she is a blithering goat and obnoxiously grievous . urinalysis will prove her to be unsatiated
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
blithering bookstore :
always bullfinch
fanatical melange of meditation
victorian tippytoe
downwind flatus
grievous prospect for luridness
pyrophobia ; remodeled
hallelujah !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
bareheaded and blithering
grievous to prove
my increasing feminization
with victorian meditation
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
When my hand lets loose the pen
Lamp-less face I such parting darkness --
Preordained that Passing-night! God’s plan
So decrees, we all come home His timing~
Naughty wanderers, reclaimed beloved strays.
Then you must write for me, dear brothers
And sisters – that which yet need better said
And would I were it not for parting bed,
My throbbing head, blessed pillow of down
Such inevitable sleep no point longer fighting --
I hear the angels, sniff the starry-seas;
Hearken to the oars of Eternal ferry. Be not sad,
But glad for me. We will meet again, somewhere
Beyond the known dippers, to sail fondly further as
Blithering Gilligans and Compassless Skippers.
---------------------------------------------------------------
(No, I am not ill, that I am aware of. Just thought I would get this out of the way while still well and able:))
Leanna Wee, a jammy fey headed toward Doolin on Sunday
An assignment from the leprechaun wild, the old one, gray
without faffin around, she went right for the pub to find
a young artist named Collin, who was clever and kind
He had a draiocht way about him, this Irish lad of Doolin
Leanna was ready to woo him, and was in no wee way fool’n
By the time she had woven her magic, he was under her spell
she could have led him to go for a poke or down the dell
By the time Leanna Wee was finished courting this young guy
He was a blithering blathering gobe, but still remained shy
She took all of his energy, and got younger as her skin got pretty
a craic personality, she now seemed unbelievably witty
the young guy was never the same after this encounter by chance
he barely had the energy to hold hands, sashay or dance
But Leanna Wee was excited, being a Leanhaun Shee
To steal an artist’s energy was her reason to be.
Listen to the wind:
it roars, it murmurs,
righteously chants --
In gusty breaths, exhales, rants,
tempestuously pants.
In tyrants it wails --
tearing sleeves
and billowing sails.
It reddens, it pales
the ruddy faces of non compliant seamen
and blithering, pompous beached whales.
Perhaps this poem, too hastily sown
Should have read the rules
before breeze and blown
and not so far from the guidelines would
this pen have wont to roam. But in hindsight,
wind stirs in many out of main focus ways
blossoms beyond bordered-grid of a well centered garden
in orphaned airs, for some, yet, may glisten their sways --
I can't escape hearing the voices.
Even when, I myself, am utterly alone,
Even when the plea for peace,
is threadbare, shredded into tatters
of shrugged-off 'don't matters'.
The child I once was,
clamors for wonder, mischief, and make-believe.
The critic leans back, arms-crossed,
primed to tear down every armistice deal.
The dreamer scatters blueprints
made of butterfly wings,
stalling, stalling,
for happenstance to lead the way.
The doubter folds paper chain dolls,
strung together with paperclip chains.
The judge bangs the gavel on the table, commanding:
"Enough of the blithering!"
"This piecemeal deal must be done—Today!"
The mirror shows I myself, splintered into
a bookcase of shadows, on the shelves.
In the High Court of Inner Appeal -
They beg to differ, plead to acquiesce,
to become as one,
all-inclusive, but failing —
Then, another shadow enters the room.
A tiny puppy wagging its tail!
Mind is at peace.
Peace is here, if you please!
On days like today, I need you the most
When it seems that nothing goes right
You're the only one who can cheer me up
Sweet love, my whole day you light
With a fire, a passion, a burning desire
To hold you tight in my arms
To squeeze you, to kiss your waiting lips
In dreams, I'm overwhelmed by your charms
Forgive me, I tend to repeat myself a lot
Because I'm still blown away by this thing
That we're actually back together again
If you were here, you'd hear my heart sing
My darling, I feel like a blithering idiot
Running off and foaming at the mouth
See what you've done, my darling lover
Hope you're satisfied, my mind's gone south
So sorry for chastising you the way I did
I'm a willing participant as they say
The love of my life has come back to me
You are mine till my very last day
Blithering idiots abound
Where intellects don't make a sound
You must speak your mind
Or else you will find
There really is no common ground
Why can’t swing states count their votes?
They should have been preparing.
Instead, at their percentage points,
We anxiously sit staring.
Nevada’s six electoral votes
Are hanging there for grabbing
While every news reporter
Keeps on blithering and blabbing.
And what of Pennsylvania,
Also Georgia – almost finished!
My faith in our whole system
Has most surely been diminished.
South Carolina did its count
So why is North so lagging?
Are workers doing all they can?
A lot of tongues are wagging.
We’ve waited almost four long years –
Some hours more won’t kill us
But what I hope is when it’s done
The end result will thrill us.
Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous *********** portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.
Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating bloated blinks.
Bluebloods bloom black blackberry bloopers.
Bluetooth blizzards blame blurry blackboards.
Blithe blighted bladders blatantly block blades.
Blazing blasts bleed blooming blenders.
Fumbling fumes funerals fast.
Feuding fluid furniture flutters flaps.
Fighting flatulent flamingos flounder.
Floating flotillas flee flying flops.
Families foment future futile forms.
Freaky frozen French fries frighten frogs.
The sitting president of the USA (irony)
My dislike of Trump is deep
like that of any dictator driven by ambition and cruelty.
Then I read the twitter and find tittle-tattle
about him and the women in his household
written for a lot of dosh
by those who knew him and his family briefly.
The intelligentsia make fun of his use of words
which I presume make them sound learned.
For those who have not got it yet
he didn´t become president because he is
blithering idiot.
Trump´s base
is in the so-called “flyover states” who are annoyed
by Washington and the high fliers there.
His opponent in this race a Joe Biden is seen
as a Washington insider and have nothing to give
the American people, except a white smile
by an older man with a dentist grin.
Trump is all talk he has not started any new war
should he be elected again he might even be
a friend of Iran.
New Blithering is where I live,
Some laughs this burb does give,
You can buy plastic sheep here,
Do not know if they are dear,
In a store not far away,
Does a plastic sheep think anyway?
Could it talk in an ovine way?
Indeed, what would a plastic sheep think and say?
"How did we all end up here anyway?"
"I guess we just did, okay?"
I assume a plastic sheep can think and say,
"I hope you have an awesome day!"
Deep into that darkness whining
All my soul within me confining
Still is pining, still is pining
Once I sat engaged and hating
Still is pining, still is pining
I crave the blithering, beastly bragging
I see them clearly, although they try to remain hidden.
They laugh, and talk, flirting with each other.
Why can they not see I would like some alone time?
I never get that any more.
This new foreman is a great guy, but there is always music now
Or talking or a pretty girl, visiting, bringing muffins.
I liked the blonde one last week; she brought me an apple.
I stand here, silently, not making fun of them, but wanting to.
Seeing them clearly is my favorite thing to do.
She is not making headway; I know because of his stance.
He is a great guy, but should not play poker.
He has so many tells, I will be able to get an apple.
I stand and wait for the blithering and blathering to stop.
He is too polite. He needs to get rid of them faster.
Plus, he is my man. I do not share easily.
I wish I could step on her foot. I really do.
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