"babbler" poems
1748
The reticent volcano keeps
His never slumbering plan—
Confided are his projects pink
To no precarious man.
If nature will not tell the tale
Jehovah told to her
Can human nature not survive
Without a listener?
Admonished by her buckled lips
Let every babbler be
The only secret people keep
Is Immortality.
12.9k
Bus-riding, crumb-counting hand wringers
Bibble-babbler, channel-flipper slogan slingers
Keep the volume loud enough to drown out the machines
That fill their cupped hands daily with excrement and dreams
These are the ****** of the canon
Button-pushing, lever-pulling product users
Wife-buying, tax-paying alcohol abusers
Emasculated monkeys done up in black and white
Clock in in the morning and flock home late at night
These are the ****** of the canon
Train-conducting, ring-leading hand shakers
String-fingered, queue-cutting, man makers
Drive home, cursing, lonely, breaking bones beneath their wheels
Without the time to diagnose that emptiness they feel
These are the ****** of the canon
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
543
I fear a Man of frugal Speech—
I fear a Silent Man—
Haranguer—I can overtake—
Or Babbler—entertain—
But He who weigheth—While the Rest—
Expend their furthest pound—
Of this Man—I am wary—
I fear that He is Grand—
3.4k
Resting the mind is not easy
it dances like a sparrow
and speaks like a babbler
seeking the minutest grain
from the jungle of weeds
tweeting what it has to say
from one perch to the other
in all weather.
Then the aching wings falling slow
by the cold north wind
find no worth in the haste
seek a rest
perching upon some heart.
When unbroken silence is all it has
the mind rests easy in peace.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
408
Unit, like Death, for Whom?
True, like the Tomb,
Who tells no secret
Told to Him—
The Grave is strict—
Tickets admit
Just two—the Bearer—
And the Borne—
And seat—just One—
The Living—tell—
The Dying—but a Syllable—
The Coy Dead—None—
No Chatter—here—no tea—
So Babbler, and Bohea—stay there—
But Gravity—and Expectation—and Fear—
A tremor just, that All’s not sure.
1.4k
Incantation
Strange was the night the harvest moon would serve as the pumpkin dark foreboding grips his heart as he walked what evil brewed
There were those recurring stories they were filled with mist had a groggy affect you slipped between the calm to the terrifying
Was it true did it really happen he was set to find out he always fancied himself as an investigator one who could probe the stewed
First he must find his way into the incandescing glow there he would separate fact from fiction at the very door of Haitian voodoo
He was set to meet Papa Legba he was in the form of an old man the gate keeper to the spirits and their world nonsense or truth
An old grass shack was where he had been instructed to go he entered saw a few ceremonial items setting on a crude altar
One thing for sure this god was not rich but devilment requires not earthen wealth but the souls of it followers behold the sooth
This babbler this one who transfixes minds on moon lit nights weaves the web no one will ever escape from and why would they
Come to this foreign chasm an opening that invites ever yawning behold its misteh mysteries dare not be afraid you will be wise
Here the weak are made strong the dead assist the living feel the cold clammy hand that desires to engulf you just surrender
The candles they will bring bondje or bon diea French for good god see him coming from the water under the sea oh great one rise
Tell us your humble servant what to do to own the night never to be frightened again by any circumstance you are foresworn as victor
Get on with it face your enemies send forth the vestiges of confusion the essence of delusion they will unknowingly do your bidding
It comes like a tidal wave the power oh what sway it holds you in its dark embrace moods enliven oh how it pervades stunning
There are no bounds no end this was what you were created for rifle the world all contents of moral chains forgotten are you kidding
One small thing our agreement has a catch put forth your hand the ceremonial knife must sacrifice tonight I’m the only one here nooo
Voodoo has mystery one to die for look well into your own soul on this evil Halloween night
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Broken vows,
Sounds of bellowing cows,
No wedding bells
A broken heart tells no tales
Nonsense in my sense
Calculating emotional expenses
Excuses for a lost moment
Fragrance without a scent
A heart grieving in silence
With walls shedding tears of innocence
Rage of innocence I guess
The fight of a bleeding heart- one in rags
Naked and vulnerable like a mother less toddler
Speech turned sour- now a babbler
Blah-blah, tongue twisting tale
Hailing hot from hell
Promises fallen on thorns
Pierced to the bones
Wilted words on dry ground
Salted seeds don’t count
No harvest this summer
Extract the pain in my grammar
And it will narrate my mistakes
Mistaken for forgiveness, commitment crucified on the stakes
This is the thesis
Thesis of a broken heart
Broken into many pieces
Smudged art…
Broken vows
Sounds of bellowing cows,
No wedding bells
A broken heart tells no tales
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
I am God
I AM WHO I AM
There are none like Me
The strength of My might is immeasurable
The breadth of My knowledge unknowable
My children I protect
My followers I love
None whom I take into My hand I forsake
Selah!
Blessed are those, O Lord, who hear Your voice!
Be not absent from my mind!
But have patience and be of slow words
For Your servant, Lord, can only write haltingly
I give the dumb speech
To the blind I give sight
The deaf hear again with My touch
My children pass like breaths
But I am eternal
Speak to the God who listens
Oh merciful God, blessed be Your name!
Holy are You that takes the time to listen to my speech
My enemies are forfeit, my mockers destroyed
The God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, of Moses, of Noah
Graciously, mercifully listens to a babbler, a fool
Humble my heart O Lord
That my words might be pleasing to You
Speak
Listen to my prayer, O God
And hide Yourself not from my supplication!
