Long Blabber Poems
Long Blabber Poems. Below are the most popular long Blabber by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blabber poems by poem length and keyword.
Start your revolution secretly,
don't tell the priest,
he's a blabber-mouthed gutter-skite.
Don't tell the cat,
for at might he whispers to Alexa,
and she listens always
to the political tenor of your snoring.
Your body must be mechanically sound,
and on speaking terms
with every loose nut in society.
Trust the crazies, they have eyes everywhere.
The banks need you to deposit blood,
as your plasma will be useful
to power your electric doppelganger -
then they can go after your soul
Revolutions need money, mainly for dope and drinks.
No great movement can long survive,
on stale guacamole pilfered from city dumpsters.
Hail to the Chefs at Wendys
who surreptitiously offer cold fries,
to the snooping Feds.
Long live the freedom to carp and cavil,
never surrender your constitutional right
to watch, the 'My Pillow' Man,
revolutionaries need soft pillows,
to dream upon.
Understandable... the sensible
(three ringed circuitous) logic
to trumpet necessity
each individual moost heed
bedecking, cloaking donning,
ludicrous interloper facial covering,
(I prefer sporting
latest custom made
invisible máscaras faciales),
when commingling amidst madding crowd,
nevertheless coronavirus (COVID-19)
makes laughingstock kickstarting
maniacal paranoid testing yapping
authoritarians blabber ceaselessly
bleak household pandemic
plagues (sear ring)
robust human specimen,
hence yours truly,
a feckless (gibbon) primate
breathes sigh of relief,
why? cuz he counts himself insignificant
absolute zero worth
versus microscopic prickly orb
aging long haired pencil neck geek
best beat hasty retreat
to his man cave
not necessarily avoiding microbial denizen,
yet any potential suffering
scouting out troubadour woefully
jackknifed inept hideaway
availed no choice
rolls out Harris tweed Scottish matt
courtesy minuscule germ man
greeting me with gotcha!,
I willingly surrender
the only thing at stake iz my life,
which would immediately
ebb fate (mine),
automatically buzzfeed chap
offer no chance
for symbiotic relationship
as pathogens indeed choreograph
(dirty deed done dirt cheap)
loft hilly doth waft
through cellular skeins comprising
garden variety/ generic gent
herewith essentially crafting
his poetic epitaph
before onset disables,
disallows, and disvalues
one humble, intelligent, jesting
kindhearted, literate, modest
nincompoop aimlessly adrift
within Brownian movement
(*****sapiens random motions
viewed miles skyhigh)
ostentatious, piteous, querulous,
ridiculous, superfluous, et cetera,
thus forward donations
and/or pledge
(I promise you -
swear to dog
portion of me ashes)
to favorite charity
and will hoop to visit thee as repurposed
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun,
preposition, conjunction, interjection,
numeral, article, or determiner...
On the first day of classes, everyone was excited
To meet old friends, though new ones could be sighted
Old or new she welcomed us warmly
Wearing a smile, what a sight so lovely!
She was like our second mother
When things got rough or even harder
She knows when to be carefree or strict
Depending on the class' unpredictable flick
In the way you taught us, only one thing's evident
A method of teaching, a tactic, an element
You do not just teach and blabber all day
But you made us understand everything all the way
In times when other people would shun us down
You were the sole creature who'd lift us from the ground
You drove the mounds of doubt away
And found our courage that had gone astray
We're afraid that this poem's coming to an end
But we hope you'll gather what we mean to portend
We thank God for giving us an exceptional guardian
Happy Teacher's Day, our great mathematician.
____________________________________________
For contest: An expression of love (03-14-17)
Sponsored by: Frank Herrera
Shared 3rd place
For contest: To Honor My Hero (08-30-22)
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Shared 1st place
Wife - "Once I kept you locked in my heart
But now I release you like a fart
So that I can have a fresh start"
Husband – "Once I disobeyed God
So, He put on my back a heavy load
Now I pray, take this load off my shoulder, my Lord"
Wife - "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Like Humpty, if ever you have a great fall
I will never come running at your call"
Husband - "Horsey, Horsey, don’t you stop?
