At one point in time, there's was one country
As there's one earth, one rainbow and one human race
The wind, rain, smoke, and snow don't recognize
Borders or tiny plots of land that greedy leaders
Think they possess. They will always make errors
Nobody owns a country, tower, a location or a place
As one can only palaver. We can scuttlebutt and dramatize
All we want. Earth or this land is owned by nobody
This land belongs to all. We are passing by as tourists
We are all migrants or immigrants, even the racists
Or the wannabes. We are wayfarers, passengers on a boat
We own nothing. We own no land, no wind and no float
We need to make room for each other. Today is your turn
Tomorrow belongs to no one. This is something we must learn.
Copyright © June 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Since 2020 came to be..its rare i'll tune to
That corperation, hear me..I'll only go there ( to see what lies? they are spreading?) Scuttlebutt, common rumous
Such like.' They'll always mention, I think they're the dregs of the
Drainstream crowd.? Intent on misinforming..In.? Well in making making listeners; cowed.'
Honeyed un-truths their daily staple,
I am much more selective, i search for
Outfits more capable.' Redacted and Vobes, Kris Brooks to..Annas home cooking, all treat me better, thank you.)
Watch the leaves swim in the wind
As Autumn’s corners unfurl
And as we sail on
On the face of reflective waters
In our relationship
Just you and I now empty nesters
No one to pester us
(but we miss drinking from the scuttlebutt)
As we greet and kiss the morning
(And each other)
Now I'm her knight in white
And she's my bride in white
Now its just us twain
Reflections of when we first met
the dawn’s scuttlebutt
dovetails with the dishwasher
whirring and tweeting
the wagging of beaks and wings
movement of a writer’s hands
A closer look at a fantastic word
And no, I’m not talking in bafflegab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
To absquatulate like a fracas herd
Throw a foofaraw over a little jab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A uni-brow is a glabella furred
And whirligigs hung too slapdash to grab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Scuttlebutt schlepped to sassafras by bird
Skedaddle from a skirmish of stone crab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A quibble over razzmatazz occurred
Doohickey from a lummox, easy nab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
So scrumdiddlyumptious I may have slurred
Like tintinnabulation, it’s not drab
A closer look at a fantastic word
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
When you were born, I did not know what to do,
You see, I was only just the age of two.
Wherever I went, so did you
You see, we were stuck together like glue.
Then as we grew up, we started drifting apart.
Yet, you see, you were always in my heart.
If I knew what was meant by those mean boys would impart.
They would no longer have a mouthpart.
As adults, we do not always agree.
However, you mean the world to me.
We lost one sister, something no one could foresee.
Grief brought us back together and we set our squabbles free.
Know that no matter what,
We will always follow our gut,
We will never believe the scuttlebutt
That we are told, we will allow the world to shut.
Aleera, you are my sister now and forever,
And these new bonds I do not want to sever.
I will always be here for you whenever,
And these horrible storms we shall, together, weather.
©Kristy De La Keur Scoville
She sat at your table
You laughed at her jokes
She saw then, but couldn't believe
It was all an orchestrated hoax
You invited her to afternoon lunches
But left her to find friends
Her presence made a difference
But not enough for the lies to end
She beheld the scuttlebutt
You four crowded in static whisper
She was too white for your dark
Drink and tattoo parlors to appear a hipster
You received her flow of life
Inviting your leeches to glow bright
Siphoning energetic creation
So you could be THE light
She said nothing..just walked away
Hoping you would return in time
You did, with gestures of value
To ensure she was still in line
...to bow
TRUTH doesn't speak
She stands in LOVE
Scales in hand
Inside Mama dove
Court is in session
Only WORD has the floor
TRUTH was never alone
Daddy God has cut the cord
...to lies
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03/29/2022
The salesman said, “This computer will do everything,
but wipe your butt!”
My wife said, “If you buy that thing … please tell me …
you didn’t buy all of that scuttlebutt?”
