"chitter" poems
Sun drawing out sweat
causing clothes to fall off
Deep breaths and quiet grins
Eyes of strangers met
Shirtless against the wall
but only in the head
Standing like a scarecrow
so nothing stands out at all, oh god
Chitter chatter to cover up
But the sweat is growing thick
Better act natural
to keep from becoming the stereotypical
male ****
Keep cool, self, be slick
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:34 AM UTC
Lily pollens glow
rain of tears drops though it rained
petals glow
lily gleam and glow through it reverses time
night crickets chitter in joy
clock hand reverse twelve
midnight bell rings
willow leaves raddle like reindeer bells
pasture sound chitters and shallow
river flow down the stream fast
the wind made tree leaves raddle
so quick time stopped beneath my feet.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
It’s, “affordable housing,”
That we can’t afford
Our cries in vain
Go largely ignored
So please don’t ask us
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
If you don’t want us
To respond untoward
They show us an unaffordable
AMI
For people who barely
Are just getting by
So to call it affordable
Is a bold face lie
That try though they may
They cannot deny
We’re brought together
To plan and plot
Our community’s future
Are we not
But they won’t admit
To what’s already in place
Like a zoning change
What a disgrace
Ultimately we’re told our future’s
Up to us
And if we believe them
As they say we must
They seek our ideas
Like they really matter
But I know all that is
Is just chitter chatter
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
with bark like alligator skin
the pines reach up up to the sky
eighty one hundred feet they fly their needles
as if to say
here we are O Wondrous One
take us
do with us as You will
little shake-tail squirrels chitter above me
as if to say go away! this is our pine
you don't belong here!
I reply
I do belong here the pines have told me so
I do belong here
the wildflowers have said so
and the creek has burbled its assent as well
I belong here I repeat
I will stay here among the pines with alligatorskin bark
and the winds singing through the wood
and the creek seeking the sea
yes I will stay
and I will roll in the feeling of belonging like a dog rolls in herbage
and savor that I belong I belong here/now
at last
c. Roberta Compton Rainwater
2009/2014
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
Tick-tock
Went the clock
The day I wanted to stop.
The pitter-patter,
Chitter-chatter.
The walks,
The squaks
And the all 'important talks'
The day I wanted to stop.
Intrusion, confusion, pollution
And social 'evolution'
The day I wanted to stop.
The swearing, the caring.
The 'how are you faring?'
The day I wanted to stop.
The girl, the boy.
That unexpected smile.
Kindness flowing
Kept me going;
If only for awhile,
On the day I wanted to stop.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the blinking of frail eye.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the chitter-chatter of every tongue.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it behind the face grinning like a Cheshire cat.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the amble of every feet.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the shadow of a carcass.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the agony of every single soul.
There is a loneliness in this world so great
That you can see it in the anecdote of every man jack's life .
Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 1:56 PM UTC
I can't remember the last time I lived somewhere
that didn't have running water.
I wonder if it's actually happened.
We're moving a maximalist aesthetic
into a minimalist situation.
I just want a glass of water,
a hot shower,
a working toilet.
Ive never been so tired,
and I've never smelled so bad.
My leg are two masses of limp pain,
my hands are stiff, calloused wads of meat.
My right eye is experiencing a
mild swelling, that I'd ******* pray
isn't pink eye, if I believed in god,
which gets harder from here.
Illuminated in the dark of midnight
by computer light,
with only the tickings
of a cheap watch for condolence.
Their voices complain from downstairs.
Then laugh. Then return.
Trinkets chitter around.
Rooms full of garbage.
If you hit it softly enough,
can you still tell you're at the bottom?
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Sitting in that cafe
was like sitting atop the tower of Babel
a cacophony of language
like a hurricane was going on all around him
the homeless black men
who spoke with their own jive and jib
he knew some of the language
but was far from fluent
there were the Arabian men
talking into blue tooths on their ears
or into cellphones
or arguing with each other
outside over cigarette after endless cigarette
nothing but harsh blunt sounds,
it was beautiful in a way
and there is the Russian couple
bombshell athletic blondes
it was hard to determine whether the relationship was
Mother and Daughter
or coach and athlete
they were seemingly
all business
broken with interspersed bouts of laughter
and their were the Asian boys and girls
coming from Korea or Japan or China, or some other place
talking fast and easy
gesticulating wildly with their hands
and of course their was English
thick and arrogant in its tone
it was a language for movers and shakers
money makers and deal breakers
it sounded nowhere near as special
as the other languages
And there was him
sitting silently in the corner of the cafe
his language
the chitter chatter of the keyboard
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC
Starless, chilly an autumn night
It all started right
A dance it would be
A stranger I was
Amongst a two roosts of Latter Day Saints
Popular, I was not
Neither shy nor sociable,
I stood in wait for a suitor
Then a lad glided in
A bit taller than I, blonde hair, green eyes
And an adorable hat on his head
Chitter-chatter,
Smiles, laughter,
Then the Games began
This suitor, Gage he was called
Had speed, but not dexterity
And was soon defeated
Charming, cheering, continuing
The dancing came
Clumsy, was I ever so
While he radiated mastery
Every misstep spin on my part
Made him smile
He whispered in my ear,
In hot breaths,
Compliments of golden rarity
A suitor of suitors I see
A spectacular dance, then another...and quite a few more
Each spin drawing me closer,
As we learned the ways of our bodies purely
The intense stares making my cheeks glow rouge
Beguiled in the moment,
I followed Gage out in an innocent move
Outside, taking a walk around the sacristy
We sat upon an abandoned stair
We spoke, we laughed, and...
His sparking eyes locked with mine
And I knew such a day would come!
An elegant milestone!
Lips in incoherent shapes as we did the most ancient of things
Simple and sweet
Breathless, I was
Yet I wanted more
We kissed once again, longer this route
Your lips are sweet, he said in my ear, as I shook in delight
Paper and pen, number in hand
My phone in his hands, exchanging modern things
A quick hug
And a long night of thought for me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since then, contact has been strangled to a near death
As though it was alive beforehand
My hope has faded
But still, I choose to see it as a lesson for the wise
Not a regret for the stupid
It was magical,
It was ordinarily extraordinary,
And blessed I feel for the experience.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Dawn casts her long line for spring
Days linger to catch the angel irises bloom
Enveloped by early chirping chitter-chatter
Lightly crusted sleep argues for lids to remain closed
Black perking wake-me oil makes a strong cups case for compromise
A nudge to join the living
- On negotiated terms -
Somewhere between another dream and lavender bubbles
The contract will begin
Foggy feet shuffle onto the wheel
Spying steps creak tattle-tale floorboards alerting all on the way
Pleading thoughtfulness
You beg for silence as the Ra room comes into view
Brightly checkered yellow-brown mustard window patterns
Cut diagonal boxes across maple hardwood
Stained glass dots of emerald, violet, and red raspberry
Dance on lemon washed walls as they turn and wink for a smile
Your morning chair sets at the edge of the warming sun pond inviting you
Join them
You listen to the ripples of space
Your cushioned dock perfectly positioned for a loving embrace
You sit
And slowly dip legs into the glowing pool
Drenched limbs cocoon in the heavy webbing of golden rays
Bathing
The chickadees celebration is known
Immersed
Lids succumb to the orange haze
The Girl from Ipanema sings
Young and lovely
You feel wonderful
No risk of drowning here...
Only in happiness
One radiating breath
Before the Samba plays again
© 2019 MJL
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
You didn't tell me we'd be listening
to music when I picked up the phone.
Your dulcet tones danced through my velvet
head and perched upon the crescent
moon that was my lips.
You could see my body drifting away,
so you took my hand and saw that I moved
in time with you, sailing upon the song
that jumped over a telephone line.
In awe, my tongue was pinched,
my ears became a playing field for
all the ***** you had to bat.
