The New Yorker is having a birthday –
It’s made it to one hundred years.
With each story, cartoon, poem or essay,
It’s jump-started many careers.
Despite what it’s called, you can buy it
At newsstands or else go on line
And subscribe – since my brother did try it,
He gets his in the mail before mine!
Colorado is where he is living;
We both read it and then we discuss
All the articles that it keeps giving
To curious people like us.
I have some complaints – sometimes writing
Prattles on many pages too long
And most poems, instead of delighting,
Make no sense and I don’t think I’m wrong.
Yet I’m happy for every arrival,
With a crossword to tackle, as well,
And I hope its continued survival
Will outlast those whom truth would dispel.
Lofty phrases echo the quagmire,
labyrinthine there’s no easy exit;
Treading water but still feel I’ll sink,
intricacy leaves me meandering;
Labyrinthine, there’s no easy exit
for what prattles on inside my head;
I am starving for a turquoise breeze;
Treading water but still feel I’ll sink
beneath this atmospheric storm surge;
Maverick emotions lift me to crash;
Intricacy leaves me meandering,
the weather within is so complex;
My doppler radar spins endlessly.
The paradigm of endearment,
less expressed, less explained.
Our tales of delusion,
Prattles of “what ifs”.
What does a man want?
A healthier morning,
more loving than nights,
pointing constellations and
wishing to countless meteorites.
attention is what, a man always thrives,
“thou beauty”,” thou cheeks”,
my beauty, your life.
Put hand in my hand,
and greet me with a kiss,
I love you a lot... miss….
Lost -
Through an Eagle's eye
Over Fields of plenty
Where rivers and creeks
Never run dry
But I can't feel it
Mountains rising up
Touching the pink, blue,
And rustic orange skies.
I just don't know why
… I just can't feel it
I am a lost page within the novel
No one knows my inner battles
Entering another day
Of constant trials and prattles
Lost –
Through the ears
Of a Great Horned Owl
Where life's creation falls silent
Scurrying about
But I can't feel it
Forests of trees where an
Acappella choir resounds
Magically starting the day
Reverberating all around.
I just can't feel it
And the sea sprites dance
To a rhythm of time
Reaching out to my soul
Touching my heart
Seeking to free and unbind…
I cry, for I can't feel it
No, I just can't feel it
For morning becomes noon
Noon becomes day
For everything has its place
With a time to work
And a time to play
I give up, for I can't feel it
I will never feel it
I look to the four corners
Seeking answers,
But the wind is motionless
And the world, unfeeling
For such are the plans
I never made
So I turn the page….
Cutest prattles of children I adore
Are now the loudest cries I bear
Oh, No! The grieves of these abandoned souls
The worst sounds I have ever heard
Mesmerizing songs of endemic birds I carried
have become a threatening alarm now
Migratory birds missed the way to their hometown
Endemic ones sense no way at all to escape
Minerals accumulated river
is now of blood spilling over
Obnoxious odour it is,
I couldn't carry further...
Daily prayers and chants I hear
have turned into laments with fear
Thrumming thunder drums I bring
turned out to be the horrible skirmishes
Two military factions strictly crafting their plans
Echoing the sounds of huge bombs and gunfires
Reigned over their people by creating boundaries
Unfortunately, this unbiased breeze is same for all
Amidst this tormenting situation, I still try to thrive
to be a solacing breath to the struggling souls out there
If not, I would have become a windstorm
and ruined the entire place certainly
21-Oct -2023
This many guys dislike its mention
Including an owner of mansion,
From avowed lover walking away
And next time block his coming their way…
For even the steadfast tax payer
Regular payment not his prayer;
One could swear there’s no Tax Payer Max
Who wouldn’t want the rules to relax!
As often as not tax evasion,
To depletion of wealth aversion...
What makes a citizen a patriot,
Long prattles about it like parrot;
‘Very proud’ the delivering voice
Though doubtful over it would rejoice…
In US a political risk,
Your rival handling the matter brisk
In Nigeria treated like God’s tithe,
Easily, payers like struck snakes writhe…
Tax payment states its own energy
“Mass non-payment nation’s elegy.”
