Long Gabbing Poems
Long Gabbing Poems. Below are the most popular long Gabbing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gabbing poems by poem length and keyword.
The duet of a garden's music in June,
afloat with all the season's notes can bring...
The milder one is where chant of orioles
join honeyed air's refrain
as dragonflies flip a spin to answer
the humming pampas on the lawn.
And how the mutter of a pond
swishes around Grandma's flower beds
where laughter wisps and sneakers squeak--
Then, the other one-- a more raucous tremolo;
loud chuckles of youngsters pitching
through hollers beneath white clouds
yelling away for a doughnut fete,
paired with alto voices of neighbors gabbing.
But no matter-- this garden is our magical place
to quench a thrill from romps
far beyond skyscape's tapestry
when hours wheeze by
into this rhapsodic spring - duet...
a cycle's buoyant grace pulsing on and on.
Double Exposure Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
5/21/2020
She'd been been beaten, pushed around and abandoned like trash
without a collar around her neck she was a dog with no name
Dogtrotting slowly behind the back street she licked at her rash
until a sweet woman appeared, looking ill and riddled with pain;
two birds of one feather
tethered * together
trumping bad weather
Out of the cold she was brought and given a morsel to eat
she bathed her slowly and gave her, her very own name
The fire was hot and the hearth was real warm at her feet
she sang her a song that made her forget all the pain.
gift of recovery
given for free
gabbing with glee
She barked with joy and her eyes shone like diamonds at night
"Daisy" was finally home and with a master as kind as can be
She now had a collar and someone who treated her right,
never again was she hurt she was happy and finally carefree.
What is that blaring in our ears,
is it the brain cutting loose
and spinning around our heads?
Brain figures and un-figures
looking through holes in its circuits,
what computes is painted on blank walls,
what just blurts
is spoken with a deeply voiced wisdom.
Look, the sounds it makes are visible
from the moon,
can be heard by dreaming camels
on the far side of nowhere.
It is running around bleating
getting lost in its own delusions.
Don’t feed it,
do not own it - it’s not you;
at best it’s a headless chicken
at worst it’s a chicken wearing your head.
Tell the brain it’s got to take a break
from its clatter chatter.
Ignore the gabbing,
look another way,
be filled with a sage silence
or find something real to say.
Watch the brain dance itself
into a dazed dizzy exhaustion,
watch it twirl
within its babel babble hell;
kill it gently
with an aware,
detached,
Mona Lisa smile.
It's was snowing like crazy
my woman and I were alone
somebody rung our number
calling me on the phone
my woman answered the call
started that Hello trip
gabbing bout the
weather
said it was so nice
for she and I to be together
giggled and cackled some more
I picked up the paper off the floor
what is this
I began to read
ah nah I said can it be
invoices to some sexy things
and there was a bag full
of the sexy things
a cocky smile
adorn my face
while she talked I cleaned up the place
left the room stayed a while
smoked a cigar you know my style
came back in
she was in the ladies room
I sat back down
doing what I had been doing
looked round that bag was gone
saw it last when she was
on the phone
door opened up
Damn! who came out
You like that
you like that
I do, I do, Ido
lick it up
it's right now
lick it up
only you know how
Lick it up
it's the right thing to do
lick it up
cause you know I love you
Here's some things that really irk me
They must irk some of you guys too
Loaded baskets in those Express Lanes
My face turns a scarlet hue
Imagine the gall of some irksome drivers
Doing fifty in a fifty mile zone
What is it with these bunch of yahoos?
Probably gabbing on their phones!
When you order a cup of hot java
At your favourite coffee shop
And it turns out to be luke warm at best
You wanna give the server a pop!
Another one of my little pet peeves
Pill bottles that are made seniors proof
You get a hernia trying to open these things
The inventor was on some kind of juice!
Playing along with the clues on Jeopardy
Interrupted by some breaking news
Unless the world is actually coming to an end
It can wait till the end of the clues!
Bugs me when some guy in a big fancy car
Takes up more than one parking space
These a-holes need to be straightened out
Love a word with them face to face!
Ahhh! It sure feel a whole lot better now
Once I got these things off my chest
Life is too short to let these things bug you
They're minor annoyances at best!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Was he in the wrong place at the right time?
Slipping, sliding, dying
to live;
just a kid.
Mom and Grandma busy,
gabbing, too far
away.
Was he in the right place,
a parental replacement
for such a time as this?
A little boy with prayers said
over him
while he traveled life’s rough roads;
even his carriage ride was bumpy.
After transferring hands a couple times,
the little boy found himself in Germany,
a celebration,
now his feet are slipping and sliding,
he can’t get a hold -
the pond, his death pondering.
An old man reaches in and snatches out
this little kid.
Just as soon as the boy is saved,
the angel disappears.
That boy grows up
and marries me.
5/23/2022
I take a sip of pinkish liquid – White Zin.
Will I be able to drive home now?
The goblet seems much more fun than it should be.
I am horrified by her fullness. It shocks me. Too much liquor!
