Gorgeous gobbledygook in a babe’s mouth
— masticates with angelic appetite.
From your mouth to his hearty-grumbling ear,
the stomach of his mind chews up the light,
spits out uncomprehended-oatmeal curd,
but favors the cadence of rolling tongue.
The surge of warmth in the sound of “Ma-ma,”
and often the playful silliness, strung
on a baby’s beads, tickle the tired lead.
Like an emaciated bear, he points
to the people and things he longs to pop
in his potato-famine mouth. His joints
well-oiled, never spoiled - the silver spoons’ croon.
He tastes the bittersweet of maturity.
Hears the crude erupting sounds in their vowels,
ferocious consonants - he chants with glee.
He knows not the shock value but learns quick
by the unhinged jaw drop of his mentor.
Did they think he would not repeat such pluck?
He spits out appleseeds - wormy encore.
7/31/2021
Anything You Want
Sponsor: Chantelle Cooke
*Pluck - guts, nerve, fortitude or persistance (definitions.net)
Old sins have a long shadow
The old gnarled woman spat
You will see punishment
In a year and a day as a matter of fact
Into the gloomy night with a full moon
I skulked away with much to think about
I looked up at the new moon wondering
About the words the old woman let out
I decided not to think about what she said
And went back to my lonely life
The grind of work carried me on
As I dealt with each unwanted strife
As the last day dawned I awoke
The brightening sky heralded the day
So I dressed and drove toward the sun
I looked at my phone as the sky darkened away
And that is where it ended
For what was left was uncomprehended
For in the darkness I sit and wait
Wondering if that was all to contemplate .
© Paul Warren Poetry
Walking in the shadows one day,
I found a house decaying,
They said, "Don't go in, stay away,
It's where the ghosts are staying";
I shrugged it off and went inside,
With ferns the porch was covered,
It seemed like someone did reside,
Some fruit bits I discovered;
Gingerly, I pushed the cracked door,
It opened with a great whine,
A staircase led to the first floor,
Which was overgrown with vine;
The ceiling had an etched rosette,
The roof reached up to the sky,
'Twas dark and dingy, made me sweat,
I unlatched a window nigh;
I saw a big garden out there,
Once lovely, now untended,
Suddenly I felt in the air
Whispers uncomprehended;
"Welcome home ", someone loudly said,
I rushed down to the entrance,
And there I saw a parrot red,
The much-feared ghostly presence.
07.15.2020
Rhyme scheme: abab
Contest: Decaying house
Sponsor: Constance La France
an obscurity of thoughts
fall like soft rain
through emotional pain
that linger again
in caliginous mind
that feed my pen
words stumble
atop sheets of white
unspoken, unheard
like soft whispers
of a gentle wind
although seen
remain uncomprehended
like laconic utterance
within bold frames
of darkness
i feel its chill
as i walk alone
unknown
through paths
once blocked
where people stand
beneath the effulgence
of moon's full glow
like stars
together
yet afar
untouched
by my words
or yours
i feel you
guide me as i slump
beneath the shadows
of their selfless rituals
through the force
of my pen
scribbled
through silence
in darkness
alone
July 27, 2019
Sounds of Silence
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Someone told me I must write poems
In the language of common meanings
Like brown paper bags
And the popped out eyes of children
What are poems I asked
The silence trickled into disgust
Not because the dumb cannot speak
But because I cannot make the mute to hear
I pour me out in words
First after being distilled to thoughts
I would not play with these words lightly
Each pourings leave less of me
And when this poem is done I am no more
That is why my meaning stay unique
And uncomprehended as I am
Sorry, I do not write that poem. madam
I write change on permanent memories
In the heart of the deaf he hears a fountain of melodies.
Life is like a circle,
An uncomprehended term
A moment of light followed by;
A shadow of darkness.
Life is nature's gift,
A thing to be cherished, as long as you hold
So live life to its fullest while at its midst
What ever time you have now is yours,
For Tomorrow you may never know.
Life is a treasure for those who know it,
For some its a pain but to others; its whole
For those like me whose days are done,
Can only hope,
For tommorow may never come.
Hearts broken, tears of pain
A whisper of love that lingers in my heart
A pain so unbearable, an unliftable curse
I know i cannot love you and commit my self,
For You must move on with this journey called life.
My time here is done,
What i ask for, is what cannot become.
My life i've lived for giving, helping others was my ideal.
Now that i've done what i came for,
It is my time to move on,
This maybe my one last moment to hold,
To me there is no tomorrow.