Mr. John Kerry is not to blame
As he prattles on about climate change --
"Much more important!" he warns, "than Ukraine"
Thus keeping his woke bona fides unstained --
Forgetting his hat out in the rain
JK contracted water on the brain
We booked on the radio as was the way
And out the station we drove away
The radio prattles its continual banter
As we policed the streets at a slow canter
There were disturbances some loud but not unique
And pub brawls to make the night complete
There were shoppies on day shift
With neighbourly disputes sorting out the grift
Throw in a Coroners at some one’s demise
Taking a report through the rels cries
Until the end of the shift comes round
For a quiet drink and to talk it all down.
© Paul Warren Poetry
the earth cannot live without mad!-
someone said
the earth is alive for the madness of her dwellers
I say
sometimes I think –everyone is mad
in breathing, in speaking, in writing
in walking, in doing something….
without knowing self
mad get ready always minutely
cause if people say awkward something
and mad prattles on others as fault finder for covering self imperfection
sometimes poetic music comes as a first raindrop
showers the mad heart
and cleaned heart gets ready to love poetic insanity
a voice comes, a voice goes
a time comes, time goes
the stream comes, the stream goes
today's village, tomorrow's town
change comes with evolution, change comes with revolution
and then change goes to lost
in that losing sunlight
in that losing moonlight
the insanity discovers, invents
an amazing something which brings great change for all to live in peace
-April 25, 2019, Chattogram
I watch her lipstick mouth; it never stops
its movement as she prattles on and on.
And now another famous name she drops,
her daddy’s latest client, known as John
by only his close friends! She widely grins
while spilling secrets all about that guy.
I swear the Gossip Girls had fewer sins
than Pretty Talker. How she loves to lie!
I catch her telling half-truths all the time,
yet all the kids are mesmerized by her.
To me, her pretty mouth seems filled with grime
each time I hear it spew a racial slur.
She has a straw between white teeth. A Coke
She’s sipping now. Oh, how I wish she’d choke!
Written June 28, 2016 for the Pretty Talker Contest of Skatcenter>
In the sunken hollow a gray mass
addles
A silhouette of swaying muskets
shadows
Braying horses the silent vigil
rattles
A curdling breeze across feted
expanse prattles
The stilled pageant concludes with
the order, "charge"
From sheltering tree line, a
disheveled mass doth barge
A shrieking, cacophonous chorus
christens the onslaught
Menacing octave wafts;
Union, tidal waves to
distraught
As sky lazily tints reddish purple bright
She resumes own day at melancholy twilight
Her scarlet lips and luring scent of night,
Dazzling smile wake up lonely hearts at sight
No wonder she's tactful on drunkard's prattles
Humbly strips off pure gentleman's prejudice
Though her soul wanders, physique is generous
Heart never cries for recurring love vanishes
Her vision is not a game it is just a devotion
to be a survival, selling life on negotiation
Illiteracy along penury leads sole destitution
whom should be blamed to push her a lewd relation
Look at her eyes! What they want to you portray
Just an appeal to face for another single day
Listen to her heart! What it may try us to say
No difference of HUNGER what we,you and I say
Swarnapali Liyanage
11/07/2011
perhappenchance
How a dog feels when his neutered
And the vet is undisputed
And the Shiela’s cut you dead
with icy glaze
Coventry uninviting
Really not exciting
Hard eyes are a biting
Should I say
Quick as lightning’s frosty feelings
Inside her head is wheeling
Thoughts of hate now revealing
Petty jealousy
this sunny day
Computer talks and rattles
And the flirting tale a tattles
And it’s not me he prattles
Never never, can I say
I’m only a computer
I’m not the bloody suitor
So switch me off an leave me
Keyboard’s stricken to obey
But time will maybe soften
My sweet comes back to me
As I try to push the misery away
To dodge the loathsome glance
Get a smile perchance
get my sweetie back
Some other bloody way……perhappenchance?
Don Johnson 18-may-11
I blush when I think about the makeup
Of Man. At birth he's weak and insecure
He's helpless, ignorant- a little pup
Has more going for him than this treasure.
And when he matures, mental growth is slight.
He whines and pines and broods o'er picayune
Events: It's too hot! I'm cold! That's too tight!
I hate my job! That cost too much! A tune
That's sung ad infinitum-- Maddening!
There's absolutely no relief from it.
He lies and cheats exaggerates most things.
Befuddles, muddles, meddles, throws a fit.
He battles, tattles, prattles--Stop! Enough
I say, stop the world I want to get off!