerd that stutters
So how DOES one write a love poem?
Never EVER use the word 'love'
it's a cliche
all critics in the world agree
on that one
also never use:
"kissing your moist lips"
'kissing' is a gerund
'your moist lips'
is a cliche worse than 'love'
Then how to write a love poem?
How would I know?
I've never written a decent one!
***
August 5, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
stutters, love, poetry, words,
Form:
Free verse
Cold Monday morning
He mumbles under his breath
Car engine stutters
As he turns the key in vain
Temperature is rising.
----------------------------------
Written ~ 20th March, 2015
Contest: Tanka 2
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed: 4th
Categories:
stutters, morning,
Form:
Tanka
An odyssey through hurdles, yet a blessing it is to dwell on earth,
Aiming for destination beloved, chasing sweet dreams of mirth,
Through successes and failures, amid joys and woes, since birth,
Life can be hurricanes and storms, but living it justifies its worth.
Sometimes life beams with hope, sometimes despairs in throes,
Navigating peaks and troughs, undulating with highs and lows,
Yet, unyielding to reign of angst, life rejects doldrums of sorrow,
Aspiring boldly to sunny horizons, hosting endeavors of morrow.
Life, a realm of virtues divine, resounding endearment of love,
A benediction, an endowment, a gift from the heavens above;
Its paradigms and precepts reverberate from temple of soul,
Echoing sapience of enlightenment, teachings paramount toll.
On strength of sheer endurance, aspirations of dreamers soar,
Flexing willpower of ambitions, resolutely they bring to fore,
As life rewards strenuous efforts, striving for its worthy goal,
Fulfilling purpose of tomorrow, triumphs of achievers extol.
Life toddles, stumbles and falls, enduring as it learns to walk,
It stutters, it babbles thoughts, yet persists as it learns to talk,
Cognizant over time, sorting good from bad, right from wrong,
Obeying tenets of morals and values, guiding humanity lifelong.
Categories:
stutters, life,
Form:
Rhyme
There was no closure of a proper goodbye.
I tried, but...
no reply.
Your body became limp and cold as
a corpse.
We froze alone
in different time warps.
My ambiguous stutters
wouldn't disappear.
They pinched as they burrowed
like earwigs in each ear.
My mouth opened slowly
to suck the words back in.
Then the dead revived
and embraced my skin.
My heart bloomed in profusion
like first love's lilac.
With lips on lips
you took my words back.
Categories:
stutters, analogy, first love, goodbye,
Form:
Rhyme
When tons of doom filled nights fall upon your head,
embers glow fierce and fires burn unabated.
Recalling her last breath and wish you were dead
in poem's last line, you've been beat and castrated.
From the heavens, a voice thunders out dire threats
about loses and late breakfasts without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your foolish bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to bitter, burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawns hammer truly fell.
Last nights burns are reminders of your tortured life.
You stumble and look up from pits of dark raging hell,
recounting now the true reasons you lost your wife.
Your alarm clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your dark house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, sad wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with it's huge wretched lucent moon.
Dreaming of hungry tigers eating your new boots.
your house perched atop two tall adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; it is not a tiger that he shoots.
Second angry wife cuts your legs off at the knees
Metaphor amputations are so savagely sever.
Your spirit cries out I must flee, tiger is near.
The tiger roars with laughter, I own all your pain.
Second lioness purrs with abject contempt and disdain
Your old slaughtered heart bleating faint cries out.
Memories tainted and dreams coercing a shout.
In abyss of regret the famished tiger dines.
You struggle to cope, tree sways breaking it's vines.
What of taunting lioness who's false words defame?
Half muted stutters quivering lips murmur blame.
Muttered niceties in deep with disgust feigned.
Tiger haunting your dreams, as King it truly reigns.
Will you take a stand your courage regained?
Can you bare the cost, can you bear the pain?
Be strong take back what your past gains.
Clean the slate wipe away the shameful stains.
Climb up from the depth of hells dark pits.
Replace dawns hammer with soft cotton mitts.
Let satisfied lioness purr, hunt the raging tiger.
Be happy, be proud of regaining your swagger.
WRITTEN WITH ONE OF THE BEST POETS I KNOW.
ROBERT LINDLEY FOR THE CHALLENGE ON HIS BLOG.
THANK YOU ROBERT FOR CHOOSING TO WORK WITH ME.
Categories:
stutters, dream, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Johnny stutters when he's nervous
Gina skipped to school one day
Janice lost her favorite ruler
In the backyard yesterday
Where is my pizza
It was in the microwave
Someone came and ate it up
And left the crumbs right here
Corona virus spreading fast
Wash your hands and wear a mask
The weak will die the strong survive
We need to breathe to stay alive
Who took my pizza
I put it in the microwave
Someone greedy ate it up
Left the crumbs right on the bed
Stomp your feet and stand up proud
Clap your hands and pray...