Birds began to sing in the early hours
as we put away the chitter chatter
But it didn't stop my phone from
glowing
me from glowing,
you from lighting up.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 5:45 AM UTC
_the chitter chatter,_
_of the day,_
_are conversations of-_
_sun and rain,_
_that greeted the ground of,_
_this splendid rainy day._
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 11:25 AM UTC
*Chitter , chatter chirrup
Three birds of a feather
A friendly chummy posy -
in perfect morning tide pleasure
Trilling , thrilling , touring Thrush's in the noon palmettos
Chiming sweet refrains in the -
broomcorn meadow
Musky , dusky weary
Gold songsters in a bush
A huckleberry trio in the-
nighttime hush*
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
where are you when i need you most?
when the day has reached it's twilight
and the bitter night creeps through my house.
the pitter-patter of little feet has become
the stimpy-stomping of little monsters.
the chitter-chatter of nig-nig-nagging
is constant in my ear.
oh, heineken, heineken, heineken.
were you but a woman, i would flee this world
and steal you away as paris took helen.
we would spend day and night in each other's embrace.
i would sing praises and songs in your honor
and the world would stand back and marvel
at the love between us.
but, you are not a woman, but still i long for
the feel of your firmness in my hand,
your wondrous good taste chasing worry away.
i would drink you and all of your companions
and dance/prance/stumble to the bathroom
as if in heaven.
the pitter-patter would turn to clinking of bottles.
the chitter-chatter would turn to clicking of caps.
but alas, i am merely dreaming and sober.
and tonight you are in the hands of another.
tomorrow, i will venture and seek you out.
oh heineken, you will soon be mine.
mine all mine, the world will tremble with my
drunken laughter.
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
They call me bohemian,
a lost intellectual
hidden with no ambition
A happy go lucky,
who hops and hits
like a river flowing downhill
A philosophical dreamer
with subjective absolutions
unrealistic surreal expectations
They see my eccentric fashion
the chic grease of mismatch
A happenstance of my day's mood
My mind is indigenous
My soul is gender fluid
A vessel of masculinity and femininity
One day, it's a skirt and blouse
The next is a bow tie and shirt
The other is a blend of two
A maverick in a world alone
I felt it all my life, the lack of connection
No motions with the convectional
Their whispers cannot be heard
I am done with biting my nails
Let them pull their hair with their noise
Their chitter and chatter complaints
As I gaze and talk to the floor
weary of their mediocre complaints
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
The hub bub of the local pub,
The endless chitter chatter of pointless conversations,
The no point small talk of weather and how do yous do's,
The noise of comfort and solace,
The shield of silence,
The comfort of anonymity,
This is England,
This is the pub.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
Barely do my Wednesdays fill with longing,
Lost observers rendering August whims to the scrapheap of infinity,
Galvanized entities downing tools schematically,
A posse of awareness pronating towards incandescent light,
Mostly everything a prolonging of jest and belly laughs,
Dawn brings the sick belly of listlessness,
Hordes of happenchance and imaginers of silence dancing,
The chitter chatter cadence does dim for a minute stretching yonde
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
wind in the willows and the hollow tree's maw
the howl and the moan, chattered whippoorwill song
golden leaves crumble into golden leaf dust
withered willow creaks and sways however it may,
dancing to demented beat from perverse piper's pipe.
The moon is gone hiding not present on stage
of this eerie queer setting in this most uncanny scene
hark, come in the calling owls
sing harsh the shadow come by bleating of night's drum
a hit come dark, a hit pitch shadow cast on the land.
Owls call who, call who to none there
crickets screech a symphony with wicked leg's sliding
horned incessant toads boom tenor through the night.
Come twilight, come dawn
the moon is chased from clouds to the horizon it returns.
come 'gain the whippoorwills with strange and deviant song
come now the shady crows to join and gibe along.
When light comes now through purple veil of dark and mal' cast
cascades the sun through horrid mask; the sky a great cloud
a swirling pool, a terrific mass, a great storm of poison,
can't run for fear for end is near
solace in light is naught,there is no savior from the tempest.
The night was prologue enough, now day will be pure no longer
the nymph of sun ***** in taint of wicked shadow's hand
now alone evil and mal' shall stand.
So come the crows, come the raven
sing a devil's tune with the chitter of the chattering birds
sway now the willow, howl the wind and moan along
laugh the maws gaped of the trees
whirl the wind, wither and crumble the plants; now gone.
dance and sing and cry as one, symphony
symphony fade to whisper... whisper fade to dust...
