Mispronounced Poems

The Weight of a Name

Our name is spoken carefully
Like it can break in someone's mouth
No one forgets it
No one says it without meaning

This name was not given
It was carried
Through storms
Inside the pockets of the frightened and the brave

It doesn't matter if it was mispronounced 
Until the syllables bled
It doesn't matter if it feels heavier 
Than the shoulders meant to bear it

This name is key
This name is a mirror 
This name is a debt no one can repay

And when we sign it
Or whisper it
Or echo it from someone who knew us
The air shifts
Something remembers

Home at Last

I found today
I found a start
Along the way
I found my heart

I felt the pace
I felt the beat
I saw her face
I felt the heat

I fumbled nouns
I fumbled verbs
I mispronounced 
I slurred my words

I felt her hand
Caress my face
I understand 
I found my place

To Envoke a Smile

Focus on a plot, may you like a lot,
in this beginning so you introduce-
at it's middle you did deduce-
an end- is what you have, too produce-

Testing this out; you dial out any number,
ask! is Perry - Slap Happy News there with you?
polite voice on that other end said; wrong #
 try again, this is Tate, for heaven sake...

a little later; you 'call again' 2nd time
same voice; have you misdialed again-
you laugh, as you sound off; 'Right then!  
 I'm sorry to have bothered you' again...

'Last dial' to that # same voice, now announce
you had to know-asking, have I mispronounced
I'm Slap Happy News your reporter- I  truly be!
hee hee    " has any calls come-in for me "

silence- a pause, on his other end, awhile...
then right on! - you did produce - a Smile.
well folks all this is 'a PRANK 'also known as...
   conversation, frustration, aggravation

A Spooky Speculation

There are those who think the spirits of loved ones departed
Have moved on to their heavenly reward,
And there are those who think they'd like to, but "cain't"
Because they still need to finish something they have started,
And until some resolve they contrive to move toward,
They stay trapped here on Earth as a "haint".

Poltergeists don't exist, no real proof there at all,
This is just an "old wives tale", at best,
So I'd entreat you to show some restraint.
That strange noise you may hear some stormy night in the hall
Is just weather related, so give it a rest.
You may think it's a "haint",
But it "ain't".

Author's note: "Haint" is an old mispronounced folklore word for "haunt", or ghost.

Broken Footprints From Malfunctioned Steps

tip the scales
break any old barrier
the sound will not be heard
in the dark quiet i am
somewhere where they are not
in a genesis of something undefined
with no reply at all
though an answer is in some sort of abstract code
frigidity has my sweating dry spells mispronounced
falling off the scales
landing onto, but yet and still off the rails
life is fantastic, but still unclean with each spray
not even bactine can prevent the infections that life brings
fall asleep uneven
wake up straightened out perfectly
the stability of it all is all a farce
the arms i die in now will be broken

I Took An O From the Next Wrd

addded a d as i please
mispelt misspelt
carrried an extra r
mispronounsed mispronounced
elongated should be longer
shrinks don't reduce the poem
they just show you what you didn't know
in every dictionary its always spelled incorrectly
drew your eyes to a drawing drawn of dawn dawning
the parts of light split are so pretty
will i tell you something
something whispered low
the crackled cackle of smirk
the taste of apple candy wrapped

Former President Sits On His Yhuge Rump

Former President Trump
Sat on his awesome "yhuge"rump,
Dreaming of having his ultimate revenge
While on a drug and vengeance Benge.

note:  misspelled huge as "Yhuge" because the former President mispronounced it that way and comedians mocked him for it for years.

