Long Tittle tattle Poems
Long Tittle tattle Poems. Below are the most popular long Tittle tattle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tittle tattle poems by poem length and keyword.
The Ghost Train
North Wind, it was a howling, the sky was black as guilt
Malevolent the sheen, where upon her moonbeams spilt
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Roaring down the line, she was roaring down the line
Charging down the line, the Ghost Train rolls tonight
She glides along the platform, where haunted faces wait
With dreams of grand ambition, that only she can slate
The driver in his blood red suit, turns a skeletal grin
Toward the hungry hopefuls, then ushers each one in
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “We can’t be late”
For time is money and money won’t wait
With shovels full of human desire
He fuels the fire of hate
The whistle cord is pulled, the flag flutters all clear
The engine she is plied, starts the journey into fear
On it goes a rumbling,
On it’s round iron feet
Inside the folk are tumbling
From every leathered seat
Amid the laughter and the chants
What life, what love, what times
Everyone is held entranced
By ghostly railway lines
Tittle tattle chatter, ash from the chimney pours
Natter rattle clatter, onward the Ghost Train roars
Strange games are played
Some win some lose
Sincere thank you’s become mislaid
As each the other use
Beneath the load the earth she quakes
As all aboard debauch
Done deals and shady handshakes
On every carriage porch
Kerching-kerching-kerching, the till bell rings
More-more-more, the engine softly sings
From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine, right to left
He fuels the fire of fate
He mutters and stutters, “we can’t be late”
For power is waiting and power is great
With shovels full of human remains
He fuels the fire of hate
In never ending search, she roams across the land
Controlled by the evil, of the blood red suited hand
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Charging down the line, the Ghost train rolls tonight
If it pulls into your station
Will you jump upon its frame?
Will you lose all inhibition?
On your way to wealth and fame
For when the ride is done
There’s no-one else to blame
If you find you become
Another furnace flame.
Do you think you can win?
Do you even think you can contend?
When the tempestuous trolls come out to play...
1, 2, 3 to infinity with the vitriol they spew your way
These keyboard assassins will peck you into oblivion.
So, why bother? They know neither where you're going nor where you've been
They scroll incessantly in search of their next victim
It doesn't matter what the pronoun is: her, him, they, or them
The exorbitant amount of shade that's thrown while you bask in the sun.
Shade! So much shade that's meant to dim your light in your season
So, jumping into the ring for an online battle is futile
Because online hits come from all angles and the blows can be brutal
A prudent man knows to stay clear of this ring
He knows it is a place where many revel in sordid, tittle-tattle, and mindless things
So why enter a ring where it's impossible to win?
It shouldn't even be a second thought because you can't even contend.
Like many comrades and councilors of Moon Knight,
Daredevil, Matt Murdock, was in fight and might, bright;
Reservoir of Herculean power and strength,
He could lift thousands of pounds and punch any length...!
Gymnast! Acrobat! Olympic muscle tissues!
He could suffuse or transfuse perilous issues.
Power, born of self-will experimentation,
Fused in him mercurial mobilization...!
Rat or cat or elephant like sharp hearing sense,
Owls and eagles like radar vision effulgence;
Enabled him antidate his environs clear,
And respond and combat with vehemence severe...!
Lion-like he could fight Captain America
Superman, another puissance replica;
Moon Knight and Daredevil, though, fought a tough battle,
Merged to collaborate with warm tittle-tattle...!!!
31 October 2022
Moon Knight Friend or Foe Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Bookends call a gaggle of bedraggled books to attention.
The big fat tomes, short stories, paperback,
are all pulled into line, toe-to-toe buttressed on parade.
Books need bookends to get propped up and be seen,
to get up out of bed, get dressed and be presentable.
Likewise, bookends need books to lean against
or else they topple over in a huddle.
They pine, sigh, moan and whimper,
with no books to embrace and cup one-handed.
Like spoilt kids they chuck temper tantrum fits,
get hissy, fall over, lay on the shelf and sulk.
So remember to keep your books and bookends
in happy symbiosis, with good reads kept to attention,
held in check by bossy bookend majors.
But, beware, those cheeky bookends tittle tattle at night,
and can speed read between the lines.
They skip the plot, and jump straight to
'In the Beginning' and 'The End'.
"You'll find more peace in your life if you refuse to listen to idle chatter."
~ by poet
When a squirrel does it, he sounds like the Madd Hatter
But when doves coo it, it's more like romantic chatter
Chickens cluck pecking for grain that makes them fatter
and Meerkats jabber as a warning signal to "SCATTER!"
Often defined as the noises made by monkeys and birds
but I've heard such gibberish spoken by humans in words
and clinical conversations of dialogue by high-tech nerds.
I wonder if baaing and neighing is chatter among herds.
Chatter can also be considered as gossip or tittle-tattle
or as irrelevant talking, which is idle or foolish prattle.
Perhaps used in bovine circles as mooing among cattle
and the goo goo sound of a baby when shaking a rattle.
