Yammering Poems | Examples

Just a Bunch of Nonsense

Daze and days of penmanship
Potent perhaps a touch of sun
Shipshape warming of outlet ink
Ishmael invites a tale; I say: “stowaway”
Stop all blubbering; just get yammering
Yo ho soupmates, we must steer the ship
Stir golden pot of disbelief and brass tacks
Torrential corkscrew pasta, perhaps?
Pish posh of the alphabet riding the waves
Wending its way, each letter to the crew
Conspirators of sonnets, limericks and dust
Dangerous alliteration, elevation and descent
Decidedly dizain, free verse or blank; thats it?!

Woodpecker Blues-senryu series

beak’s pecking away
chiselling wood from my side
hole reveals insides

is it work or play
pecker’s constant yammering
or to stir me up

plug up scab or slug
the critter who’s fleshing out
a home for squirrels

i’m feeling squirrely
running on a hamster wheel
pounding on the walls

Elmer Fudd my spouse
guns blazing looking for fight
wily rabbit laughs

morning to midnight
tiptoe open door slowly
feels swoosh of bb’s

No birds were hurt in the writing of this poem ;)

Silence is Golden

Witness the folly of the yammering crowd

Those that speak smugly and those that speak loud

Spitting out syllables the live long day

With nothing to show and nothing to say

A chorus line of mechanical mouths

A bevy of bores from the north to the south 

Wherever you go they're standing beside us

Let's pray that they all catch laryngitis

Shackling His Tongue

I am frustrated and annoyed by his ticking,
or perhaps it should be labeled the 'tocking'
By the never-ending tongue wagging clicking
in the language better known as 'clocking'

Must Grandfather Time command my life?
He so rudely continues without a thought
that his hammer yammering rhythm of strife
mocks the beating pulse of my human heart

What a wonderful fantasy my life would be
if for one day I'd not hear his unrelenting beat
I'd be stress free if time would stand still for me
for without his gonging life would be so sweet

In solace of night, I seek sleep and close my eyes
in need of escape and retreat from earthly chore
but I cannot find a moment of tranquil paradise
for his insistent knelling peals out once more

Each quarter hour his mallet chimes out to me
but his clappers sing off key in monotonous song
Not a lyrical lullaby, but a torturous rhapsody
whose tireless verses antagonize me far too long

I'm tenacious to put an end to his wagging tongue
and shackle the swinging motion of his pendulum
Each hour of the day and night would go by unsung
Being silenced is the price paid by the meddlesome

Preparing For the Holidays

Christmas eaves’ drop - red and green leaves of pre-December.
The snow-white clouds, the beard of Santa Claus’ pre-remember.
The elves are surely hammering
whilst Mrs. Claus is yammering.
The yawning of maples and oaks ‘fore their pre-sugar-plum dream.
Boughs with wrappings held high in the pre-burr of holiday theme.
The silver bells are jingling
whilst Mrs. Claus is mingling.
The squirrels gathering chestnuts - heading for the pre-open fire.
This is the time of cheer when old white men are on pre-hire.
Elves in the North Pole, serious
whilst Mrs. Claus is merrily delirious.
Milk, cookies, hot chocolate - cupped, shaped, pre-bakes.
The crisp, grim, lake of late Autumn leaves, Daddy rakes.
From bed, whoops an early “ho-ho-ho!”
whilst Mrs. Claus helps Santa glow.

11/4/2022

The Woodpecker

Rhythmic tapping outside my window
Bring E. A. Poe’s reflections to my mind,
Hammering an aggravating intrusion
The cause of which I must quickly find.
A red-headed woodpecker hammering
Oblivious to his naturally irksome task,
Worse than my turkey hens yammering
Hardly as deadly as the red death mask.
Poe found his intrusive raven engaging
Subject of one of his memorable poems,
The woodpecker brings no inspiration
A muse of no pleasant verses or hymns,
The reason for my current consternation
It brings out my fiercest exasperation. 

Written June 19, 2022

Abecedarian Alliteration

An abecedarian Australian animal activist
Bagged bodacious big bucks
Caustically criticizing crocodiles,
Driving darling dragons
Essentially extinct. Eschewing
Fact, fabricating fanciful fiction,
Grifting gloriously,
He haughtily held hostage
Important, instructive information,
Juxtaposed jaundiced, junk
Kangaroo kills,
Leveling large lizard libel,
Manufacturing marsupial misinformation malevolently.
On other ominous occasions,
Preferring pernicious propaganda,
Quickly, querulously, quashed
Real, rational reports, rather,
Substituted several substantially
Tarnished technical travesties,
Undermining unified understanding.
Very vociferously, viciously
Wrote works without warrant,
Xenophobic xenotypic
yarns, yammering yellow-bellied yawps,
Zombie-like, zealously.

The New School

I saw it being built on the sacred burial ground
of a field I had died nobly upon many a time.

Dark girders arose riveted to the skyline,
ashen boned concrete walls constructed
by unseen hands. 

I still looked to the green field where, as Custer
I had made my many 'last stands'
yet it, like my naivety, was being erased.

