she is a jumble mumble, a bumbling boob
lived in a recycled tractor’s gray innertube
her ice maker could turn sugar into a giant cube
behind her back they called her Glorious Goob
she made a fortune, so not a bumbling boob
Stuck up and aloof, she ignored my smitten cousin, Rube
She ran off with a rich guy named Stanley Stube
now Rube sits pining away for her in that inner tube
She took all the sugar, so he does not even have a cube
As daylight fades beyond the distant hill,
Dusk paints the sky in hues of soft repose.
Through swaying boughs, the birds their songs distill,
While gentle breezes dance on tippy-toes.
Lotus treads the path with a weary stride,
Her thoughts are as heavy as the fading light.
Yet with each step, her burdens seem to glide
Away, as if prepared to take their flight.
A flower, bent and worried, catches sight
Of Lotus passing by with a slowing gait.
Its petals tremble in the dimming light,
As if to share in her conflicted state.
The blossom and the woman, kindred souls,
Find solace in their shared anxiety.
As twilight deepens, nature takes control,
Embracing both in sweet serenity.
In the evening's hush, a transformation blooms,
The flower straightens, and Lotus' spirit lifts.
The worried stem no longer bends in the gloom,
As peace becomes the night's most precious gift.
Together in the gloaming, fears subside,
A fresh perspective blossoms with the stars.
The day's concerns, once seemingly amplified,
Now fade like distant, long-forgotten scars.
Written on coarse coarsely written
Mumble-jumble
Words can’t sway, nor delay
Huh!!! Doctor's note
2/28/29
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
when my poems mumble
find words around will fumble
stupid and on would stumble
are things cat enjoys
likes playing with kitty toys
and girls with boys
while idiots will bloom
for us God made room in tomb
so sins He can consume
when with love liter
God became my baby sitter
sinner am quitter
when we found some mace
cat would make a funny face
running set the pace
when my eyes were teary
outside it had been dreary
of we would be leery
when we came to terms
you could see so many worms
consuming all the germs
when being prevalent
they would be ambivalent
all the rules have bent
when we entertain
rather than being insane
we will need a brain
when we saw menu
reading we must continue
seeing sharp sinew
Write bad poetrations, thus inclined
To me, said she gruntingly.
I said my pluraled poetry is good. I just
Cannot blotchitnize bad poetry if I lortryop.
You are brugingthed conceited, she said.
Not, I am the othoriginal peddler of truth.
I cannot lieth for largid butterfunned toffee.
I cannot lieth if I grozling to.
Just as I
Cannot scribshod bad poetry.
She dringulized that anyway
What I think is good poestration
Like thinst
Is actuallyatrocioused poetry; not actually weevilif, but bad-thumpered, bleurgaucratic, officithiyed, cothillous, and torturises people
I beg to differ.
I don’t beg at all, actuallisst.
I insist.
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,mashurbitries.
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!
Ms Mumble fumbles and stumbles
She tried doing something, it turned out to be nothing
SHe swept and swept all under the rug
Not only the dust but even a bug
SHe filled her pockets with lots of loose change
Yes Ms Mumble, I must say, is certainly strange
Her head got stuck down deep in the couch
When she finally got loose she stood with a slouch
Her red hair a mess a green earrings was gone
All she can do is stand there and yawn
She layed in my bed to take a quick nap
The longer she slept the louder she snored
A fly on the wall became very bored
To its tiny ears her snore was a roar
Poor Ms Mubble, the fly began passing bye
Not to say hi, just to pass by
With a tickle on her lobe and a buzz in her ear
Ms Mumble awakes not knowing the year
She sat up in my bed
Began shaking her head
She shook off the fly it landed by the door
A lesson well learned
Ignore those who snore
Sometimes I try to be humble
Sometimes I start to mumble
Sometimes I stop and try
To undo what's been done
They no longer want to hide
But I keep fighting for my pride
Sometimes it becomes more like
A battle that can't be won
There's no champion
When the enemies live inside
All I can do is already tried.
8/20/17
Yuhhh
Uhhhh-Huhhhh
Aduhhh
Yuhhh
Uhhhh-Huhhh
Aduhhh
Yuhhh
Uhhh -Huhhh
Aduhhh
Yuhhh
Uhhh-Huhhh
Aduhhh
Mumble Jumble
Write poem I Will
Excite word and Thrill
Concern a Doubt
Learn must verse bout
Dig this brain Spike
Big this challenge Like
Work hard to Think
Lurk me to Ink
Feel the words Drive
Deal staying Alive
Wear that top Hat
Care that top Cat
Eager writes Read
Meager to Concede
Worried for Outcome
Hurried I did Some
Need me not Fret
Greed not this Bet
Between friend a Test
Preen then we Rest
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.