Lisps Poems | Examples

Young Man In Battle

A threadbare sigh relentlessly lisps
    while he begs with twilight 
    for inner calm;
    Dear life...he is just a  young man, 
     wobbly  feet wanting to run away
     from unknown ground which reeks of 
     territorial conquest, of violence inhumane
     as spitting bang of bullets explodes:

Just like one nameless label
 of life's bloody route ,
    he turns into a fetal shape on the road
    leading to nowhere; not even hell--
    till grunts of combat lamentations
    echo upon the breeze;
    crushed grains hurling a lone figure
    half alive, half lifeless 
    with rosary beads on his neck... 
    amidst purgatory of eve.

'bout the inch uv learn

.

                 "'twuz this close"

                       certainly
                 y'all indulgerz uv
                      mine write
              with telepathy knowz
                  such thuh close

             'twuz that tingly feel'n
              whence literary lisps
                       out mine
                          face

                      my almost 
                     kissed them
               the pink thick strips
                    'buv her chin
           whilst her see's emeralds
                        glister'd
                         
                     (((CRACK)))
                      her daddy's
                        bullwhip

                    clop clop clop 
                   my best friend'z
                         canter
               galloping mine safely
                       from wrath

Toy Phonograph

Tiny phonograph with a small turntable,
Her child toy that lights up her eyes.
As it spins and turns with its now blurred label., 
It plays the songs in Mother Goose guise.

She becomes mesmerized, unable to leave.
Her sight is fixed on the round plate.
Has it become magic? What can she believe?
Quiet time's gift is parent's placate.

One day it happens! Rising up from the floor, 
Songbird machine, made to enthrall,
Lisps forth a sad song as it floats out the door.
Hushing her thoughts, she looks at the wall

Missing You

I miss you

 

I miss your eyes looking into mine; you see my imperfections and love me anyway

 

I miss the fire you set to my soul when you kiss my lisps

 

I miss your touch

 

I miss your smile

 

I miss the aroma of you next to me

  

Without you, life has no real meaning,

 

Life is incomplete without you.

 

You are my reason, my season and my lifetime

 

I miss you

 

You are my blooming flower, my rising sun, my star in the darkest night

 

I miss you.

 

You are my happily ever after.

News and Views

cataract both eyes, grandpa could not read news,
grand daughter six, offered to read him the Times,
she not only read but also gave her views,
her lisps of names and events were so sublime,
end of her reading, grandpa gave her a kiss,
”I never knew the world was as good as this!”

2nd placement
Written 13/11/2021
Line Gauthier sponsored
Bite Size poems no 26 poetry contest
6 lines, 11 syllables each line

Sanctuary of Womb

In open playing fields on muddy ground,
little fight amongst us children abound.

Petty things would spark arguments to fight,
sans reason so hard to say who was right.

Friends suddenly stop talking, walk away,
forget all and play together next day.

Sad with torrential tears some may hurry,
to doting mums to seek sanctuary.

A loving hug, a kiss would quickly cure,
thrown with some loving lisps to just ensure.

Years roll by and age races past our mind,
warmth of her love is never left behind.

Decades since those quarrels on playing field,
even now in trouble I seek her shield.

Wisest of men, bravest in history,
in hard times have sought mum’s sanctuary!

At age sixty at life’s eddy current,
still seek wise light of my only parent!

2nd placement
‘Sanctuary‘ Couplet poetry contest
Sponsor Silent one
Written 16/08/2020

Coyness

Coyness
Sheep for pets, I wimp amidst a modest plain of bushy regrets whose leaves of 
                         character abandon its tenuous grasp of reality upon that being 
                                                   grounds of despair, and of what little morale 
                         of my reputation framed my girth, the grains wherein, had my persona lisps, though my internal meekness raked up in a pile just shy of hope.

2020 February 28

Twist Again

Lucy lisps, Lucy lisps
Lucy's tongue is in a twist
Saucy Susie sang a song
Silly Susie sang it wrong
Slinky slimy slippery snakes
Hisses kisses to their mates
Stoats stay stoic on the sand
While Willy Wagtail forms a band
Bandicoots break into a simple song
Cos Saucy Susie sang all wrong
Still standing silently in shifting sand
Sarcastic Willy said "Ain't this grand
Someone here sure is silly 
And I will tell you something it's not this Willy"
Ding, Dang Dong and Bong, Bam Bing
The band was good, who would sing?
Lucy lisps, Lucy lisps
Said "I'll give it a go, can you play Let's Twist"

PS
So to add to this Lucy lisps The Twist
Then they all recalled
They did it all without a drummer
Last summer


Compliments of Chubby Checker

Baby Talk

The way I see it 
the world’s gone wrong
I have had this notion 
Since the day I was born!

