Long Prattle Poems
Long Prattle Poems. Below are the most popular long Prattle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prattle poems by poem length and keyword.
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Form:
They fell in love and married when she was about the age of twenty.
He knew she liked to talk since she'd already bent his ears aplenty!
She could babble at twenty miles per hour with gusts up to forty!
His mother warned him, "Son, this woman will surely damage your corti!"
Even when in a romantic mood and with her he'd like to coddle,
She would rant and carry on with her incessant twaddle!
She'd prattle at forty miles per hour with cyclonic gusts of seventy-eight!
Only when she'd begin to snore would her unceasing blather abate!
They attended their college reunion and he was embarrassed to death!
She dominated each and every conversation and didn't take a breath!
She gabbled at thirty miles per hour with occasional gusts to fifty!
He hesitated to tell her so but as an auctioneer she'd be mighty nifty!
At her family reunions it sounded as if they were speaking in tongues,
Like the rabble at The Tower of Babel, bellowing at the top of their lungs!
Babbling on and on seemed to be an inherent family trait!
They'd chatter at fifty miles per hour with gusts exceeding ninety-eight!
When his spouse said the grace she'd chat with the Lord ad infinitum,
Asking Him to bless the food and all God's children beginning with Adam!
When she left for Beulah Land, on her stone he had this message etched:
"I could never get a word in any-wise and that ain't too farfetched!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A little homework assignment - if you don't know what the word "corti' means,
look it up in your handy-dandy Funk 'n Wagnalls!
My feelings are a commodity
But what good is it when nobody's buying
My pen drips venom on this paper
A scarlet ink that forms words
It's my own blood
Because I pour my soul into this
But what good is a truth
When everyone wants a lie
What good is a smile
When it's just pain masquerading as pleasure
What good is success
When you give up your identity to get it
And just going to sleep is a struggle
Because you've never attained inner peace
They don't know what it's like to realize
Lies bleed from the eyes and bring demise
And I despise the way my heart skips a beat
Around a person who will never love me
But I'm not here to prattle on
I'm here to talk about my feelings
When they sat me down in a white walled room
And simply stared at me as I stared back
It's frightening to see my own soul
There are truths I can't deny
Truths nobody else will ever know
And those eyes just simply gaze at me
With apathy or empathy I just don't know
And it wreaks havoc on my mind
So I start screaming and sobbing
Until my veins are throbbing
Just trying to evoke some emotion
In those silent eyes passing judgement
But isn't it so ironic then
I judge myself harsher than anyone else
Without even saying a single syllable
Just say something back
But my soul doesn't speak
So I lean in and I punch my soul
With cracks appearing over
Until my soul shatters before my eyes
And I realize the one great truth
The only one doing damage to my soul
Is me and my feelings aren't a commodity
My feelings are an illusion of what it feels like to feel
No, my feelings aren't a commodity
They just confuse everyone else
Who sees something when they gaze in my eyes
That I never saw
So I'll take these disjointed feelings
And use emotions as the glue
To slowly piece my fractured soul together
And when my job is done
I peer into those same silent eyes
And whisper the following words:
"I love you."
Back then, time ticked loudly,
clocks ran faster than chipmunks.
Young bones were fueled by green grenades,
I needed speedbumps for my brain.
Mother said that If I lived to be a man
I would be all strewn about
like a crow-pecked scarecrow.
Eventually I discovered
a way to give words a meaning
outside of the hide-bound and buckram dictionary.
Naturally I had to surrender some grammatical logic
for a more fanciful argot.
It was only then that my pipsqueak prattle
had the effrontery to call itself ‘poetry.’
Now in n my grizzly elder state,
I still remain a rare bird,
ever bamboozled by age-worn chalk-talk,
or any jargon
that refuses to jump out of its own skin.
Distant Thoughts
Who the hell is this Shakespeare dude
and why am I reading this play under a tree?
God these shoes are killing me.
I wonder what’s for supper tonight.
Pray God the king didn’t go hunting,
the kill of the day last week was his squire.
I can’t remember the last time we went out
to eat. No balls, no beheadings, not even
a festival on the town square. We have
got to be the most boring Royal Family ever.
Well! Back to the play.
“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo”
OH! Wherefore is the end of this play?
They’ll prattle on about it at supper as
if it has some great significance. Yeah,
and therefore, harken to the call of the
heart. I wonder if Prince Harrison likes me?
He’s kinda nice, cute in a peculiar sort of way.
I wonder how far I could walk with this
book on top of my head. Damn I’m bored.
5/26/2014
For
Ah, faith! Golly gosh, life in the city!
Hustle and bustle n' a big metro wander
Exhaustion, life, anger and pretty gritty
Misty, grimy lights loudly grab a beggar
The sidewalk shops like a cold surround
Hot action, big ole' vanilla sidewalks
Graffiti walls, in dab color bound
Hot streets quietly grab nighthawks
Where is the sunny cloud vapors?
In downtown burg retreats
Out above on dark street skyscrapers
Crestin' over in mean dark streets
U' gotta love corner words
Chatter, rattle, natter, prattle
People jabber like yakkety-yak birds
Cigarettes gab under dark doorway shadow
Gazing in windows calmly at low down
In dusty, dry walk-in cafes
Grimy flowers grab at dead grass mown
Fish eyeing brutal building facades, near dead eye alleyways
Oh, noise!