We are the survivors
Survivors of a pandemic plague
Still roaming for victims
It's airborne infecting prey
Time is running out the door
Sun is setting on our shores
People come and people go
Love is all that's left to show
You're the one that's meant for me
The woman of my fantasies
I've set my sails on charted course
Soon I'll be anchoring at your port
Who ate my pizza
Someone will have to pay
Is it Gina, Janice or Johnny
Send delivery by the way
Who ate my pizza
It was in the microwave
Someone left an empty plate
The pepperoni's in my brain
Categories:
stutters, humor, inspirational, life,
Form:
Verse
pale yellow shards of brittle glass
shatter under my feet
as I stroll along this grey patchwork of concrete
and if the world stutters precarious on its spurious axis,
I pay it no mind
the ice of my pupils melts into inky lashes
that bleed cold down my face
and in my head,
I conjure a universe where
every contradiction, every illusion you did not believe in this one
becomes a reality
all around me,
there are people breathing autumn air who know the art of exhaling
their throats don’t choke, and their tongues don’t freeze
at the thought of forgetting the taste
and that is what I remember hope to be
the galaxies and supernovas and black holes in my chest-
I am tired of their weight
it’s too much for a person, and I am just half of one
so I tell myself it’s not selfish
to fall to frail knees on a faded sidewalk
to double over in searing throes
and give up on starry eyes,
even if it is their memory
that dusts begotten leaves
their golden brown edges crumble into goodbyes
under callous feet
Categories:
stutters, autumn, goodbye, howl, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
My memory is like an ill-tempered old car
that refuses to start
on cold, miserable mornings...
or sometimes stutters
and shudders to life
in fits and starts with rattling parts
Names and faces of those behind me
shrouded and clouded in thick exhaust fumes
'til memory resumes and smoke starts to clear
...oh, what was the year?
Then suddenly (without warning)
the engine revs high, and I start to fly
downhill fast, into the past
brakes not responding, gripping the wheel
too much to feel
that terrible fear- stuck in high gear...
Old trauma impacts like a car crash
re-living events that
don't always make sense
deadly debris and jumbled bits of trash
litter my head, feeling half-dead
confused, in a mild state of shock
Although a car is a useful thing-
sometimes it's safer to walk!
Categories:
stutters, emotions, feelings, memory, remember,
Form:
Free verse
Oh Caroline! Caroline
My heart never ceased to beat
tears continue to trickle down my cheeks
And my lips still quiver,
Tremble at the mention of you
I reach out to you
Hold my hand, please!
Don't shut me out again
In all these months apart
I still feel faint,
tormented by memories of us
What did I ever do to you?
Caroline!
Rivers have since dried up
Heavens weep no more
No more do torrents pour forth
Yet my heart continues to bleed
My eyes still seek you
Amidst the tall kukiwu grass
Deep in the narrow gorges
My heart longs for yours
Once we were kindred spirits
Mine hopes for your beat
But you're quiet!
Your silence is deafening
Echoing unsang taunts
Over and over in my head
My ears are shut to your shouts
My eyes are open but can't see
I search in vain.
Caroline please!
The dust has long settled,
Birds have left their nests,
Flowers have since bloomed
And this heat still torments my lonely heart
Yet you stay away.
I'm stuck in a dark rut
Dug down a sink of old memories
I wallow in lost pastimes
And converse only of ancient fights
What use are these now,
When you shout alone, in your abyss?
We are burdened
Worn out by the moss gathered mid way
Our minds are darkened by grief
Our hearts are heavy with weary
Dread drapes her claws around us.
Oh Caroline! I'm lost for words.
My tongue stutters, my lips dry
I'm afraid,
I fear when you do come
Like the seasons, I'll be gone
Return Caroline!
Or we shall forever be lost in regret.
© Moliehi Molupe Koeshe 2017
Categories:
stutters, dark, true love,
Form:
Ode
How do I tell her?
There is no way for sure
She deserves to know
Here I go
"I need to tell you something..."
I let those words ring
This has to be the day
"I don't know how to say-"
'Say that you love me?
Say that we were meant to be?
That when you hear my name your heart flutters
That when you try to talk to me all that comes out is stutters?'
'Say that when you see me I glow?
That to me you just can't say no?
Say that I make your head spin round and round
Say that I make you feel like your floating above the ground?
'Say that you dream about me all the time
You were waiting for me to give you some sort of sign
Say that we should be together
That you want me forever and ever?'
I sat there and stared how did she know?
This is not how I wanted it to go
I bet she'll never love me back
"How did you know all of that?"
'Because I love you
And all that I said was true for me too
And now that I know we were made for each other
I shall never love another...'
Categories:
stutters, loveme, love, me,
Form:
Quatrain
I've walked barefoot through boiling sand, you don't even know.
Tried many times to grasp your hand, you don't even know.
To letters written then burnt; signals typed then canceled -
I rode this crazy train unmanned, you don't even know.
Sent roses signed anonymous to inspire a smile;
I sat and watched but didn't stand, you don't even know.
A picnic atop the roof, watching stars reflect off
of blue eyes . . . all this I had planned, you don't even know.