I've known a talker or two who I'd label chatter bugs
who can become more annoying then crawling slugs
That's not the kind of people I'd want to give big hugs
for their chatter might persist until I'd need ear plugs.
There's muttering and piffling, cackling and yammers
who'd talk day and night til you put on your jammers.
With nonstop chit chat, they blabber in noisy clamours
until you can make it stop with whacks from hammers!
February 4, 2023
Writing Challenge - C Words Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
The leaves are slightly ripening
Signaling that fall is slowly approaching
Summer is still burning hot
and mutiny is fading on the rock
I quickly quell the silent fire
with something that is solid sound and proper
I have been quiet for many days
listening to what the Gods have to say
They have given me a prefect answer
so stay out of my blooming way
and stop spreading propaganda
Your negative prediction will never transpire
I couldn't bear to listen to the tittle-tattle
I was musing all over and rose from my prosperous chair
with a solemn message to find the trouble maker
and retrieve the destructive hammer
Here I am in Ellanor's park feeling energetic and strong
holding the powerful universe in my hands
I am surrounded by strong healthy green trees
Listening to the drowning sound of the crickets singing in the breeze
The foul mouth giant has tried to root me up
But I am cemented a thousand feet into the ground
My foundation is laid on a steady rock
and I am ready for the building block
hypocrites line the street listening to my heart beat
Hypocrites sits at my table wondering if I am able
I have been on the road since twelve years old
Keeping my eyes on the big brown door
And I have worked relentlessly for the people around me
defending and doing what I believe is right
and standing up strong to the bull fight
I did not inherit a house of pearls
I have to be a strong example for the rest of girls
We are living in a global instability
and this is no time to start a public mutiny
Everything looks green around me
and I am going on the road again
I will be in it for the long haul
Because I have to answer to the masters call
My mind is set and my spirit is strong
Let us all move along and conquer together.
Here i sit
In the Country of my Scots
We are Albannach
Celts, we are taught
For many, many years
Our clans have fought and fought
Races have invaded our shores
But our freedom can not be bought
Our Clans are segmented throughout my lands,
in times of good we are in clannish dispute, and in
times of hardship, we congeal and unite as one
My questions and words, if you are there
You are obliged to listen, as i am here
If you are a teller, your words should be strong
Do you speak like Semaj, like his words do belong
I see these scrolls, from many years in worlds past
Written by elders, hidden to last
Their words of wisdom, powerful they may be
Come with me to the future, to the land of thee
These indigenous lands, spirits so free
In natures portfolio, they are the decree
For over two thousand years, religion has ruled.
Have we been taken in, and now in blinkered rule.
Do we look back to the Heathens, the Pagans the Mayans
where we look to our leaders, and their suppression
we rely on
Scriptures, books and scrolls, the writers of wisdom.
The elders of nations, in current living kingdoms
Without a book, there is no story, no paragraphs,
no believable glory.
In the modern days before 2012, in the world of Semaj
words can be heard. Tittle tattle about this and that,
once our worlds gone, that's that
A word in your ear
From father to son
Hear the word that I say
I fought with you
Fought on your side
Long before you were born
Joyful the sound
The word goes around
From father to son to son.
( Lyrics by Queen of Queen II )
My entry into Matt Caliri contest " If i Could Talk to God "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-6.php
Gonifs and gossips revisited
since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...
Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.
They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."
We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.
Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.
Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out
(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up
some juicy tidbit with any luck
taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos
rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.
Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!
Throwing Shade is aimed at one's aspirations,
dreams, and optimism, Throwing Shade.
Including confidential matters once shared one's
thought might be kept privileged,
information at one point handed out is now
disclosed, Throwing Shade.
Unrestrained talk spreads like wildfire, Throwing
Shade.
The company you keep amongst others you're
aptly aware that one does not mingle with,
Throwing Shade.
Feeling like if one is in contempt of court, hold
one's tongue for anything mentioned will be
used against one, Throwing Shade.
For what purposes? was it something that was
said? One playing both sides for tittle-tattle
en route for gain? Which one is fame and fortune,
Throwing Shade.
When you know one doesn't engage in fictitious
shenanigans, Throwing Shade spreadable like drawings.
Brutus, my slavering Rottweiler, growls
He knows he's tougher than pooches with tails
The long pointed studs on his black leather collar
Are matched by his canines which make poodles holler
The drooling saliva that trails from his jaws
As he lumbers about on his four massive paws
Is soaking the ground and his talon like claws
Encouraging folk to keep children indoors
Devil Dog, Satan’s mutt, hellhound and more
All labels my beast has been nick-named before
I feed him on red meat and shin bones of cattle
It’s said he eats tigers but that’s tittle tattle
The park is all ours because other folk run
But wait, there’s a kitten, now this could be fun
Brutus will rip him apart for a lark
And splatter its blood and guts over the park
Hey, kitty kitty, come over to me
Play with my dog, what good friends you could be
But kitten was clever, too clever for me
He hissed and now Brutus is stuck up a tree