My brother said, “Mine is bigger and better than yours –
more potential and way more storage capacity,”
My friend said, “Most important, does it have AI capability?”
My neighbor said, “That machine will still be fully functional
long after you’re dead!”
I said, “I’ll take it. After all that’s been said!”
written February 5, 2022
especially for "Let's Explore Digital Technology" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Simon Rogerson
Scuttlebutt ran in and bit me.
Harder than a mosquito bites.
I yelled ouch!
Scuttlebutt did a summersault
into my reptilian brain.
She is easy to antagonize.
Scuttlebutt chuckled
So I pulled out my big gun.
Ignore.
tune could not carry
horrible sound would vary
and also very
latest scuttlebutt
trump should keep his big mouth shut
bury with King Tut
they will realize
after hearing all the cries
forgot my french fries
peter forgot to pay paul
when he slipped in shower stall
out from had to haul
many need to feed
must have a group who agreed
should no longer speed
stock market did dive
many hard times would arrive
with God should survive
The bumble bees sounded the horn
Then broke out with all their thorns
For the Gardner who just cut
Their hive into scuttlebutt
They made him wish he was never born
Quotidian
(commonplace or ordinary)
Written: by Miracle man
October 19, 2020
I say this not intending to sound like some old cliché,
but most things are quotidian that lurk in my day.
I’ve never shown much interest in the latest scuttlebutt,
my comfort zone has mostly been the bottom of a rut.
I know lots of people but socializing isn’t my thing,
I face each day and whatsoever it might bring.
I value my privacy and use my alone time to think,
some have tried convincing me of my need to bethink,
An Opinion blindly thinks, but
Boldly speaks out loud
Judgment of...Perspective on...
Doesn't matter to the crowd
As quick as it leaves the lips, it's retold with words anew
Snowballs fast, has bigger plans
For Opinion's point of view
Big Ears-Big Mouths pass it on
Reporting it; "As the truth!"
A small fish becoming a whale of a tale...
Without a single shred of proof
Hearsay tweaks the tale a bit; "Needs more drama"
"I can tell"
(Not a lie, just embellishment...The better buzz will sell)
A Little Birdie told me, in my ear
Flap flap-flapping...Peep
Chattering; "Listen to this" to a;
"That's what I heard!" Sheep
Following the flock, Baaabbling on
Nosy Parker Yakkety-yaks
Gossip climbs on the bandwagon, poisoning truth with little-known facts
Together they spread the Rumor
Through the grapevine, fruit gets ripe
Gossips peck 'til there's nothing left
Of 'Opinions Grapevine' flight
But soon, another Opinion speaks up..
Through the maze, to the Grapevine News
Headline reads;
"Loose Lips Sinks Ship."
Aboard Gossip's Scuttlebutt Cruise!
I don’t like to crow, but I’m an expert at giving my enemies the I-could-not-care-less-about-you strut.
I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret. Watch out when I stick my nose in the air, and push out my big gut.
On a good day, I have been known to preen in front of seventeen amazed women, in front of your very hut.
So stand back, young woman, as I spread out my glorious feathers of turquoise, blue, and green, keep your coop shut.
I know you are looking at me weirdly, wondering whether or not I’m some kind of amazingly good-looking nut.
I’m telling you darling, run for the hills, and find another – there are some at least half as fine, with no scuttlebutt.
I am a danger to you, little peahen, so you’d best stay away, run while you’re at it; follow your gut!
I like travelling a lot
that’s why people are
often giving me guilt trips.
I like to drill and dig holes
that’s why people always bore me.
I like playing possum
that’s why life often passes me by.
I paint a lot in red
that’s why people often catch me
red-handed painting the town red.
I am old-school and like to
hitch rides on horse-drawn cart
but fall off the wagon often.
I bite off more than I can chew
And I am hanging onto life now
by the skin of my teeth.
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