Timothy stutters at the words so instead he writes;
he's tried his best to tell you and you don't even know.
Categories:
stutters, anxiety, emotions, fear, feelings,
Form:
Ghazal
PPPPPardon mmme bbbut I hahave a sssspech iiimpppedement Ssso could yyou pplease bbear
wwith mme. TThis hhas bbeen mmy llife. Sometimes its nnot as bbad aas others aand other
times it is mmuch wwworse. IIT hhas cccaused mmme mmmany pproblems iin mmy llife. II
aallways gggot iinto aa lllot oof fffights bbbbbecaause pppeopple wwwwould mmmake fffun
ooof mmme. Once I get ccomftorable wwith the people aaround me it almost sseems tto
disappear. When iits jjust my wife, daughter, close fffriends etc. iit dddoes’t bbother me
aas bbad because III kknow tthat tthey llove mme. When its just my wife and I talking it
is so beautiful because I am free to speak my heart, sometimes I sstill stutter bbut not
sso often.
Recently I wwas sssent bby aaa llady nnamed LLinda PPParker wwho wworks ffor ttthe
DDept. of RRhabilitation tto mmeeet wwith aaanother llllady nnamed NNNacy BBBarcal wwwho
iiiis a sssspeech ppppatologist and sshe fffitted mme wwwith aa ddevice nnamed SSSpeeech
EEasy and aas sssoon as sshe ttturned iit oon II tttalked jjust llike tthis. Pardon me but
I have a speech impediment though you wouldn’t know it because I’m now wearing the “speech
easy” device. I know you thought that it was a hearing aid but no my hearing is just fine.
Written for the Dialect Contest. I realize it's not what
was expected but how could I pass on the opportunity
to tell of such an amazing life changing device. If you
are a stutter such as myself I urge you to check out
www.speecheasy.com or www.janusdevelopment.com
it has most certainly changed my life in a big way!
Categories:
stutters, recovery from...life, me,
Form:
Free verse
The Ghost Train
North Wind, it was a howling, the sky was black as guilt
Malevolent the sheen, where upon her moonbeams spilt
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Roaring down the line, she was roaring down the line
Charging down the line, the Ghost Train rolls tonight
She glides along the platform, where haunted faces wait
With dreams of grand ambition, that only she can slate
The driver in his blood red suit, turns a skeletal grin
Toward the hungry hopefuls, then ushers each one in
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “We can’t be late”
For time is money and money won’t wait
With shovels full of human desire
He fuels the fire of hate
The whistle cord is pulled, the flag flutters all clear
The engine she is plied, starts the journey into fear
On it goes a rumbling,
On it’s round iron feet
Inside the folk are tumbling
From every leathered seat
Amid the laughter and the chants
What life, what love, what times
Everyone is held entranced
By ghostly railway lines
Tittle tattle chatter, ash from the chimney pours
Natter rattle clatter, onward the Ghost Train roars
Strange games are played
Some win some lose
Sincere thank you’s become mislaid
As each the other use
Beneath the load the earth she quakes
As all aboard debauch
Done deals and shady handshakes
On every carriage porch
Kerching-kerching-kerching, the till bell rings
More-more-more, the engine softly sings
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine, right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “we can’t be late”
For power is waiting and power is great
With shovels full of human remains
He fuels the fire of hate
In never ending search, she roams across the land
Controlled by the evil, of the blood red suited hand
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Charging down the line, the Ghost train rolls tonight
If it pulls into your station
Will you jump upon its frame?
Will you lose all inhibition?
On your way to wealth and fame
For when the ride is done
There’s no-one else to blame
If you find you become
Another furnace flame.
Categories:
stutters, dark,
Form:
Epic
Wander in my poem,
As if on the beaches of Copacabana.
Lay down on every one of its words,
as if on the warm, hazelnut sand.
Let the sun color your skin
and rest upon your back.
Forget who you are,
as I have been trying to do for so long.
For I have smelled you in my Santos coffee
And heard you laugh in the MPB accordions;
And my sight has never seen a shade of green and yellow
without your ambling silhouette.
Eu te vejo na cada esquina da rua.
What is to be done
when one is so happily wretched?
I write for there is more solace in writing
than in my unsettling contemplation;
For you dwell even in my logic,
Disturbing my every sense,
Disquieting my every silence,
leaving there no logic whatsoever;
My mind like São Paulo in rush hour;
My body in a state that no simile
can ever contain.
As you approach, like Sunday morning tropical rain,
No umbrella to hide under today,
no worthless poetry to write, no imploring words to say;
For my Arab tongue stutters
with Portuguese dismay,
as if censored in another
Freudian dream theory;
For after all,
no one dares to speak of arbitrary passion.
Wander in my poem,
as if on the beaches of Copacabana.
Let my verses melt in desire like moss on a stone.
Let me laugh at myself as I read through them
until this desire ceases to be my own.
Categories:
stutters, lost love, travel, desire,
Form:
Free verse