My brain screams at the young waiter, who is probably new,
Does he think he is helping out an old lady without friends?
Without a home? A crone who lives under a bridge on a storm grate?
The bar and grille’s loud music no longer bothers me.
One sip of White Zin wiped out my irritation station.
Spiders who live in my spinal column scurry away for
An evening of “who cares?” We are unconcerned.
My back cord is relaxing into a pudding pop of herself.
For the first second I realize the music is Country Western
and I am not cringing. I reach for the glass goblet. The
White Zin sloshes into my mouth, with a happy war cry.
I know my mouth is now in her “ugly-fat-protruding mode”
I do not often take this mouth out in public,
But the white zin has convinced me I do not care.
I do not know these people, nor do I want to know them.
A gaggle of gabbing women two tables down are laughing now.
Someone has recently left this earth-plane. They are
celebrating tonight to honor her memory. By the time
my friend arrives, I have used up all three of the dinky
napkins, writing words willy, nilly and yon.
None make sense.
Care I?
No.
We have a lovely time, out-cackling and out-laughing
the grieving table, my friend and I. She has a liquor drink
too so she is insanely silly.
Some old geezer wanders over and says he is sitting down.
We hold firm and he falls off the seat onto the floor.
Oops. Maybe I was the one who held firm.
We promptly leave. Hug goodbye. No kissing.
I let her pull out first. She can barely see. She has
hit lots of cars. I wait for a bit.
White Zin and I are not the friends we once were.
I throw up promptly when I arrive home.
Second or third reminder to me that I should not drink alcohol.
Many are gabbing, like magpies on steroids.
As if we are getting away with something.
Our big chance to speak to adults, and we are taking it.
Teachers at a faculty meeting.
I distance myself in proximity and mindset.
This is a weekly meeting. I can jump
onboard next week as well as today, and catch up quickly.
Ready for my playtime to begin, not interested in their gabs.
It is usually some cute antidote I have already heard. I do not
teach reading or math; my job is to look for
the good in everyone. I can hold onto that if I do not
listen to the gabbing. I look for
the good in teachers too, after all.
These meetings are heavily saturated with testing,
attendance, reading, and math.
I teach none of these things. I am not responsible for
getting them here, and I detest all
of this incessant testing. Doubting the validity in the first
place, it makes not a whole lot of sense to me.
Snatches of conversations float past me. I look around.
Same players. Same conversations. I am serious, truly.
The same talkers, the same listeners. I move around from
table to table each Wednesday, to get different perspectives.
Most do not. I sit in the corner today, alone,
marveling at the dull sameness of the gabbing, and the conversations.
The lone wolf, howling silently, with her pen teeth.
Silence is Golden
In a laboratory in a far away place called
Lahore
Was a mad scientist, who experimented
Offshore
He fiddled and fuddles deep inside his lab
Making clones of his glorious self
Thinking they mighty fine lads
He cloned twenty or thirty or a hundred and more
All chattering and gabbing, their master they adore
Oh yes, he’s the mad scientist from Lahore
He has many accolades for he had many votes
He cloned so many, democracy was a joke
But the governor caught on
And saw through the clouds
Something was evil under the shroud
Banished he was to the prison of deception
Hopefully he will clone no more fake conceptions
A train door closes packed with passengers.
Destinations being most different than others.
Typical light touches, embarrassing rubbing,
Lastly, the ever so bothersome nudging.
Unfinished conversations, from platform
Carries on within the overcrowded train.
Yapping and gabbing, defined as gossiping,
Amidst disgruntled passengers within-earshot.
Young teen of a nimble mind, lights a cigarette,
To a host of an onslaught accord that repeats,
All trains are non-smoking so put it out you creep!
An infant goes from a whispering innocent alto coo,
To an uncontrollable, unstoppable, sopranos' scream,
Unheedful to weariful pleads of failing-to-comfort bass.
A newspaper that was fully read, is now being
Reread from its beginning, cites boredom
From too long of a wait, passing time fruitlessly.
An out-of-town couple, ask an old guy to take
Their picture, but to everybody's surprise, he
Took the camera and slammed it to the train
Floor, whereto, it broke into unrepairable pieces,
"Hi-ya!" was heard, a karate chop is all was needed,
So down for the count, the old pus was out,
Camera pieces and out-of-town couple all gone,
And gossips continue on, that now includes
The old pus and out-of-town couple.
The engine is heard and a forward thrust is felt,
At last, they are about to go on...until suddenly...
They jerk to a stop...then a voice is intensely heard,
..."We at Metro apologize for this undue delay,
For this train is now inoperable, so please disembark
And take all you have with you, as this train will
Now head to the shop from this station.
Bear in mind that another train has been dispatched,
Whereto, it will take you to your final destinations."
"We at Metro, would like you all to have a pleasant day!"
This all took for a moment of time, to record in the annals
Of the written memory that is historically held in the
Everlasting void belonging to the sanctity of a mere...
~~ second.
Date: 06/07/2019