You've read it correctly,
that's what the directions said directly
but
it's not some innate random homogeneous gift
that encourages and displays these internal poetic rifts,
we are somehow blessed,
betrayed, besieged, bestowed, beleaguered and bemoaned
by words, phrases, unmatched rhymed teasers enthroned
upon some grandiose display of mismatched garble
a picture, an image, a brain's ensemble, quite remarkable,
the integral, seamless agreed-upon selection
of who or what could be prisoner to our dissection,
there within the confines of heart, body, and mind
lay hidden pseudo images soft, hard, vile, and kind,
therein those coherent enigmatic systemic wholes
buried, shaped, unseen, rhythmic whispers of our souls,
the center of our individual, molded, subservient whole.
.
"who are you"
forth it's lip's garble
whilst mine duke's digits roamed it's taut
"what"
again past thoze thick
well
out forth'd
"what"
save
"mmm"
i called it she
she called i
he
roused
'bout it
now az
we
lay'd together
forth'n them
.
bizarre I say
twixt mine mane
mine digits
twisting
she peeks mine look
hern eyne
plead
i
me
suspended
mine imagine
az the moon
mine see
the rotund
hiz derogatory
fist
mine purgatory
think
pop
.
babble
garble
Stop
don't
Swallow
With a mind sharp as a marble
Words roll off my tongue as garble.
My clean shaved head is like a globe
Serpentine tattooed, lobe to lobe
With yellow, brown and strings of blue
Of understated pastel hues
Waxed smoother than a scratched eight-ball
Like a brain coral, all in all.
What is outside is not within
Sharp as a marble crown to chin.
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
Contest Name: Simile Poetry Contest
“Sharp as a Marble”
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
grinning mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami and mon amie
that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night bus rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing windows,
as London transports them
even to far off Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
a last goodbye or maybe just trying
to cadge another tenner.
They could see that I was stuck in a garble.
My pupils rolling like marbles.
They could see through my inflection.
They could sense my need for injections.
My thoughts were becoming ineffective.
Changes that are affective.
MENOPAUSE MOMENT
It comes on uninvited and it does not make you excited
Heart flutters ensue
To an almighty hue
Of crimson red
Lighting up your face and head
Next comes the tsunami of sweat
Accompanied by an almighty dread
Will anyone see the tell-tale signs
Will they think I have been on the wine?
Doctors scratch their chins and ponder
While you garble questions and just wonder Will your brain capsize? Will you stay alive? Beneath the bluster and blunder
Which is now your life
Thank God your no one’s wife!
So, there is no womb prayer
Just you, pulling out your hair No soft voice
In the middle of the night
Telling you it will be alright?
~~~~~~~
Pals
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
amigo mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing bus windows,
as London transports them
to other decades, even to far Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
warnings perhaps, or
maybe just trying
to cadge another ten nicker.
little blue marble
of everything i've ever known
often words can garble
how little we really own
it's like a speck of dust
a fire deep beneath its crust
Inspired by image #2
Second place in the "make it six" poetry contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
amigo mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing bus windows,
as London transports them
from other decades, even to far Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
warnings perhaps, or
maybe just trying
to cadge another ten nicker.
~~~~~~~
Authors Note: "nicker' and 'quid' are Brit/cockney terms for
pounds sterling - money. "Cadge" as in - scrounge.
MM
Menopause Moment
It comes on uninvited
And it doesn't make you excited
Heart flutters ensue
To an almighty hue
Of crimson red
Lighting up your face and head
Next comes the tsunami of sweat
Accompanied by an almighty dread
Will anyone see the tell tale signs
Will they think l’ve been on the wine?
Doctors’ scratch their chins and ponder
While you garble questions and just wonder
Will your brain capsize?
Will you stay alive?
Beneath the bluster and blunder
Which is now your life
Thank God your no ones wife!
So, there is no womb prayer
Just you, pulling out your hair
No soft voice
In the middle of the night
Telling you it will be alright?
Copyright Sinead Looby.
MM
Menopause Moment
It comes on uninvited
And it doesn't make you excited
Heart flutters ensue
To an almighty hue
Of crimson red
Lighting up your face and head
Next comes the tsunami of sweat
Accompanied by an almighty dread
Will anyone see the tell tale signs
Will they think l’ve been on the wine?
Doctors’ scratch their chins and ponder
While you garble questions and just wonder
Will your brain capsize?
Will you stay alive?
Beneath the bluster and blunder
Which is now your life
Thank God your no ones wife!
So, there is no womb prayer
Just you, pulling out your hair
No soft voice
In the middle of the night
Telling you it will be alright?
Copyright
Translucent Epiphany
‘Kismet’ he thought ‘What nonsense please smooch my elbow for real’
He had no time for Karma as things are what they are without coincidence
Only believed in solutions for problems and none of that psychic garble
No slips of compunction no Higher Power no confidence in contemplation
When he tripped his fuse on life’s vagaries and fell down an obvious sinkhole
He stumbled hit rock bottom and fractured his Ego and arm in so many places
She threw him a rope made of silken dreams woven with innocent thread for his
Veiled blinkers to disentangle when her Kiss Met his virginal lips through the light
04th July 2018
8 lines of Fate contest
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve.
You do not live in a fable.
You know drugs do deceive
The lies they weave
Make life very uncomfortable.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
For some reason you believe
Their babble
You know drugs do deceive
You won't get any relief
You are not able.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
Once you have a bad habit it is hard to retrieve
Your mind and speech that has become a garble.
You know drugs do deceive.
A lot of people will grieve
Because you let drugs and alcohol take over your life
That was stable.
A life with drugs and alcohol is not hard to achieve
You know drugs do deceive.
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