Short Clattering Poems

beer cans empty
clattering drunkenly
down somber, sober alley...

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History’s horse-hooves are clattering by,
Cobblestones ring with sound, 
Dinning our frightened ears
Over the future’s ground,
Signaling coming years.  
But hooves trample you and me.
Damned history....

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empty beer cans
              clattering drunkenly
                     down a sober, empty alley...

       well within the full circle
              of a sedate neon halo
                     'neath a full, groggy moon....

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Screaming whistle
.   Start! 
Puck drops.
Clattering sticks,
splintering on ice
Crowd roars
Skates scrape, 
Sweat stinks
Ice sprays, 
Blood splatters,
Player down!
Ear splitting whistle 
.    Stop!



a different kind of vignette...

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Standing on the bus
holding onto the top rails above the chosen seated
I heard myself suggest a dare
Let you hand slip
Clattering head as it falls
but apologise blaming your sleeping hand
Fifth time this week
Totally addicted
let the laughs roll...

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The empty train stations,
The flood lights far away,
disco lights flickering,
the whisky glasses clattering,
among the laughters,
my hidden sorrow,
in many stories
came to mind,
floods in tears,
were lost in the wind.
The words of a fool 
or the words of a drunk....

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2 on PowerBall.
1 on Lotto.
Can I get my check?
*clattering of a drawer set down*
I would like to pay my utility here.
Signs up yet?
*beep* "beep* *boop boop*
and all the little things
they say to me go on
and on
and on. Till I am done, and
what is left me dried 
out....

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layers of a personality
apple cheeked marionettes
acting evil and good
soothing smooth smiles
and blood curdling stares
sometimes the arms drop off
with clattering noise
clothing will tear
or succumb to linen rot
but heroes and villains shine only at night
so ordinary in the light...

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No title
The sun rises and sets
The soul and body play game
I perceive, though.

For no meaning I skip a pebble across the river.

Without any goal
I cast a line fishing in the pond.

With no reason 
I kick off empty cans clattering.

Please, don't inquire where I am 
In a dense fog....

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Stones bashing against my glass barrier
Clattering all night through
I just want to sleep as much as I weep
What am I s'pposed to do?

Stones bashing against my glass barrier
You say that you're glad as can be
I just wish some day, they'll be better for you
I just wish your blind eyes could se...

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No title
                                      Robert Chung
The sun to rise and set,
The soul and body to play game
I perceive, though.

For no meaning
I skip a pebble across the river.

Without any goal
I cast a line fishing in the stream.

With no reason 
I kick off empty cans clattering.

Don't say 
Where I am in a dense fog....

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Sparkly, dazzling dresses
Lovely made up faces
Tinsel in hair
Glitter to spare
Moments of glee
Captured in a selfie

Waiters bustling
Calling out orders
Over everyone chattering
Glasses clinking
Plates clattering
Cutlery clanging

As familiar songs play
Last christmas seems yesterday
Memories rush to mind
Of Christmases long ago...

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Crippled by the gun
Reminders of life being done
In a team 
Movement to the scream
Inferno of insanity
Never ending results of vanity
Aluminum scraps all of the scene
Lighting glows in a sheen

Mental breakdowns
Internal empty rounds clattering upon the floor
Napalm dressed corpes
Drowned bodies twisted and warps
Sovling crime is what me do....

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Angry and thundering skies,
Free random moving charges collide,
The magic of electricity,
Material medium is not needed,
Nature propels collision as charges,
 jump from one level to another,
Dark dense moving clouds accompany this,
There is a boisterous flow of wind,
Clattering and clinging sounds can be heard,
Water flows from the fountain above.



March 8, 2022....

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Hammers of hate beat the steel
Into a helmet and blade.
Blacksmiths and armorers feel
Proud of the death-bound brigade.

Marching past crowds on the curb,
Clattering heels on the stones.
Later, the crows will disturb
Flesh as it ripens on bones.

Preachers and Popes prate of peace,
Powerless to change history:
Powder, and guns wrapped in grease
Auger what always will be....

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I know if this country of ours is tiger
     sometimes would go hunting 
    and sometimes may be hunted upon 
  now, how do we know whether tis prey or predator?, 
    which cry is prey and which one is predator?, 
  do  we call such notion revolution or sigh or development 
   or growth. 
  Which at the moment is like clattering?,  metering?, 
   nary-freding or waking?, eh?....

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Shadows dancing about,
encircling around wrists
changing into snakes
and then it rains blood.
Constricting coils of rope,
a clattering of bones.
Laughter surrounding,
legs run but everything
is slowed down.
Screams are silently
stolen from lips.
Falling down into
a pool of fire.
Eyes close in horror,
open again....safe.
Alive.
Awake, in the real world.

Karlin K. Jensen, November 21, 2012...

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I.

Ghost-wagons roll in the ruts,
Creaking and clattering on,
Passing the villagers’ huts,
Peasants relieved, once they’re gone.

Spirits ten centuries old,
Ghosts of barbarian tribes--
Tribes whose maraudings are told
Shudderingly by old scribes.

II.

Ghost wagons leave with no trace.
Oh, but where is your child?
There he is! But look at his face!
Savage-eyed. Daemonic. Wild....

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Spooks were making love their bones were clattering
                       Fresh in after death sex they were a prattling
                                 They missed the first session
                                   How to spook the passion
                 And slipped to their graves skulls down saber rattling










          Spooks were making love© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 14 November 2014...

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Crow lines wrinkle the sky.
Bare trees pole dance with a naked wind.
A clattering rain washes winter's watery eye's.

A man walks with himself.
His great coat belted tight,
a frozen bonnet of thorns
upon his chilled head.

Only the empty graves of yesteryears
can see him.
Only tombs and crypts
may greet him.

Only the long lost, long forgot
may follow,
as they walk within themselves
one step behind....

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Unmistakable, that sound
Hooves clattering on the arched
Wooden bridge

In pursuit

Keenly aware of the thumping 
Of my own heart

As the woods on the other
Side of this ancient traverse
Offered escape

Pine needles and moss underfoot
I weaved my way under mountains
And over rushing rivers to a shelter
I’ve visited before

A cool drink of mountain creek water
A stone’s throw away

A stone’s throw
                                                 Away


12/4//12...

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The earth trembled that day, 
The clattering sounds fused
With crying sounds
Could be heard from miles away,

The fear etched on the faces of many
The screams of pain resounding 
While they scramble to safety
Tramping each other in the process

It is impossible to escape
Without being traumatized 
Left with visible and invisible scars

Those lucky enough to be alive
Relay tales of horror
With loved ones missing
And many still ensnared beneath buildings and debris…...

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The plumbing here is atrocious
With clattering so ferocious
It spits and splats, like angry cats
And can also; be quite precocious

Just a tiddle, as with its handle i fiddle
Gazing into its innards, only a dribble!
I peer so intent, on my knees in a dent!
As concrete makes; pain so complete.

Wow, I lurch without perch and numb feet
In I draw breath, then rattle smash bash
A torrent’s comes flash' a watery lash!
In sodden clothes, I must beat a retreat.

©Joe Maverick 20-11-2022...

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