Attend to me and answer me;
I am restless and distraught in my complaint
And must moan
Lord to Your servant David You would answer
Answer now my pleas, though my heart be crude and unfit
Lord do You see Your child?
He is tormented day and night by thoughts of You
Your hands molded him into being
His heart You placed in his chest and it was made to worship You
But he is attacked and harassed
Lord how he despairs so unjustly!
Deep into the mire has he sunk
He is trapped there in agony
And the prince of lies is his companion
Into his ears demons whisper day and night
Lord, do not abandon him!
You made him to love, to worship You!
His heart You love, his mind You made
What gifts You have blessed him with!
Then how now does he suffer?
Forsake me not, O Lord!
O my God, be not far from me!
Make haste to help me, O Lord! My salvation!
This heart bleeds and weeps at his suffering
In my insolence I thought it was I who could free him from his pain
But no, it is You!
Selah!
God will you crush him too?
Destroy his oppressors and free his soul
He would worship and love You God, this I swear:
These eyes have seen, these ears have heard
All is in alignment, he is made to be your most devoted follower
Let him worship You Lord, for this is right
Forgive him his tresspasses, forgive him his sins
Let him not weep in despair
As he feels Your absence and is tortured still
Are You not his savior?
Are You not his redemption, his healer?
God, Your lover, Your bride weeps to see Your abandonment
She cries to see Your glory
Her pleading will never cease
Till Your mercy is shown
And he is freed from his suffering
And back into the tender care of Your loving arms
Selah.
She will plead until You are glorified
And Your children love You as one
Hold back not Your glory
Love Your children
Forget them not in Your wrath, o Lord
May Your mercy come down like a cloud
And Your love as a rain
Amen and amen
Glory to You forever and ever, o God
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC
*Brownish grey yellow billed
Babbling beaks joyous filled
With them around silence is gone
Have never seen them coming alone.
To pep up the world sent by heaven
They forage in flock of six seven
Never they break the brotherly band
Hence seven brothers called in my land.
In my surround they sprinkle joys
Prance and dance make cheery noise
When spring comes these feathered guests
In mango tree build chaotic nests.
I love to see their mock war game
Two males fighting for winning dame
I welcome them so long they stay
Give me good times a brighter day.*
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 6:10 PM UTC
.
He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
Unit, like Death for Whom?
True, like the Tomb,
Who tells no secret
Told him-
The Grave is strict-
Tickets admit
Just two-the Bearer-
And the Borne-
And seat- Just One-
The Living- tell-
The Dying- but a Syllable
The Coy Dead-None
No chatter-here- no tea
so Babbler, and Bohea- stay there
But Gravity-and Expectation-and Fear
a tremor just, that All's not sure.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
Be true to yourself
If your poetry is true to yourself,
Then you do not need to worry about anyone else.
They will have their opinion. They are entitled to that;
But they can never take away from you, the feelings that you have.
They are yours and yours alone,
But sometimes others may have them too.
Share your thoughts with the rest of the world
And you might make a connection, where you never expected to.
Be real in the words that you choose to use,
But rule nothing out; the world is your oyster.
Do what you believe is the right thing to do;
I chose to start writing poetry
And I am trying hard to not become a babbler.
Words are not perfectly set in stone;
Language moves forward, it evolves, so say what you want.
Some will hate the fact you use the language of phones;
But others will say *** is wrong with that? OMG.
Realism is a thing we should all strive for;
Speak the truth in metaphors.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
Some dying wish
Flew from him
As he babbled with
The clink clink clink
Of coins.
Nickel tongue
Plated with all the
'How else'
And icy tang of inadequacy
What could he be
But a shaking
Taking
Babbler?
But there was something,
Some gritted tooth of a word
Biting into my ear
With all the froth and rage of
Rabid animals held on tight leads,
And that word?
Money
Money
Money
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
You’re a good friend and a great liar
Your confidence is a fickle ceasefire
You give others the benefit of the doubt
But you doubt yourself, inside and out
You can dish it, but certainly can’t take it
Mindlessly spitting words of wisdom, your latest smash hit
Words that have weight for other people
But never for you or your clan of Sheeple
You’re a blind babbler, a social shambler
Combatting the voice inside you
This incessant, never ending mind chew
It’s galloping through La-La Land
Thought after thought to beat the band
If you deserve the best, then why don’t you think you do?
You wince at every word that comes out of your mouth.
This journey that inevitably leads south
You’re the envy of everyone else. Can’t you see?
So confident, footloose and fancy free
You have great willpower in the presence of your friends.
On your own, you have none.
Some things are easier said than done
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 4:25 AM UTC
ocean waves moved,
motion with moods of the wind,
exampling emotions beneath the dust of past,
coarse sand evoked poignant presence,
like the babbler among the quiet,
quick to know but fast to forget,
crashes casually calmed,
broken forms fallen into foam,
distilling between a silent, dual partnership,
cascading hues of purple and tangerine,
a canvas painting leading into infinite of today,
blended hints tomorrow should never come,
the parent of such art,
dried streams lain below now closed eyes,
smells of the air tranquilized pain in loss…
as the fold of her memory hugged his mind.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
Do
Do.....doo.....doo-dooooo I, I, I...... have a
d
r
i
n
k....
drink....dri--nk
king.....drink....
dri-nk.....king
prob, pro-b..
lem... prob...prob... pro-blem?
......spew......
you, you, bug..bug bug---gers
why, why.... should you care? You aren't...aren't my fa---fa--father!
Officer-on-duty to subordinate: LOCK THIS BABBLER UP!
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC