Long Yammering Poems

Long Yammering Poems. Below are the most popular long Yammering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yammering poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Shackling His Tongue

I am frustrated and annoyed by his ticking,
or perhaps it should be labeled the 'tocking'
By the never-ending tongue wagging clicking
in the language better known as 'clocking'

Must Grandfather Time command my life?
He so rudely continues without a thought
that his hammer yammering rhythm of strife
mocks the beating pulse of my human heart

What a wonderful fantasy my life would be
if for one day I'd not hear his unrelenting beat
I'd be stress free if time would stand still for me
for without his gonging life would be so sweet

In solace of night, I seek sleep and close my eyes
in need of escape and retreat from earthly chore
but I cannot find a moment of tranquil paradise
for his insistent knelling peals out once more

Each quarter hour his mallet chimes out to me
but his clappers sing off key in monotonous song
Not a lyrical lullaby, but a torturous rhapsody
whose tireless verses antagonize me far too long

I'm tenacious to put an end to his wagging tongue
and shackle the swinging motion of his pendulum
Each hour of the day and night would go by unsung
Being silenced is the price paid by the meddlesome
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Revelations About Dads Infamous Midnight Lectures

Revelations about Dad’s infamous midnight lectures...
woke up courtesy therapy

Especially during past session
on May eighth
two thousand twenty one
between the hours of five and
six o'clock post meridiem.

Between three and four score years ago
the following poetic ill winds did blow
yours truly felt like carrion
repurposed courtesy black crow
decimated to bajillion pieces
analogous to deaf eat, viz bitter foe
where within bared mine soul

telltale toxin did glow
yes dear reader cumulative wrath – hello
synopsis I invite thee to know 
why self esteem within me so low
lackluster love life accentuated
cuz yours truly 
never kissed under mistletoe

Dreadful homelife upon
exiting early adolescence
no bed of roses parental
wrath did commence
me (especially after
graduating bottom 1%)

scorned as among lowlife
versus being among
productive vested gents
I withstood blistering, mortifying
withering howling offense
yours truly uttered nary a peep.

I dreaded every malevolent utterance
when father requested he speak
not about some choice topic dejure
brought a twinkle to my eye,
but that all to familiar monologue
finding me standing like stone wall
hearing, tuning out with equally
predictable trademark demurely meek
pose with hands crossed against

chest of the then easily intimidated guy
despite feeling effects of utter ennui
and fatigue attempted to stand tall
against the tsunami verbal typhoon
itching to drown out said battle creek
when asked capisce? comprende? farshtayst?
looked blankly at floor well nigh
or pretended to stare at something extreme
fascinating on the kitchen wall

for he may as well asked if I understand
in an unfamiliar language such as Greek
most likely getting successful results
yammering away at common house fly
possibly seething inside (p’raps
equally swatted) ready to lash out into a brawl
held back by fear plus
in comparison to me pop –
just a itty bitty pipsqueak,
who felt onrushing and overpowering

desire to collapse and cry
compounded by growing urge
to urinate from that natural urethral call
spoke nada word, nor gave hint
of hearing from loathsome blather that did reek
like decomposition of fetid of dead
living entity that began to putrefy
which offal to mine ears, tugged impetus
under warm blankets to crawl!

Premium Member Abecedarian Alliteration

An abecedarian Australian animal activist
Bagged bodacious big bucks
Caustically criticizing crocodiles,
Driving darling dragons
Essentially extinct. Eschewing
Fact, fabricating fanciful fiction,
Grifting gloriously,
He haughtily held hostage
Important, instructive information,
Juxtaposed jaundiced, junk
Kangaroo kills,
Leveling large lizard libel,
Manufacturing marsupial misinformation malevolently.
On other ominous occasions,
Preferring pernicious propaganda,
Quickly, querulously, quashed
Real, rational reports, rather,
Substituted several substantially
Tarnished technical travesties,
Undermining unified understanding.
Very vociferously, viciously
Wrote works without warrant,
Xenophobic xenotypic
yarns, yammering yellow-bellied yawps,
Zombie-like, zealously.
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Welcome To the Jerome Show