Man like a machine
Never like a jackhammer that annoys
The faceless toiler that is mean and lean
Horn noise, action, in a 'crown vic'
Cabbies scowering for revenues
While crashing, dashing in street quick
O' life in bright light big city blues
Within the blah blah blah, heart of the city
You can endure all that jazz you wish it to be
at this junction in your journey at this pivotal point in your life
you need to hear a word from your Sponsor, the Lord Jesus Christ
so stop and take a moment and find some quiet time
to step away from the noise and chaos that seems to be crowding your mind
it's time to declare a moratorium and seek a calm place
somewhere where the world is not all up in your face
some one on one time with God is what you need to discover
an intimate session so you can recoup and recover
people are always saying something, be it good or bad
don't listen to that idle prattle, just remember the love for Jesus had
you need to hear a word from your Sponsor every now and then
a word from the heavenly Father, your eternal friend
Joshua himself thought he would not be up to the task
afraid that he could not do all that of him God had asked
God told Joshua to be strong and have a courage that is bold
for God does not suffer cowards nor a spirit that will fold
a word from your Sponsor, your spiritual backer
Jehovah Shammah, the battle fighter and demon attacker
for as long as you stay in God and He abides in you
a word from your Sponsor will always see you through
so don't let the world make you cry, don't allow it to steal your joy
stay connected to your Sponsor and let His powers be deployed
a word from your Sponsor, a word from the Lord God
Jehovah Jireh, your provider and protector of your heart
A two year old represents herself. Is this a court of law?
"What is your name?" (pronunciation's magisterial)
She doesn't move, she doesn't cry, no tremble in her jaw
There in her seat, she swings her feet... unresponsive is the rule
It's as though she doesn't understand what's going on around her
Like this was some cruel trickery intended to confound her
What's in a name? Is this a game? Who's making up these rules?
Representation, reprehensible from those who've staked their claim
And ev'rything that's done here's done as though it's "In Your Name"
The caterpillar crawls along the leaf from egg to stalk
A journey just the start of a new leaf along this walk
Black and yellow segments leaving no track neath its feet
Three thousand miles before this odyssey will be complete
A migrant moving north to south when it has gained its wings
Generations moving north on milk for queens and kings
The Caterpillar crawls down from the lowboy on the ramps
Each track will leave a track as all will fall before its tramps
And the wall these tracks are making they are making "In Your Name"
The bombs rain down on desert that's been fought over for years
Since the time of Abraham it's served as field for battle
The precious rain that's fallen here has come from children's tears
The babbling brook, from tower it took from Babylon it's prattle
Dividing tongues and tribes and sons and daughters from their parents
Along the lines and signs and tongues as language often suffers
The little children to false kings and prophets here among us
To trudge across the sands of time, ground down through ill fame
And the wall that's built between us, is building... "In Your Name"
...And Alexander Hamilton,
though know for controversy,
served alongside Washington
in the war to make us free.
Helped build up our new armed forces,
set the stage for our economics,
the prosperity we still enjoy,
he had a lot to do with it.
The man stood against slavery
when many just chose to ignore
the problem as unsolvable,
unwilling to seize something more.
He rose up from bastardry
to shape a nation not formed yet,
I think we should remember more
then the sad method of his death.
Then there is His Excellency,
George Washington earned that in full,
the only American soul
who any dare call by that title.
Stuck with an untrained army,
often outnumbered and outclassed,
he wouldn’t fight by Europe’s rules,
and the British he would outlast.
Ill-supplied and often hungry,
he kept the militas going,
and though they would have made him King
he gave it up voluntarily!
Taught us how to be a president,
was not a known thing in those days,
then even left that so he could farm,
the depths of his honor amaze…
Last is the one who didn’t arrive
until three generations later,
Lincoln, the man who finished the job,
that Great Emancipator.
Some would say he wasn’t a founder,
but I must include him within,
the nation we know traces right back
to the great deed done by him.
An ordinary politician
in a nation torn all apart,
forced to grow into a hero,
enough to test any man’s heart.
Forced to fight a murderous war
admist voices calling out for peace,
knowing defeat meant more chaos,
and millions left in slavery…
Nowadays voices spurn these men,
choosing to recall only mistakes,
forgetting that their bold ideas
are what have made this country great.
Teachers prattle on like socialists,
killers of one hundred million souls,
all of our mistakes pale next to that,
it’s a direction none should go.
But the wisdom of the founders
transcends the confines of their day,
they took on the challenge of freedom,
that’s a challenge that don’t go away.
If we take the time to heed them
then we can continue on thriving,
we should revere the founding fathers,
in truth we owe them everything.
My muse rejoices in claiming that she's 'double-faced,
meaning she's comfy wearing leather or fancy Alencon lace.
Rebellious, she urges me to write lines of a violent battle
then she'll steal my pen to scribble some flowery prattle.
She floats through my mind's gate to dance in my garden
and returns several days later, begging for my pardon.
She makes me laugh when she suggests a frivolous word
and clucks her tongue at me when I tell her it's absurd!
I dare not trade her in for a muse who's much less inclined
to be synchronized with my bipartisan frame of mind.
I never know which personality my muse will display.
If you're asking if I have another one ~ I must say, "Nay!"
March 21, 2021
Reveal Your Other Muse
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
*Artwork by Peter Nixon c/o Pinterest