"buble" poems
Eat the fourth cookie.
Bring back that fuzzy green sweater with lint ***** so stubborn
that even the strongest lint roller couldn’t break the bond they have with the sweater.
I know you pick your nose in public.
You stutter every time I ask who lives on Mamaroneck Street.
You have burping contests with yourself while you’re on the toilet.
I don’t care how you clip your toenails on today’s newspaper.
I still read it after you’re done.
I love that you paint each nail in a different neon color,
eat chocolate chips and green tea for breakfast,
and salt your apples.
You cry every time you watch Titanic.
I agree Rose should’ve moved to the side and shared the plank with Jack.
You rap to Baby Got Back fifty nine times in a row.
I wish we danced to it more often.
I wish you would tell me what you write in your red book.
I know you pretend you’re Beyonce in concert while working out,
and think Michael Buble wrote haven’t met you yet for you.
I love that you keep the ticket stubs from every single movie we see in the tea jar under your bed.
You smell of cologne every time you walk into the house.
You don’t know how to whisper. You never have.
You tell me you’ll be back by noon but don’t come back till 7 p.m.
You use your knitting needles as chopsticks when we order sushi,
And don’t stamp any of the letters you send your mom.
Even though you have seven wallets, you keep all your money loose in your bag
and throw away all the pennies in the trash.
You pretend your belly-fat is a puppet that can talk and sing,
And you flirt with the waiter for extra hot sauce.
You hate it when I use your cell-phone
And every night you kiss him goodnight at the train station.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
How we’d dance in our little room
to the tunes of Sinatra and Buble
Your feet on top of mine
As we swayed side to side
I loved our special dance
We knew not of this art
but we danced with freedom
and moved by chance
Andrus
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 3:51 PM UTC
I can’t apologize enough for your situation
Hillary Swank is definitely not one of my favorite actors.
Michael Buble hasn’t met you yet apparently either
River can’t wait for you to get home and neither can I
Does it get tiring reading poems about you?
Can’t help it, but I’ll try my hardest dear
If you were a Jedi, your lightsaber would be green
One O’ Clock isn’t my best time
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
S3
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
Somewhere in my body,
A bifurcated clock ticks,
Two clock faces,
White on black,
Vice versa.
Mixed media messages,
Crazy train station internal,
Brain activity fevered,
Arrive/depart according to
Somebody else's schedule,
Somebody else occupying,
Every street of my body
Lying asleep,
Typing these words,
It is the middle of the night,
Bright daylight suffuses the room
What part of my metaphysical schema,
Ain't jet lagged legally,
And poetically entitled to be
Stockholm Syndrome Confused?
Times have really changed,
Oh my, when you propose,
Let's go to Stockholm,
Anything goes!
So my schedule reordered
In the land of either all
Light or Dark, twenty hours four,
I turn to my boon companion,
Who soothes at any hour,
My music, my Nano,
And I find myself, musically,
Shuffling in Stockholm.
Meatloaf and Piazzolla,
Muddy Waters and Purple Rain,
Marvin Gaye and Pink Martini,
Beethoven, Straight No Chaser,
Beatles, Stones, Bennett vs. Buble,
The lack of sleep a permanent fixture,
Courtesy of this Bach-us admixture,
So should you see a gappy, khaki, clad tourist,
Meandering o'er the islands of this charming city,
In Ingmar Bergman fashion,
Black and white erratic,
Alternating, swaying and shuffling,
No tongue clucking,
Nah, he's not drunken,
Just dancing while sight seeing,
In a sleep deprived manner,
Someday a movie to be,
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
A/K/A
S3
June 30 ~ July 2, 2012
Stockholm, Sweden
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
What exactly would you get
if writers changed the things they wrote
If painters changed their style
And singers butchered every note
Romance books by Stephen King
Horrors told by Suess
Comedic plays by E.A. Poe
And **** by Mother Goose
Dali paints like Monet
Monet paints like Degas
Van gogh would hang his brushes up
And go and detail cars
Michael Buble singing screamo
Operatic stuff by ****
Yoko Ono would seem right in tune
It's enough to make one sick
I hope it never happens
It would change things quite a lot
But you know, I think that **** by
Mother Goose could be quite hot!
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
I'm having a Jazz Affair, I'm sorry to admit.
Michael Buble has a voice, a sound full of grit.
that makes even me, sound and strong,
think to myself "I might be wrong."
I'm having a Jazz Affair, my love it's true.
Even though I will always love you.
The sound of swing and Tony Bennett,
gets me so I almost forget it.
I'm having a Jazz Affair, but you'll always have my heart.
It's sad but true, Jazz is an art.
Some music is faster and more compelling,
but Jazz just keeps on singing, and loving and telling.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
No Matter The Floor You Pass Out On
I awake as any other madman slash poet.
Apon the floor naked pizza box for pillow a members only jacket for a blanket.
yes the libary sure has changed over the years.
less and less people were reading buggets were cut meaning
libraryies were under staffed and rarely did anyone dare venture into
the stacks and thank good for that. Cause being i preffered free sleeping
it was probaly for the best.
but no matter the the floor you pass out on most all fine
american men wake up with are god given birth rite.
That which after a trip to the restroom like
that early morning madness that was christmas pressent openning
was over way to fast and was kinda disapointing.
Floors werent the best beds in the world in fact they
****** altogather but drinking and common sense dont even
belong in the same room togather.
Portsmouth Va was a strange world indeed a place where upscale colided with skidrow.