It was warm in the yurt; the desert was unyieldingly hot.
There was the slight scent of ylanylang, it was sweet.
The guy wearing the yarmulke had a captive audience
He was yacking to the point of yammering, I could barely watch.
Yack Yack Yack Yammer Yammer Yammer
How could these other guys stand it?
He was giving them his lowdown on the festival of Yule.
They yield the floor to him, which was insanity.
I know him well, and he has never attended such a festival.
Someone walked in carrying a tray of food including one yam.
That yam is mine! I yelled with a yowl.
I had not meant this as a yawp, but it came out that way.
I yearned to get out of this yurt, but the show was not over yet.
My cousin was stroking the back of an old man with yellow hair.
A youngster came over to me and asked for a bite of my yam.
I stared him down; I do not even like children; they have no place here.
This is for men, not babies.
Yum! I said. This is super delicious.
The youngster shrugged and waked off, seeming not to care.
Yesterday I might have been a bit more generous, but today I am angry.
I got talked into this gathering, and I knew it would be the Jerome show.
It is always the Jerome show when my cousin is about.
I yearn for the end of this craziness.
I want to go home and be me again.
Form: Narrative

The New School

I saw it being built on the sacred burial ground
of a field I had died nobly upon many a time.

Dark girders arose riveted to the skyline,
ashen boned concrete walls constructed
by unseen hands. 

I still looked to the green field where, as Custer
I had made my many 'last stands'
yet it, like my naivety, was being erased.

I dreamed that I was a dog
chained to the school's bicycle rails.
Inside the new school
demented teachers screeched through split nails,
yammering edicts at small cringing minds.

When they installed the glass
and painted the new school building,
a foreboding stole upon me.

My scalp tingled,
I knew that the arrow in my eye
was going to be pushed
a lot further inward one day.


Some Sounds

Some sounds are
sinewy toes scratching drum skins,
a pigeon shuffle-dance on unseen roofs,
a clatter in the flap and coo.

Rose bushes are mute,
until they have lost their heads
then they squeak and squawk.

A soft-slap of junk mail onto an empty hand,
paper wings falling in an overheard flutter.

Some sounds remind of…
dead-space clambering up a blank wall,
chicken bones rattling in the bubbling-boil;
the sound of deranged harpsichords.

Other sounds are knuckles cracking
under cliffs of silence.
The stuttering oaths of paws gripping 

ice.
The ratatattat scrabble of cats

chasing rats.

Sleep prods ribs until they break-up
with the prattling night,
ear-bones surface, deafened

by the cutting edge of a yammering light.

Premium Member Y Words-

Y
 Yggdrasil
 younglings
 yobbishly
 yohimbine
 yammering yardsticks
 year-round
 yuppifying
 yuppifies
 yokefellow
 yarborough
 yellowtail Ypsilanti
 yearningly
 yellowback
 yarmulkas
 Yevtushenko
 Yellowstone yachtswoman
 yellowfin
 yellowing
 yearlings
 yodellers
 yearnings
 yachtsmen yesterdays
 yearbooks
 yachtsman
 youngberry
 yarramans
 yellowhead
 yeastiest yardstick
 yieldingly
 youngling
 yogyakarta
 yoghourts
 Yugoslavia yodelling
 Youngstown
 yarmulkes
 yataghans
 yawningly
 yellowish
 youthfully cowardly
 yellowness
 youngsters
 yeastlike
 youngness
 Yiddish
 yardmaster
 yuppiedom youngster
 Yaroslavl
 Yellowknife
 yellowcake
 Yugoslavian
 yuppified
 Yorkshire
 yellowest
 yattering
 yellowlegs
 yesterdays
 yeastiness
 ytterbium
 yesteryear
 yardbirds
 YouTubing
 yellowwood
 yellow-belly
 Yucatan
 yourselves
yabbering 
Y words?


8/11/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©

Wordsmith Theoretician Postulates Kooky Equation

Addends, minuend, subtrahends... all Greek
to poor student long haired pencil necked freak.

