Mumbled Poems

Processional

Masthead Media Group

Chug Cramproll made his heelstand in Buffalou so the story goes.
He sprinkledd sand on a surface
and made percussion sounds to the amazment of an audeince.
The song "Mumbled" was used as his entrance theme.
It's beleived it was remixed to the standards
of Modern sounds to have
a edgey Urban feel. " Jive Talking" Cat Vamp was said to be his manager.
"Scatt " and Bebop accompanied them to the ring. Off the wire these sounds like 
"oh-be Doo-Bee" with some "ahh-you ahh's"
the debutting sounds of reasons.
So Right" and Yubbia Yubbah"
modern talking swing grooves.
When asked about that debut he said
" I'm a fool to want you: you know
that's life: thats the way it's gotta be!"
Where's that Crooner man; WWhere's that Crooner?"
Zu Du-dum: ooh we!
ahh wee ah!
OOh-wee!

Ruby Leaves and Breezes

Written: August 28, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Joseph May 

          ***********

building celestial diamond — eolith fog glamor
yet not every flame is meant to last
there were no sacred vows, oaths, or clamor
just the gentle whisper of a love we outgrew

amber breezes carry dancing embers
not every farewell requires a curtain drawn
ruby leaves drift slowly, tracing days' tempers
while breeze sings dulcet songs on the worn trees

kindling leaves mumbled nostalgia’s orchestral pulse 
akin to the gentle blinking of newborn stars
the harvest moon glows with ancestral impulse
casting shadows shaped such as memories

fallen gold blends with ivory joy 
where owls sing hymns in a minor key
hope flickers in the silence of every decoy
as roots hold secrets only the night can view

I Shoulda Said That!

In the heat of prior confrontations,

My tongue, well then, was typically tied.

Later, with all the right conjugations,

Well then, my tongue, so easily replied.

CURSES, I Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda said,

But, no one heard, as I softly mumbled.

Cuz, all the right words, dancing in my head,

Tripped out of my mouth, completely jumbled!

Those nights had in the sun

The city held its hand out to you and you felt like you’d become.
The flashing lights, drinking and dancing nights is where your adulthood had begun.

The wayward walk and drunken fights where no logic had ever won.
Pride or is it sorrow now fills your mind, to see what you’ve become.

The years fly by and your reflection starts to cry as you realise age has won. 
You still feel young and ache for the careless, never ending fun of those nights you had in the sun.

Now creaks and pains try their hardest to remain as you try to remember lost loves in days now gone. You realise when your mind tries to rationalise how old you have become. 

Where once stood so proud your youth and glory so strong and loud now looks back at you in mumbled confusion for why that strength and confidence cut and run.

Thunder Mountain

As I fondled my plunder
A wind from down under 
Got caught on the breeze

It wafted and floated
But still I felt bloated
And dropped to my knees 

As it tore me asunder
I recalled days of thunder
What'd help to appease

My stomach just rumbled
In agony mumbled
Some TUMS if you please 

Took more than two rolls
Prayers read from dead scrolls
To cure this disease 

But then belly now loaded
The wind then exploded...
And blew bark off the trees

Confession of a Serial Killer

they wheeled me in like a busted fridge
metal bolts, the stink of bleach
my hands were calm for once—
you'd think I'd scream,
but I'd already done all my screaming.

a priest mumbled junk at me—
I asked for a cigarette,
he gave me god instead.

the guards were kids
shaking like leaves
they strapped me tight
like I was gonna run.

I looked at the bulb overhead—
thought of the girl in Idaho,
how she laughed
before I broke her neck.
I almost cried.
almost.

they stuffed cotton in my mouth,
clamped that steel cap down
like I was a bad battery.

somebody puked.
someone else prayed.
me? I grinned.

the juice hit—
a million volts of penance.
my spine tried to climb out,
my teeth danced,
my bowels gave up.

and still
it didn’t feel like enough.
not even close.

Stranger Things for Strangers

Play staged, they came, 
mostly strangers to the stage,
as first time viewers,
to watch the play -
'Stranger Things: The First Shadow'.
Noisiest crowd I ever heard, 
au naturale, to boot.
They ate popcorn, mumbled throughout,
if bored they left,
if frightened they screamed, 
if spellbound they gasped,
if awestruck they sighed,
if saddened they moaned.
The live stage play 
in Charing Cross Road was
veritably Elizabethan,
with Shakespeare backstage
in the bleachers.

What My Inner Voice Told Me Simon Says

My inner voice, is a two-faced bard,
That takes all credit when a win is starred.
But slinks away and hides when the outcome,
Doesn't match what it said, what's to become.

Can I read its doubt in the quiver of its sage?
Or in the mumbled, jumble of its feeble grab to engage?
It can be so assertive when it has brace of winners in the bag.
Who am I, to shun the chance to cheer a winner's brag?