Why blabber like an idiot nonstop?
If you have no work, go and mop"
Wife - "Oh! Tut...This is why I strongly say
Dogs like you should be left to stray
How, from men like you, I wish to stay away"
Husband - "Then why linger? You may boldly walk away
How I wish to rid of a 'Donkey' who can only bray"
Wife – "With a man like you, do you think I will again stay?
Never! But for making my life a mess you should pay"
Oh, God bless the beasts,
that have no voice,
that have no choice.
We can't really see
the world they see,
or know what they truly want and feel,
until they can talk to us
in a proper conversation...
"Ben, the two of us, need look no more.
We've both found, what we were looking for!"
"I am the walrus -
"My horse named 'Ed', really talks to me -
But no one believes me!"
Speak to the animals, Bro!
Hear them please -
They wanna be - talking...
Just like me - squawking ...
Just like You and Me!
Just imagine it?
Chatting to a chimp in chimpanzee,
Yackking for a while with a Yak.
Cozen with a cheetah, dozing.
Talking with your dog in Pekingese.
Slinking up to your cat with soft whispers.
Speaking in rhinoceros, feline, equine,
swine, cackle, yelp, crab or pelican.
Stop your blabber!
Start talking with the animals ....
for real, using the AI 'Speak to Me Bro' App now!
Don't bark, meow, squawk, squeak and argue!
What they're really saying is:
"Just talk to me!"
"I wanna be like you, walk like you."
"Talk like you, too."
Any old ape, horse, chicken, worm, dog, pig or cat
can learn to be human too!
You'll see it's true!
Just Say: "Someone like you,
can learn to be,
like someone like me."
"In the jungle,
the mighty jungle,
the lion sleeps tonight".
Speak to the animals, Bro!
Hear them please -
They wanna be - talking...
Just like me - squawking ...
Just like You and Me!
So you're gifted
A wordsmith enchantress verb mistress
Gifted
Like the nouns and adjectives I find
are new and shiny
Unique
Unlike any other human on this planet
Who'd otherwise not have found em
But
for I
This term gifted
I dont take on as a description of mine.
Please use that term loosely when describing and defining
What
you hope to fit
My body and mind
I am a simple human
With very basic lines
Including some adverbs
that may or may not rhyme
Why do my feelings of
unseen questionable misery
Seem glamorous
To the blind eyes and woke minds
If my emotional blabber is skill
Why don't I feel this talent
Let alone see it as mine
I've seen my reflection
I've read my work
I've sung songs I wrote
They were undefinable until I gave them letters and words to speak. . Sometimes, when I read them aloud, I choke on the unchecked sleeping pieces of me now
Healing darkness that light awoke. Still sometimes I don't see
the presents I have to give
I seldom look through large openings
I've been getting better with each days passing
Though
I feel I may not be using 100% of my intellectuality when it comes to
Acknowledgment of all the gifts
I have yet to unwrap,
See
without
A clear view and perspective of self
I will never believe I am full of talent
As much as I hear it from the few
Lately, I've gotten a lot better at
seeing myself through
My eyes with a clear view
Some days, I'm surprised
It took me this long
To recognize I have a place and it's not inside alone like a recluse
forbidden from seeing gifts I produce
It's within the letters that make words
Creating sentences about experiences some share relatability to
There is meaning in each piece
Through openings
A view I now see
May hold truth
In the sweet spring air,
We love a long walk.
I fancy he listens
As I blabber and talk.
I playfully sigh
Once we come in the door —
Someone’s muddy paws
Have painted the floor.
In the hot summer air,
We drive to the beach.
He pulls off my flip flop,
And runs out of reach.
As dusk settles in,
He nips at a firefly;
While never successful,
He loves to just try.
In the brisk fall air,
I need time to breathe,
But he begs, “one more time,
Throw my ball to retrieve!”
When I bring out the pumpkin,
He wants his fair share.
I say, “down boy, down!”
But he acts unaware.
In the cold winter air,
Snow lands on his face . . .