I move about 
on my fours
And mum has to 
do all my chores! 
From where I crawl
 It is my view
The world is wrong, 
I can see it all!

Dad’s always busy 
But mum is home
We cuddle cozy, 
after bath and foam!
Baby talk I talk to her
In signs, shrieks and lisps
She’ll nod and answer
Carrying me on her hips

The cat comes to play
Every morning with me
I ask him to stay
As he rubs across my knee!
I have lots of lovely toys
All on the floor
Spoilt I am for choice
Want more and more

Life is so beautiful
All sweet and nice
Calm and peaceful
If one really tries! 
All the grown up Men
look so sad
They can’t have fun 
Must be so bad!

I hear them shout
Often in fight
I have no doubt
They are not right
They are working late
They are never home,
They are in a state
When finally home!

Why can’t they all
Stay home like I do
Play till night fall
And do what I do?


‘Your Best New poem’Contest

Sublimely Subliminal

Birds cackle overhead
in the grey mews
as wind lisps around
the dead children
held in the arms of
ancient wisened trees
Whispers jump from raindrops
while my eyes flirt with imagination
© 41 minutes ago

How To Throw Yourself In the Garbage

Hobbies are for losers, and habits are hobbies for the poor,
But hopping into heaping piles of rubbish is haute couture.

What’s in, ladies and gentlemen, is what we want thrown out,
But not to own it but instead to be it is what it’s all about.

I doubt the likes of the uncultured swine who read are sure to know,
How to throw yourself in the garbage so here’s a do it yourself below.

First we listen to the radio, turn up that Taylor Swift,
And sing along as if, like her, you think you have a gift.

Then we watch the television to watch the newest episode of the View,
And listen to the hens upchuck their clucks on vomit’s gurgled cue.

Next we watch the nightly news with Lester the Mind Molester,
Whose stroke-like Fester face spits lisps like pussies named Sylvester.

So then we reflect on what we’ve seen and heard in the pot that’s hardly stirred,
And realize that what we prefer is to be free from the jaded herd.

Yet, the only way out is through the trash,
Since we need the herd to earn the cash,
To pay for before we’re buried or ash,
So just jump in the dump with a sassy splash.

With Wide Ears

Listen to the wind.....

   as she sings in her quiet lisps,

   and sighs the past and gusts

   with earnest need;


Listen to the tenets of the seasons 

   with their lovelies and tempests ----

   and torrents and great rains 

   become blizzards,

   then hushed and bequeathed sings the morrow;

   and buds the leaf and the harvests

   shall feed all in need


Listen to the tenuous hum and drum of mortal bars

   crying out 'neath thy starry night....

   when the world is weary in the City of Lights;

   and the  last dog has barked before bed.....

   and the crickets with Godspeed ascend their chatter

   in the last tumult of the day,

   (Listen.....)

In Drips Revelation

I

Sweat hours are eternities in your smile a spirit is born clear to the clothed heart cold 
wind coughs through the window slathered white poetry adorns the stars with night 
cancer is a promise exploding black and white stones in a marble phrase 

She is ending…

Space lost in her voice…

Images clog blooming star showers 
Signals from numbers
Broken brittle paper 
Ripped in burnt screams
Messiahs and demons crying
Melodies blank with psalms

II

The first vision is the leader
He guides with thin fingers
Bony eyes form a procession
Behind his anointed lies

III

No phone rings silence is the weeping valley ever broken from shadows falling in rocks 
of prophecy bowls of soup painting praying white hands bearded in broken hope
modern sexy latex phrases pulled debt over our hands wearing lisps of rage 

In 
Drips
Revelation

lyrics spit milky hues
upon a dream sunflow
-ers and winter queens lilt
dragging their for
-tunes in a nocturnal waltz…

Blight

Beneath the arc of crumbling dusk,
Lisps down the petals of the rose
To crimson-kiss the fountain bowls
Where the champagne faucet flows.
The guests in boarding houses
Felt the smoulder of their bones
Balding walls restricting transit
Behind the mortar work and stones.
And we cried and smiled and cheered
When the anaesthetic rushed,
As the opiate of media
Camouflaged the broke and crushed.
Oh, tomorrow they are married,
And the next day we will wake,
To our debts and thoughts of dying
In a world we didn’t make.
Yet today in celebration
We salute the future King,
Feed us pomp and circumstance,
We’ll bow and kiss your ring.

Scrolls To Venus

December susurrations mingle 
in this lissome isthmus

and our wispy Vespers,
these suspired planets

gossip along misty vistas
of silvery insinuations 
and hushed hints. 

The fractured lisps 
of elusive revelations
curl in the breeze, 

a gypsy veil 

between shivering lips
in the cusp 
of our trysting breaths.

Ascending daystars converse
in this lexis of secrets
and draw us a scroll to Venus
with each breathless ellipsis 
between whispers.

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