Damned (internal) revenue stream
plus plugged egress
equals flood of woe
torturous suffocation
of biosphere quite slow
particularly concerning one
Norwegian bachelor farmer from Oslo
amidst the bajillions of people,
one common Joe
(cur) just biden his time

pleading to acquire
much needed dough,
attorney General assistant Lynne Costello
sought out to help yours truly
(to no avail)
hoof hound himself cloven
and rent asunder courtesy
ofttimes mentioned cyber outlaws
preying upon (long in the tooth) fellow
suddenly his entire body electric
being deceived synonymous

with the plot of Iago
in my version starring
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
as none other than Othello
punch drunk as Judy
falling down laughing,
roistering, yammering hysterically
and rolling with a stoned Rockafellow,
whose role as a convincing fall guy
convincingly contradicted himself
as an above board underfellow.

Yours truly voluntarily recruited himself,
cuz he haint been rather astute
therefore welcomes
a swift kick in the derrière
courtesy squared off steel tipped boot
knocking the living daylights
predicated on lovely bonehead moment
linkedin to poppycock that did compute
as sense and sensibility
even suspicious to a deaf-mute
leary toward one extortionist

pièce de résistance, he did execute
and pulled wool over my eyes
analogous to snake charmer
playing magic (Johnson) flute
transfixing yours truly
a dunderhead lunkhead punked galoot
who in hindset could not add up
fishy (worm I going)
oh yeah... virtually nabbed
courtesy cyber bandits,
who gane nary a hoot

prying skewed logistics I impute
to wanna hang myself
courtesy suitable length of jute
tied with Gordian knute
gofundme page welcomes pledging loot
to help me (if you can)
with desired great expectation moot,
hence these lovely bones
when cremated will be transformed
into fine powder
more inert than a newt.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Preparing For the Holidays

Christmas eaves’ drop - red and green leaves of pre-December.
The snow-white clouds, the beard of Santa Claus’ pre-remember.
The elves are surely hammering
whilst Mrs. Claus is yammering.
The yawning of maples and oaks ‘fore their pre-sugar-plum dream.
Boughs with wrappings held high in the pre-burr of holiday theme.
The silver bells are jingling
whilst Mrs. Claus is mingling.
The squirrels gathering chestnuts - heading for the pre-open fire.
This is the time of cheer when old white men are on pre-hire.
Elves in the North Pole, serious
whilst Mrs. Claus is merrily delirious.
Milk, cookies, hot chocolate - cupped, shaped, pre-bakes.
The crisp, grim, lake of late Autumn leaves, Daddy rakes.
From bed, whoops an early “ho-ho-ho!”
whilst Mrs. Claus helps Santa glow.

11/4/2022
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Cut above the Rest

AI poetry and aureate prose is quite often repulsive.
Bathetic prose relying on synonyms isn’t persuasive. 
Content, more important than labels, that spins on looms 
deep, thought-provoking poetry that eternally blooms.
Evocative language that hankers to an idyllic past;
finishing with a flourish leaving an impression that lasts.
Grammar rules adhered to and the spelling precise; 
high-energy prose that wants me to read the poem twice.
Imagery well defined transporting me on a journey
juxtaposed with tantalising realms, but never corny. 
Kicking over the traces and not flinching when 
language treated as an art form with an aurum pen.
Metaphor must be transparent—never an enigma or obscure;
no ambiguities of puns that we as readers have to endure.
Originality—no plagiarism—goes without saying;
poetic licence, within limits, can be quite satisfying.
Quest for illumination on issues that are often moot.
Rhythm and sound have primacy over meaning to boot.
Sensitive treatment of the subject matter will always win.
Tautograms and alliteration mastered … overuse won’t win.
Unusual perspective on a topic, but not a lot of baloney.
Voice of the poet that clearly shines through cacophony—
winged inspiration that soars without fear or favour.
X-rated and risqué offerings would definitely not be devoured.
Yammering critics like an ostentation* of peacocks, while
zealotry that rankles leaves a bad taste—it’s no one’s style.

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