Veins Just Behind

As snow creamed down the mountain
and moonlight kissed with azure brush
those fractured eyes
and nibbles at marooned cloud
as infatuated laid its head
My leach just a mispronounced spell
Breath lost transmutates to
icicle arrows
and hangs on leadened mist
Echoes drop to knee
and simper of the dark
and shadows dance
with frozen light
to death
To death
life and thought raise frosted glass
as fate chuckles by
and hope a step not made
and fear with canine stealth
veins just behind

Cruel Words

Early on
 When I was young
Teachers would
 Ask me to speak
Quickly then
 All would hear
That I
 Mispronounced my words
Some didn’t
 Think it real
Others just
 Pointed and mocked
Quickly I
 Tried not to speak
And learned
 To hate reading out loud
Doctors worked
 For many long years
Till I
 Could be understood
Memory lingers
 And still it is
Very hard
 To read out loud

Words Unspoken

There's a mispronounced hurt, crawling in my veins.
A thorough disdain, lurking in my brains.
Pouring from eyes, falling from my soul.
Channeling through the skies, a sick twisted role.
Grasping at a fleeting breath, a pain so true.
With a string of words unspoken, I'm losing you.
I cannot sleep, I cannot wake.
Trapped forevermore in a mistake.
Bring me closer, to the end.
A direction from the composer, once a trusted friend.
The thought of it all, so overwhelming and futile.
Hoping for my fall, hoping for a crescendo of style.
Can I see the sky, hiding in your eyes?
Will I be left to die, left in a secret hearts lies?

Mispronunciation

I think it is funny how OFTEN we are wrong, 
How we don’t speak the right way,
How words that are written throughout the LIBRARY, 
Aren’t the words that we say,

From FAUX PAS to ALMOND, to ET CETERA, 
GENRE, and FILM, and BOUTIQUE,
Commonly miss said, uttered all wrong, 
Razing the way that we speak,

I think it’s important we clean up this CHAOS, 
Our enunciation becomes understood,
And we clean away DEBRIS of mispronounced words, 
That we talk, you know… proper and good.

Mixed Culture Stream

The impetuosity of inanities
Life spills, deals and fills
In tones and zones of vanities
Raised to a crescendo on hills and bills

On the beleaguered bottom
Society sinks into new perspectives
Derived from the atom
Devoid of subjective directives

Issued at the behest of power corridors
In lumps and stumps of mispronounced announcements
Trembling and rambling at defiant doors
Terrified and petrified at pronouncements

Scoffing at millennials
Accused of fussing over instant answers
To complex matters in denials
Over layers upon layers

Overlaying transitions from entrenched traditions
Assimilated and formatted over centuries
Of rigid implementations and regimentations
Too inflexible to consider modern luxuries

Striving to supplant 
Commands and demands
In a slant
Teeming with reprimands

Queering the pitch
Making the foundation fusion task harder 
To switch
From the tradition defender

To an accommodation of values of old
Held in high esteem
And new values so bold
They create a new mixed value cream within a mixed culture stream.

Photos With Glitches On Invisible Wings

You're a camera obscura, a broken bell's rings,
You made me dance slowly on sad phantom strings.
You always had the slightly off-color touch,
Your insensitive skin never softened up much.

Our meals were quiet with subtle trespass,
Off like a mispronounced requiem mass.
I corrupted your files, threw you askew,
You knew my pictures weren't entirely true.

We never could see in each other's mirrors,
Our focus was broken, our lenses were tears
That clouded our vision, that shrouded the past,
Our statements were false, or if pure couldn't last.

I voided your interest, the chasm was steep,
You fell into boredom, I put you to sleep.
You woke up translucent, you dissolved in the air,
Did I ever see you, were you ever there?


December 17, 2016
For Daniel Turner's contest - 'What was I thinking'

Nardy

He came to school in worn out teeny shoes
with a scab on his knee and a sour attitude
He talked with a lisp and bad pronunciation
which made things worse in a bad situation
Always fighting and calling bad names
Always pointing fingers at others to blame
Always rude and crude having little shame
and when he mispronounced it he got a new name
Kids called him naughty, naughty mean boy
but he pronounced it nardy, with it we toyed
Mocking him is Nardy the mean boy
Singing Nardy Nardy brought us such joy
But he liked it and took it to name
Lived it and rived it to us with pain
To him Nardy was a badge of fame
to us it became an unwanted game
As the school year dragged into cold
taunting Nardy just got tired and old
I asked his real name and what did he say
but Bartholomew Augustus Day
He became just another friend to play
we all agreed Nardy forever he would stay

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