I dreamed that I was a dog
chained to the school's bicycle rails.
Inside the new school
demented teachers screeched through split nails,
yammering edicts at small cringing minds.

When they installed the glass
and painted the new school building,
a foreboding stole upon me.

My scalp tingled,
I knew that the arrow in my eye
was going to be pushed
a lot further inward one day.

Some Sounds

Some sounds are
sinewy toes scratching drum skins,
a pigeon shuffle-dance on unseen roofs,
a clatter in the flap and coo.

Rose bushes are mute,
until they have lost their heads
then they squeak and squawk.

A soft-slap of junk mail onto an empty hand,
paper wings falling in an overheard flutter.

Some sounds remind of…
dead-space clambering up a blank wall,
chicken bones rattling in the bubbling-boil;
the sound of deranged harpsichords.

Other sounds are knuckles cracking
under cliffs of silence.
The stuttering oaths of paws gripping 

ice.
The ratatattat scrabble of cats

chasing rats.

Sleep prods ribs until they break-up
with the prattling night,
ear-bones surface, deafened

by the cutting edge of a yammering light.

Y Words-

Y
 Yggdrasil
 younglings
 yobbishly
 yohimbine
 yammering yardsticks
 year-round
 yuppifying
 yuppifies
 yokefellow
 yarborough
 yellowtail Ypsilanti
 yearningly
 yellowback
 yarmulkas
 Yevtushenko
 Yellowstone yachtswoman
 yellowfin
 yellowing
 yearlings
 yodellers
 yearnings
 yachtsmen yesterdays
 yearbooks
 yachtsman
 youngberry
 yarramans
 yellowhead
 yeastiest yardstick
 yieldingly
 youngling
 yogyakarta
 yoghourts
 Yugoslavia yodelling
 Youngstown
 yarmulkes
 yataghans
 yawningly
 yellowish
 youthfully cowardly
 yellowness
 youngsters
 yeastlike
 youngness
 Yiddish
 yardmaster
 yuppiedom youngster
 Yaroslavl
 Yellowknife
 yellowcake
 Yugoslavian
 yuppified
 Yorkshire
 yellowest
 yattering
 yellowlegs
 yesterdays
 yeastiness
 ytterbium
 yesteryear
 yardbirds
 YouTubing
 yellowwood
 yellow-belly
 Yucatan
 yourselves
yabbering 
Y words?


8/11/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©

A Rattling Rhyme

levity
brevity
amorous
glamorous 
dreamily
steamily
rapidly 
happily
carefully
gracefully 
hammering
stammering
clamoring
yammering
merrily
verily 
quackery
hackery
rendez-vous
mountain dew



Submitted on August 19, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND RIME contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND

February 9, 2019 for contest SCREWED XX sponsored by ROB CARMACK  -  RANKED 14TH

and July 30, 2018 for contest A RATTLING RHYME sponsored by NINA PARMENTER

Depressive Canticle

"Inside thy mind hides thine canticle,"
Says the gifted for the chiromanticle.

He read my palms with sturdy eyes,
And said "Boy, there's another in thy mind."

"A voice" he said that "sings you to sleep,
And makes you feel that you must weep.

For the other in you wants you to feel,
Neither joy nor love, of which from you he steals."

"What do I do to save myself," I said,
"He clearly wants me dead."

To which he answered as each 'o his eyes rolled:
"Tell him to close his incessent and yammering pie-hole."

The Strangling Season

In the strangling season
There are too many flowers to count.
My loves fall like petals against my ears.
All this undeserved yammering.
Showers of grace.
And here I kick empty buckets
Remembering what never was.
Age wears you like a coat.
It’s always heavier than you think.
So start moving. Be unbridled.
There is nothing around your neck.

Cry Baby

Toddlers yammering
Grinding wild berries
Misty hopes dwindle
As the rays gray over
Another gaze through the dark
As stars dance round the moon

Boiling degrees melting the night
I wake up to life’s norm
Another day, counted blessing
Dourer than yesterday
Optimistic the Red Cross drives by
Or more graves we shall dig

Whom do I query?
Whom do I turn my vex to?
Who has the reservations?
I believe the milk is not spilled yet
Cheers will still wheel around
Crying tears of deliverance

Strike the souvenirs
Haste to the cries
Behold you save a life
Patriotic to your belief
Don’t let hunger drown us
Tomorrow eager my ministry

Dust will shoe your boot
As you hustle and bustle
Loads will enervate your back
But the medallion is worth
From heaven open doors
Your shack shall brim over.

Soul Sucker

souls sucker to make you beep,
dragged away from counting sheep,
shut up brain no not a peep,
the shadow talkers are sleeping,
voices coming greeting,
an imbecile retreating,
bugged brain is in denial,
ole solitude do smile,
the walls hold shades a weeping,
bugging out this bandy chile,
retreating from the meeting,
awhile...

 why not use schitzo voices for profit???

Don
..re: " Soul Sucker"
Debbie Duncan

 that psychic i no has many voices yammering, was heavily into shooting up, and selects who she listens to...

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