Your inner voice learned to mimic all your plays,
It's like just a ventriloquist in so many ways,
With you pulling the strings for its 'Simon Says' and 'Nays'.
'Tis the script behind the curtain that the prompt obeys.

Simon Says: "Jump", 
Simon Says: "Sit",
"Stand" - Ah Hah!
Gotya! There!

The Story of Goodbye

That one day
Is it warm?
She couldn't tell
She is furious
That one moment
Everything's unclear
Seems normal to him
Not really for her
Black is his color
Pink is her color
Waves are coming
They face it together
Yet, he walked away
She left alone...
Mmm, she can't believe
Kept asking why
He can't answer
Guilty? A big NO
Just don't know
Someday you'll see
What she can do
Foolish you are
Don't be innocent
Coz you started this
"Go away", she mumbled
Then she's quiet
But... be careful
This is his last chance
Not to lose her... 
But that's all... 
It's the ending
All turns into silhouette
Everything vanish
Wrong decision... 
She wave goodbye... 
"My love.... I can forgive" 
But... 
Forever you'll be forgotten

A Treat

   Momma must be able to read my mind.
   I was only glaring at the girl from behind.

   Momma said, " Whatever you do,
                          Say something nice.
                          I don't want to tell you twice!"

   Stretching high on my toes,
   I took a deep breath.

   I mumbled about.
   What came out was, "My what nice shoes you have."

   Momma gave me a strange look.

   Stumbling along I continued to say,
   " Your toes fit so nicely, were the shoes made that way?"

   I must admit I struggled that day.
   Saying something nice is harder when you try.
   Particularly to meet Mommas expectations,
   And she gives you the evil eye.

   Turns out there were no shoes,
   Just feet encrusted with dirt.
   No money for shoes.

   It worked out that day,
   The girl turned around and explained she wove flax and created shoes.
   She became my best friend,
   And is to this day!

   The flax shoes stayed on her feet.
   Having any coverings,
   Was quite a treat.

Did you see how that cookie crumbled

Did you see how that cookie crumbled,
and then tumbled, and tumbled, and tumbled,
from the tabletop down to the floor,
and then tumbled and tumbled some more,
and did you hear the "Oh no!" that she fearfully mumbled?

Malakar’s Calamity

upon his tower dark and tall
malakar stood to doom them all
with lightning flashing, cape unfurled
he cackled, "Now I rule the world!"

he pulled the lever, struck a pose
but fate, unkind, had other woes
for with a snap, the lever broke
and hit his minion (Grubnuk croaked)

his robots sparked, began to dance
one juggled fire—badly, perchance
another whirred, then high-fived air
while malakar just stood and stared

“uh… that’s not right,” he mumbled low
as sparks set fire to his own robe
he tripped, he tumbled, with a groan
and soon his tower stood alone

for down he fell, a mighty crash!
right in the king’s grand pumpkin patch
now in the dungeon, sipping tea
he plots his next catastrophe

Arctic Antics

A crunch of snow
Alerts the prey
To freeze…
Or flee

A cat
Shakes it paws
Thinking
“shoulda used the litter box”

A dog
Rolls happily
Wrestling
Its inner puppy

The metallic sound
Of shovels
Mutes
The mumbled curses

Sparrows wait
For sunrise warmth
And the boring
Breakfast special

The solitude wing

Still love those wings who cut the air
A freedom to fly 
People adored my beautiful wing pair 
Colour was radiant - like morning sky 

Used to feel like celeb when they chased-still unaware
Those affection were only for wing -where i used to rely 
Used to have bundle of affection and care 
Were a beautiful social butterfly ?? 

Went to a beautiful face 
Thought they love me from the core 
Surprise - they changed the case 
Cried in pain - cause my beautiful wing they tore 

Sitting on a flower - leaving the trace 
Nobody recognised - made my heart sore 
Suddenly strong storm chased 
Mumbled what's more ? 

The black storm made me rest on home 
Days of rest my wings started to come 
Smiled but after min it faded 
Noticed wing - it's now black with the spots of bloody red 

For even solitude my wing still exist 
Everything silent it's their beauty in this 
Learnt to fly inward where peace resides 
Converted a social butterfly to home fly with universe inside


Thanks

Terry Pratchett

I could murder a curry, Death mumbled under his voice
A Terry Pratchett icon in his fantastic discworld universe 
Imagination…the inspiration of many
This legend awe inspiring…
Every book, every tale
Breathing new life into each 
Even as his was failing
A small token of homage
For soo many hours spent
Ensconced in his world
All his characters my friends
Feeling familial traits even in luggage, the many legged suitcase
I explore tiffs world with her little blue men
And my heart broke with all, when granny Weatherwax saw her end
My favourite character to be sure, i cried and cried
I only lived that book once as it crushed me inside
So I re read the old tales where she’s living a new
All the while feeling that her character was you
I broke just as much, when I heard you were gone
The end of an era, new tales now anon
A tribute to my favourite author anew
We all drop our hats.. 
Terry Pratchett it’s you

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