Long Mumblings Poems
Long Mumblings Poems. Below are the most popular long Mumblings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mumblings poems by poem length and keyword.
You are a thorn, borne deep in my heart
The prick that sticks me with each breath I take
A tether, whether I want to be bound to you or not
The flame I blame for burning holes in my soul
Droning chants are rants lingering in my mind
Rumblings and mumblings within my sad breast
The wrong kind of song written for those in love
My eyes sting when I try to sing the sweet lyrics
Broken vows spoken; words shattered like glass
The refrain of my pain keeps wounds from healing
Sorrowfully shaken and forsaken, I had to walk away
Your pretense was immense, the shame of your fall
Love was spoiled, foiled because of your weakness
Your reason for treason, based on a foundation of lies
The suppression of your confession has taken a toll
How cruel to fool the one who gave you her heart
Image of Black Sand & Sand provided by Pixabay.
The Hawaiianism of Ho'oponopono
A word, astir, in undulating waves surges and awash a clear open black shoreline of Hawaii nei, as it recedes in cycles dashing back to an instant, springing forth that word grasped first in mumblings made by a question from what comes later.
Hawaiiana has amongst the narrowed rudiments containing 12 alphabets; 7 consonants; H - K - L - M - N - P - W, plus 5 vowels; A - E - I - O - U. In its wake, Hawaiians have improvised their grammar by accommodating words to include more than one meaning, it is known as, "equivocal". A different way of supplementing their shortfall via letterings is by repeating words, whereto, two aspects emerge, firstly and the most prevalent variant of Hawaiiana repeats is, word pluralization, simply by adding the 's' at the end, sort of speak. Then secondly is word emphasization, or best to be known as, word empowerment.
"Ho'o" is an energetic prefix, in and of itself though insignificant in the Hawaiiana context as a stand-alone word, implying "to make or making". In this example, the base word, "pono", is an equivocal word. In no respective order, first; moral qualities, uprightness, and decency. Second; a clear understanding, completeness, and being thorough. Third; correctly fulfilled, proper procedures, and accuracy. Fourth; prosperity, welfare, benefit, and equity. There remain several meanings that essentially are extensions of the foregoing.
Nevertheless, when the base word is repeated, then "Ho'oponopono" basically means to, "make right a wrong". The Hebrews call it "Kaphar".
Back to mumbling and anticipation as a kid faced up to grownup legs. A worn grimace is yon about pause steadily. Quizzative looks around the room and tempts a peek past the formidable figure that blocks nearly the whole of him. The aged utter clarity, "E pule ho'oponopono kakou", (Let us pray for correcting our wrongdoing), afterward, an amended kid embraces the closing answer, "Ae, ho'omaika'i ia oe", (Yes, victory is yours). On the whims of a pendulum, Ho'oponopono wanes as a learnt man winds a clock up to speed.
2021 May 28
I felt our trouble brewing like a raging wind
and I, helpless to escape its stinging wrath.
In long dark corridors where he had sinned
I watched him crawling down an arcane path.
His murmurous mumblings I could not hear,
though echoed in a gravelly sonorous voice.
I knew instinctively there was much to fear.
In the surreal moment I had to make a choice.
When he woke on that cloudy thundering morn
I broached the problem that he could not defend.
His gorgeous green eyes were infused with scorn
and I cried knowing we'd reached the bitter end.
~ ~ ~
I heard he keeps pretending everything is just fine
but I know his life is still ruled by the raging winds.
His dazzling smile is a façade that does not shine
when he looks in a mirror, for he sees his own sins.
If my dream had not become so frightening and vivid
my vision may not have found a way to make me see
the Mr. Hyde he becomes when his temper turns livid.
His next innocent victim could have possibly been me.
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4/24/16 MR's More Than the Eye can See Contest
The first time a belt struck my bottom, I became haunted. Dad raised his voice. The ghost covered her bottom and pressed her back against my bedroom wall. Fear clung to my back. Dad didn't break in with a raised belt. By nine, I was too close to puberty with a sense of identity outside my parents. I could learn to speak up. Dad's threat of a spanking remained while my parents were married. The ghost persisted after I severed Dad's belt from me.
My parents divorced the same year Grandpa grew quiet. The memory of Dad's violence echoed under Grandpa's wheezes. Grandpa moved in when Dad was shoved out. I cut up Dad's belts. Mom abandoned Dad's junk on the curbside. The garbage collectors didn't get to trash Dad's stuff on Thursday morning. Grandpa was a welcome change in the former office. Mom and I didn't have to tiptoe past the door.
I was tasked with staying nearby in case Grandpa needed something. Mom told me to ignore his mumblings and to call her if he starts screaming. Grandpa's foster parents weren't nice. He had to be thankful for being fed, and their belt was his closest sibling. He remembered them the closer he got to death. He was peaceful when I was there. I like to believe it was because I was his favorite grandchild. But I couldn't ignore the ghost beside him. My ghost acknowledged him. He didn't do the same. The ghosts' dynamic refused to change. Grandpa and his ghost died. Our shared truth haunts me.
With her husband still in the Psychiatric Ward following his mental breakdown, she felt the need to go in for a few hard drinks.
With the trunk of his car still full of his belongings thrown out of the house
by his wife, he really had no better place to go.
Her reflection in the mirror behind the bar confirmed the feeling that she had hit rock bottom.
Having not frequented a bar in the twenty years since his son was born,
he wasn’t sure what drink to order.
She didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that travelled down her cheek and dropped onto the top of the bar.
He wasn’t aware that his mumblings were audible to the woman
sitting down two stools away.
“You’ve got that right.”
“I’m sorry … what?”
“You said, ‘Life sucks’, and I agree.”
“Huh – yeah, it sure does.”
The vacant stool between them provided enough buffer to freely dump their souls to a perfect stranger without feeling too imposed upon. Then, finally, he occupied that stool so they could clink together their glasses in a toast to an unfair life.
She climbed out of bed, looked at the hotel clock which displayed the wrong time, and headed towards the shower.
He looked under the covers to confirm that the clothes scattered
around the room were his.
She got dressed without saying a word, looked at him with a sad smile and walked out of the hotel room in a neighborhood she was not familiar with.
He checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls from his wife …
there were none.