Me I preffer the company of a outdoor sleeper to that of a
spoiled spoon fed yuppie ****
the art school cranked out angst ridden buble people by the second.
They walked the street soaking in the pain of life.
there heads stuck so far up there ***** I always felt compeled to trip them as they walked by.
acting as though they were outsiders yerning to be mainstream
they'd **** there mothers on a mtv reality show as dad cried in the background.
Just for a taste of stardom.
True talent who needs that?
but no matter the floor you pass out on one
thing was clear.
In a world were you could have a bus load
of kids and get paid for it.
fame wasnt such a rare thing anymore.
The floor I passed out on was cold and cruel but surrounded
voices from the past.
the floor these hollow reallity show bottom feeders
passed out on. Had to besoft as there heads.
Otherwise there brains would splatter across the floor.
And some TV exect would have a brainstorm to have a show
were washed up celebrities would have a contest.
To see who could bore us the most with there sob story
Yes friends id rather have a pizza box for a pillow
than a reality show pillbox for a brain.
and the truth effectsus all form no matter
which floor so you do choose to pass out on.
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 7:12 AM UTC
Large red pillows on a warm blanket in front of the fire.
Candles all around
-Michael Buble to set mood.
And you,
my 1950s movie star smiling coyly,
expectation hidden behind you brown satin kimino.
Dec 9, 2009
Dec 9, 2009 at 6:47 AM UTC
Tomorrow is a new day
It will be fine I promise let's pray
Look at the blue sky, then close your beautiful eye
Imagine us inside a buble
Facing this world fighting our troubles
I will tell you I love you cuz you just made my day And You will tell me you love me cuz you were born on February
In that month of a Valantains Day ❤️❤️
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
I dont mean to cause commotion as I am pouring on you of my waves of emotions flooding your ear's gates like the ocean. Overflowin. But You cast a spell me with your Love potion. You became the only thing running thru my brain in slow motion.
I could see your face, your dimples, your smile, and even the hear tone in your voice with each and every word you had softly spoken.
I was a Good book that you left wide open.
You left me there with my soul exposed and others to come by and touch my word with their ***** hands as they were groping.
You weren't the person I was hoping.
I was claiming you but you were naming me because I wasn't the one you have chosen. So I sat there in the dark, forced to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart you left broken. And my own self pitty was as a buble bath in which my crush bones was soaking.
And there I sat with the bottle from you love potion overdosin.
All it was was an Over do in sin From the beginning, because I knew my love for you was never gonna win. it was her, her and her, oh yeah all the rest of em. I guess I wasn't enough for you because I wasn't one of "Them". So my question is why didnt you just leave me in they zone where I could of just stayed your friend. I thought you were different from the other men. Now I'm sitting here wishing I never would have pressed that little green button on my phone that said, "send". Because you I couldn't seem to get you of my System, Man I was strugglin. My heart was not meant to be stressed out like a tree blowing in the wind.
However you forgot to realize that I am resilient, I don't break, I bend. So I must Say thank for the Inspiration. Cause now instead of running after you it will be my dreams I'll be chasin
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
Wish that I lived in a bubble.
Not a Buble (BUBLAY) ,
Yes a bubble.
If I lived in a bubble I'd rock and I'd roll while dancing on air.
Spectral colours while children look into me.
My troubles be locked in my bubble.
For no one but but children to see.
I'd be freer than a bird in mind.
I'm off to work.
My bubble burst.
(c)LIVVI
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
Create a playlist of your favourite soothing numbers.Dim the lights of your room.Lie down on the bed.Close your eyes.Blank your mind.Forget about the day.Put your earphones on and start listening to the music.Slowly take it all in.As the music takes over your mind,body and soul...bit by bit,layer by layer,song by song...you will have completely surrendered yourself to this powerful hypnotic effect of the music.You will experience optimum relaxation.Let go of all the negativity residing within you.Now just travel through the timeline of your memory and try and visualize the face of that one person whose face you always wanna keep seeing...think of some of the best moments you've had so far with this person.By the time the process ends you will feel this incredible sense of calmness within you.You have never felt so relaxed.After this you will one of the best sleeps you have ever had.
Music has the power to calm your restless soul and heal your aching heart.Do this process every once in a while.
My personal recommendation of songs:-
1)Classical Ave Maria-Maria Callas & Mozart
2)If you go away-Shirley Bassey
3)At last-Etta James
4)Clocks-Coldplay
5)Fragile-Sting
6)Beautiful smile-Dj Sammy
7)Electrical Storm-U2
8)No ordinary love-Sade
9)Come undone-Duran Duran
10)Riders on the storm-The Doors
11)Any John Denver track
12)Any Don Mc Lean track
13)Any Michael Buble track
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
I don't talk I write
because I'm afraid to fight
not fighting as in 1 on 1
I think thats really fun
I mean fight the tears
fight the growing fears
fight who i don't want to be
fight the weaker and scared me
I write all down
to keep away the frown
i don't think I'll ever change
but i don't think its strange
i don't dare go near the hurtle my path
for fear of its crippling wrath
I'll just stay in my buble and hide
I think it's safe and cozy inside
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
I stared at the poster on the wall
With the speaker to my ear
And one solitary tear running sideways down my cheek
Michael Buble sings of being away
And I don't understand
How it can explain us
When you ran
Away from us
You need time but, I miss you, you know
Let me go home
How can I believe
Lyrics that help relay
Maybe words that you can't say
When I still feel all alone.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC