Best Tattling Poems
Chit chattering so happily, in babyish first conversations,
Like treetop little birdies, sharing emerald observations,
Burbling giddily and gaily, as golden moments evanesce,
Tattling like garden beauty secrets, in the feverish press!
Jabbering enthusiastic jollity, in the success of noon sun,
Rumors of glad gibberish, as droning bees in gilt sudden,
Joyful, twittering chit-chat, at back fence of my gladness,
Gossiping with fascinated grandma, on a summer canvas.
OLD WOMAN
I am the old woman who lives in a shoe
I have so many children telling me what to do
Some are twenty, thirty, forty and fifty too
but to hear them all screaming you'd think they were two
Tattling and fighting, yelling, squawking, all through the night
arguing the same thing over and over until its daylight
Demanding, exclaiming that they are always right
always blaming the other no matter their plight
Spinning in circles no resolution to be found
the chaos unfolding just keeps me homebound
Enlarging their problems keeping others spellbound
They can't seem to focus it goes round and round
Lying and stealing, and cheating, they all accuse
The one whose accusing always has an excuse
Pointing the finger at others a tactic they use
Sick of the tantrums you become a recluse
They can't see the problem its all one big game
to see how much more they can milk from the old dame
They all want control of the shoe it's so lame
Tying the shoelace is driving me insane
Teaching these children each eyelet has a price
You can't skip one over it isn't deemed nice
Each hole you lace through is another bill to be paid
to lace through each one means more money must be made
Thoughts can't be gathered the frenzy causing delays
Old Mother those children are too old to relate
That they are responsible for divining their own fate
Promises are broken they can't really correlate
Old womans not their mother and wants a clean slate
The banshees are furious they don't want to pay
No understanding without old woman paving the way
the shoe will soon crumble and to dust, it will fade
So come on spoiled brats scream your lives away
Yell louder this is a cycle that's hard to escape
The shoe is the prison their own minds did create
Stop blaming and pay the house a fair rate
Listen before the old woman gets up and runs away
Kick rocks she tells them now to pay their own way
They scream louder when she turns the other way
Took her for granted but she was first not second rate
The years fall to the side as she leaves you to your fate
the vision of youth returning will soon resonate
Old Woman kicks her shoes off without delay
Now a young woman she turns her back and walks away
Turkey day is finally here, along with that mid-afternoon paralysis
Half the family made it this year, and thank God, 'cause we're short chairs!
Apple, pumpkin, and mince-meat pies fill the air with cinnamon dust-devils
Nevermind the barking dogs and screaming, running and tattling kids,
Kooky and drunk, your favorite uncle swears you can light a fart!
Surely we've got BIGGER fish to fry today.....how's them 'taters doin'?
Goodness knows how amazing Granny's poultry gravy is gonna be
I just hope some jerk doesn't bring that Jello with raisins, carrots, and lettuce......YUCK!!!!
Vodka is easily hidden in the various holiday beverages,
I swear it's the ONLY way I can tolerate half of my family!
No one's really that bad, but a little goes a long way!
God bless every single, dysfunctional, and oblivious one of us!
Dinner comes and goes........the herd migrates to the TV for pig-skin dramas
All say their goodbyes and don coats and scarves
YIPPE!!! They're all gone!!!......oh crap!!!! WHO'S gonna help with the dishes????
jim david
Blustering tornadoes of ire
spin from my head,
the blipping computer lost its net, yet again.
Even the background of rosy sundrenched sea
does little to quell the storm which brews
gremlins of an esoteric bent
skid with ease from flat screen~
~to flat screen attacking the saucy skirt of
the satellite dish next…
Soundless talking heads waggle tongues
tuneless dog tails, tattling tirades~
Green around the gills I salmon toward the kitchen.
going for tea but the gremlins get there first.
The microwave is fried black~
leaving me with an empty cup on my knobby knees
searching for the bone-dry kettle.
Ah well, having rounded the last pedal
of the third clover leaf ~’~
I smile, trouble only comes in three’s!
Dingy diapers
Yelling until tonsils are sore
No, you cannot eat all the candy
Because Mom said not to give you anymore
Hitting and tattling on siblings
Leaky mucus filled noses
Boy! am I glad you all don't belong to me
Your parents will soon be here to collect
Gather your "Wiggles" D.V.D's
You don't have to go home...
Wait you do, because
You sure as hell can't stay here
I have nothing against children
I'm just relieved that at the end of the day
You all belong to someone else
Because if left up to me
Child Protective Services
Would surely do an investigation
This is the last time,
I babysit for weed
Like cooperatives explicitly known
and felt,
most virtuous circle systems
love meaningful ecological theology,
a WinWin reiteratively continuous choice
grows political democratic
tit=tat resilience into multicultural perpetuity,
whether virtuous ego inside
and/or eco-habitat therapeutic outside.
Like implicit competitions,
not not corollaries make most vicious
LoseLose degenerative non-choices toward WinWin,
prejudicial leaning toward
inside ego-economic priority
over outside green theological opportunity,
continues stuck in pathological violent nihilism,
dissonant absence of resilience,
ego-inside rabid
as climate pathological revenge,
for anti-ecological LoseLose reactionary ecopolitical choices
militaristic
growing short-tempered mendaciously rabid
LeftBrain dominant expedience
Secular vicious cycles
pursue wealthy growth
to autonomously achieve fleeting desperate health,
before deficit played-out absence
of further future expiration dates
predicting Earth's pulselessness--
attenuated rootlessness
Sacred virtuous long-rooted recyclers
pursue ecotherapeutic healthy memories
of more nutritiously wealthy forests,
wild undomesticated RightBrain sacred spaces
To cooperatively achieve resiliently balanced
multicultural theology of meaning
ego-green wealth
pursuing ultra-nonviolent Tit health
for ultra-violet Tattling wealth...
Long-term cooperative virtues
absorbing short-term viciousness
EcoTherapy
absorbing EgoRabid Virality
Integrity
absorbing Dementia
Yin
absorbing Yang
Like cooperative cytosine
absorbing autonomous uracil.
This bowl is no longer mine,
was never so,
Let it go.
well worn before the oath,
A gift that despised the guardian,
Presented freely without a dowry in May.
tainted, and abandoned.
used, and widened by many.
too wide to keep a home.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
insatiable, licentious and libidinous.
The bowl was scorned by many.
ere i fell a wandering,
incorrigible, rebellious, untutored.
a bait on my way, the sorrow on my path.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
Like many seeking for prey, and so was i for a time.
intent concealed,,
desperate for the gift of the semen.
as adulterer urged rebellion by ignorance.
the rage, the rave of ego and bestiality.
deceived the Law for mere gain.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
It is broken cannot be fixed by logic.
this bowl is old, alluring by mascara.
This bowl was used,
i take exception on your list,
This bowl is free available to all.
the next victim can explore.
the bowl is cheap,
forced a dowry to conceal the shame.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
T'was sold for free at Ikoyi with ego,
Who is next?
A thousand many had the bowl,
I played along for a time,
ere this voyage of deceit,
I took a flight from restrain ,
hoping to make a jewel from the Flesh.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
This bowl is addicted to the red zones,
Incurable addiction i recalled,
The friends,
The internet,
The phone,
The TV,
The cinema,
And tattling,
The routines of unending dark flights
Incorrigible,
Venomous.
You may have the bowl if you would.
think no shame on me, I lusted.
This bowl is No longer mine.
Let it go
Once a street bowl,
and always so.
Find the bowl in your homes,
Let's hope the bowl recovers.
but a broken bowl is irreparable by man
Wishing you lots of birthday fun
And happiness till the day is done
I couldnt find a gift honestly
And since you really like poetries
Here i write to
Convey my wishes
Years passed laughing
Months went by hard working together
Nights elapsed in tattling
But I never realised that
You were the reason i was so busy and happy there always
Thankyou for always helping me with my delicates
Managing my white hair
From folding my sleeves to
Removing the stuck hair from my chain
Thankyou for always sleeping besides
When i had bad dreams
And also for wiping off my tears
In my bad times
Whenever anyone was in bad mood
You always tried to sing songs to cheer
Unfortunately god never gave you the power
To remember the lyrics and
No doubt the song never sounded good
There were times when
We shared our happinesses secretly
And also when we had fights
But after a little gnashing of teeth
We both use to become reasonable
And yes how could i forget to thankyou
For always talking to me
In the most slang and inappropriate manner
And also for laughing hard whenever i fell
Above lines were just included in the poetry
As a ray of hope for future improvement in your behaviour
I can write an endless poem
But the policies of this website doesnt let me do so
So here i wish you a long life with tons of happiness and success
And may you fly with colors and smiles
and make your parents proud!
Happy Birthday
And if at night the stars do come
shy in cautious dim
I quickly count them - the night is short
they give me time
if they have such a thing!
But, not the nights I need
The sun makes them shyer still
- brethren so science say
So why turn thy face away
The stars come silent
not in rows for addition ease
nor stay for common courtesy
then go before the sum
The skeptic pontiffs - they don’t know!
Thought they think they supremely skilled
could not conclude the count
because they are mortal still
The tinsel in the sky departs
The fever feigns away
Adoration in ancient glory goes
like some fainting holiday
The figures do confound
I wondered why I care
Those eyes - those static eyes!
When at supreme surprise they caught mine!
Shy my eyes were
What right do I comparing eyes of sky and yours?
A right that I should care is my defence
To count yours is easy day
Two compared to infinity you know!
But easier to add the stars in heaven
Rejection a deadly blow!
So, why on porch in cozy comfort I wave the sun away?
Lazy- lone and reminiscing of the eyes I saw that day
Quieter than tip toe
and if I ask - they come?
I need not send the invitation
They knew I was here
But - how if they cannot see?
Ahh!
That tattling sun!
Every moment is a potion mixing
in the adjoinisent wave.
Where possibility falls like raindrops,
leaving you with the wonder of knowing;
how things are to be, how it is to behave.
Do you remember a time the warm summer air
gave birth to hatchlings that cloud-bursted
into your makeshift oasis?
By the Sea a Pool or a Pond, River,
Lake or Stream.
Born out of the blue, streaking
and skinny dipping back in, like a fiend.
R-Will-searching for love's Strombolient Cave,
rippled in urging,- execution of means and way.
Bursting anew into a heat seeking ring;
a resurging the repurposing of will
and union and new beginning from that day.
A whispered hint, a sneak peek from one
that has a hard time keeping a secret.
I must say!
Condensation passes from Her dripping maw,
savors, in understanding,
favors our barrage of desires,
with flavors grinning long.
Possibility indeed falls like raindrops,
bursting wet and pure.
Standing at our precipice,
rapping at our gate,
demuir
circumstances courting you in a belly-dance,
around that trial by fire, pregnant with fertility,
forged by the desire of our contemplate, inspired nativity.
Mystery's lungs breathe in perfect timing.
The sigh, heard as an inaudible
bracelet rattle, singing, opining.
Skipping, smirking, teasing and tattling.
Mother Love in Love in the distance you can hear the humming feminine prattle.
Peddling, a dance of pounces onto bare footing,
for riding atop of and settling, saddling.
in happiness's tantric trance.
Gaia roundabout,
Straddling.
Fairied in a Feminine dream.
Ferried by empathy.
Stitching stitchlings into
hand-maidens and hand-maidens
into the fabrics seams.
Seems as if the Familiar lips,
the atmospheres sway of hips; adept
the sensor censer of Holy Smoke equipped
with Angelic Sound, an anonomous kiss,
above Consecrated Ground is not at all
remiss.
I am a Victim,
Lured by mascara, and by a pretext piety
Induced through lust by immoral vermin
I am a Victim
Blindfold through cunnings to fest on a plowed field,
“Whore scammed”, trapped in a net by the conspiracy of a blemished womanhood
I am a Victim,
Decoyed through the bait of an illusion to nurse the wound of another.
Oh! The Desdemona from whose path I avoided avowal
I am a victim,
Of marriage in Freetown, the offer of credit in dowry.
And the sharer chokes hastily by licentious and libidinous overwhelm.
I am a Victim,
Of a venomous revenge of a late marriage,
The brunt, the consequence of many abandoned lovers lurking still to watch my shame.
I am a victim,
Hauled from far off climes to be used, dumped after use
Suspended in the gale to fulfil an ambition.
I am a victim,
Of a clandestine unanimity of an unbroken vow,
Lust feigned for friendship dictates and plotted through covert text, my fall their aim
I am a victim
Of the conspiracy of “Exes” plotted by the bed lure,
Of hasty overturn to conceal the fraud by a blinded jury
I am a victim,
Defrauded, demonized, humiliated and ridiculed.
A bespectacled gargoyle masked the visages in the loss
I am a victim
They couldn't find in this clime, but must take a trip to seek,
and by secret oath through the court, concealed from affinity save one
I am a victim,
Semen sapped by a desperation to escape a stigma of nature,
And a sorrowing reflection of an impostor on my innocent seed
I am a victim
By revenges of many woes, still waited to plow on a stranger’s lap
Whose seed was taken through anger for mere gain,
I am a victim,
Bore the spatter of grim loss to a burying place and have since never ceased
I am a victim
Of this highest ambition in the vanity fair,
Ousted when a sincere investment was well worn by trickery
I am a victim
of their jeer, of a collective calumny of their bed tattling
of the usurping of fatherhood, of their banter and this grim gaunt wearied
I am a victim,
A reflective victim of conscience.
Of a story not fully told
Ostentatious bragging
Undermining people
Tattling and gossiping
Offending groups of people on purpose
Yacking without substance or purpose
Closed minds
Old-people-generalizations
Messing with other people’s property
Fierce Ferociousness
Ogling and cat-calling women or men
Rumor-mongers who want to stir people up
Teasing to see tears
Zealous insistence on their own narrow-minded way
Outrageously lying and stealing
Needless bickering and arguing
Exclaiming false declarations of winning
Closet Humor
Written: by Miracle Man
11-19-2019
There are things in each past,
which are kept recondite.
Some call them secrets,
because they’re kept from others sight.
But seems every closet,
that hides a skeleton from sight.
Comes an untimely occasion,
when that skeleton causes fright
Once the “cat’s out of the bag”
and the bones start rattling.
“Faster than small town gossip”
tongues begin tattling.
I can keep a secret, It’s those I tell, who can’t.
Tom
very morning i hear her cycle chains clanging,
changing gears on the curvy corner down the street,
it makes me wonder if she has wavy brown hair,
matching chocolatey eyes full of summer hormones,
i stuff my mouth with pancakes
chewing on the fantasy of us cycling down the beach,
tyres sinking in the sand, dancing in the sunrays,
my blue summer dress flowing like the waves
that caress the seashore &
her yellow hat with mellow tinges of the sun-
i wake early the next morning to see her,
cycling down the street but all i see is
an old mail car rattling & tattling across,
i return home feeling like a yak, buried
somewhere under the piles of fury thoughts on my back,
but i like it this way,
the way the summer girl with her yellow hat
will just pass by my house every morning &
yet again I will just imagine meeting her,
finish my pancakes and nod my head to
the loneliness sitting on the couch.
Mitchamaboola a trolling woman with a mean demeanor
Was losing her eyesight, according to her tattling dog, Weiner.
He told everyone he knew and some he did not even know.
She never knew who it was, because she was kind of slow.
She never suspected Weiner because he was a trickster for sure.
Pretending he could not speak human, masquerading as pure.
Mitchamaboola accused every person in her family and cut them off.
Sly dog Weiner laughed at her behind her chair, rolled his eyes and scoffed.