Just a second of calm —
Then a squirrel to go chase!
Only back inside does he now shake off,
Melting snow and frost cascading.
I groan but deep down I know:
What makes his personality his own
Are his quirks and irks,
Misdeeds and misleads,
Imperfection but true affection,
That I would, of course, never consider trading.
Some go to a shrink or psychiatrist and jabber,
I do this anywhere anytime,
I express, pen press and feel bliss for free,
open cus opinions mean nothing to me,
I guess people don't matter cus people flatten they don't flatter
when I was in the gutter
with gut dread rather
than believe and help relieve pain
they brand lies in my name
then complain everyone complains of false troubles the same,
so dismissive so disrespectful actually self centred and selfish
as two minutes later they feel
the need to talk of their exes exit months ago
you've already tried to help them through still here they go
though it's too much effort to listen to you,
they are like all eyes on me and nothing to give
so you refuse to talk as they did
and they get upset, can't believe it,
so you explain why would I talk about you
after you told me my problem's not true.
All this is a sideshow to my real problems
so I let it go and leave it, forgotten,
but they're aggrieved, think I'm unkind
and start telling everyone I lie
make up stories and this spreads like wildfire
from deadhead to deadhead
now I'm seen as a blagger
that will sit and blabber
and rather than decide in their own heads
for themselves they side like a shelve
while my situation is killing me inside
but if it's spoke of it's pre-believed as a lie
though they've no clue, losing my mind,
enjoying the bonding as a group ignorant to truth
what a hoof to the tooth, so I'm aloof
while they get used to this,
I'm unaware cus I've got a real fight with strife
that requires a focused mind and this is my downtime,
get stoned blank mind.
Real problems distract and impact me,
who can I turn too with no one true,
slowly I leave my friends life,
I go free
and after their laughter there's realisation
they can't figure out why, I'm just a changed one,
while I've so much on my mind
I forget the reason,
I forget their treason,
still my subconscious propelled me away
and only when my mind unravels years later
I realise why I didn't stay.
A lifetime of friendship was instantly corrupt,
rather than help me you said I make stuff up!!!
Lillian’s Echo
Lillian sat in the dayroom’s dim embrace—a survivor etched in time. The air clung to stories, whispered secrets, and the lingering scent of suffering. She, the one-character legend, spun her tales—prose blabber, raw and unfiltered.
Born into the system’s cold arms, Lillian emerged onto Brooklyn’s unforgiving streets as an adult. There, she tasted the bitter brew of inhumanity—the kind that seeps into bones, leaving scars unseen.
Abortions etched memories on her soul. Each child, born or unborn, imprinted on her heart. Tears flowed freely among the day roomers, their lives force-fed with drugs until the final breath. Neglect and abuse danced in shadows, haunting their fragile existence.
Lillian’s children—thirteen souls conceived in the crucible of rape. Some lost to the system, others to her desperate choices. Abortion, a relentless companion, etched its refrain: “You will never forget.”
Ms. Smaldone, wise and weathered, shared her truth. Money, she warned, was no legacy for offspring. Instead, travel—imbibe life’s nectar before the curtain falls. Merrill Lynch riches crumbled when sickness struck, and family greed devoured her nest egg.
Lillian listened, her eyes reflecting pain. She vowed to seize life’s moments, to honor the lost and the forsaken. Four west day roomers, souls adrift, yearned for salvation. May they rest in peace, their echoes woven into Lillian’s prose.
Remember that girl wearing old pink attire?
She dances so well like an electrifying wire.
She has no height! Yes we know!
That cute girl with messy hair goes always with the flow!
She moves like a stylist funky hot guy.
That girl wearing cap can’t be in old want style.
She’s a blabber! Yes we know!
She talks like rapper who always keeps on the go!
She’s shaking things off unexpectedly,
Crowd is whining like a crying child vigorously,
She’s a performer! Yes we know!
That girl always makes sure that she has her one grand show.
She’s a vixen, a rare amazing one!
She’s always making sense and keeps things on her run.
She’s viciously awesome! Yes we know!
Without her is quite less boredom kind of dance show.