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 12:25 AM UTC
A Poem for June
Just why a cucumber should be so cool
Eludes the logical; a cucumber’s just
A vegetable a-lying on the ground
Awaiting consumption. But let’s accept
This vegetarian cliché’ simply
To get on with this cool descriptive task:
Whatever’s cool in the falling June sun
Descends through oak leaves, dark and summer green
And dancing down the air falls happily
Upon this cool cucumber cave where sits
Upon a wooden bench a lazy man
Who should be taking now another turn
With lawnmower, shovel, or shears against
The wild greenness of happy midsummer.
But, oh! Persephone surely won’t mind
If her allotted garden tasks are paused
By her appointed minion rustic who
Takes now his ease in her delightful shade.
For summer after all is more than work;
She calls for dozing too, and dreamily
Watching busy bees buzz among the flowers,
Like fussy matchmakers arranging marriages,
And hummingbirds humming in and out of leaves,
Their sanctuary leaves, to argue at
The nectar-feeders, as if there weren’t
Enough for all. The squirrels in the trees
Would never condescend to chitter there;
They glare at humans disapprovingly,
Like old teachers unhappily aware
That, oh, somewhere, somehow a child might be
Enjoying life, and that would never do!
Even the ribbon of smoke from the morning’s
Trimmings and cuttings and sawings appears
To be taking a nap in the summer noon,
There gently snoring up wisps of ashes
Instead of roaring, hissing manfully
As it did in the early hours.
The bench
Along the fence where the tired old man sits
Creaks as he shifts his weight, and watches
His backyard world doze in the leaf-laced sun;
He lights a well-deserved cigar, and sees
Its soothing smoke join with the ******* fire
Ascending heavenward with peaceful thoughts.
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
I wish,
I was a squirrel,
I'd make people hurl,
Get that girl,
I'd go the distance,
To find resistance,
I'd chitter and chatter,
Yell it's my planet too,
Control my own fate,
I'd muster up irons,
And fire those nuts,
Count up the squad,
Workout the Quads,
I'd be the biggest,
Baddest ***
The other squirrels,
Would come churl,
At my fine witness,
My pretty fitness,
With giant fluff tale,
And nest fit for the stars,
I'd be a royal pain,
For my own gain,
I'd show them hows its done,
How things are meant to run,
A mental score,
The acres of treedom,
Scream out my freedom,
At home in the forest,
****** ******
Bitter end,
Revenge on the mend,
The master of my own den,
I'm a nut,
I'm a squirrel,
I'm a tree,
I'm me,
Nature's finest,
Mother's creation,
Father's Love.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 1:19 PM UTC
Hushed whisper through
sylvan leaves
Cast swift through brook
past hoary fur
and chitter-chatter claws
Blue Jay names it
to the sky:
'Trouble! Trouble! Trouble!'
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 6:41 AM UTC
All at once.
Chitter chatter
Jabber.
Pointless banter.
Back and forth
Words pour out from lips,
Hang in the air
and resonate a bit.
Then fade away
become forgotten.
But for some they stay.
Shaping, molding
Minds are holding
On.
To the two dimensional
Too much, Too soon.
Two words are seeds
and assumptions root.
Grows the confusion,
Constructed reality
Confused consciousness of
this time, moment, universe.
I cannot write this poem here.
The future
Is now
Is past.
So when?
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
Fire crackles as I take my tea
–2 creams 3 sugars
The heavy drops of summer rain
Fall to the parched earth out the window,
A symphony on aged tin roofs
I let out a contented sigh
My movement inspiring a small chitter
My furry companion curls tighter
To The the alabaster skin of my hip
At peace once more.
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
Hands that hold to speak
quiver in this moonlight
awaiting slipping moments peak
to cry to the heart
Trembling its darkened dawns
dusting away at the pieces
of myself that have been
left to the wind.
Emptied caskets
fill the spaces of
energetic flesh
on my breast
Gashed and still
in this wippity whimperous moment.
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me when I make silent calls between two worlds,
Do you hear my voice calling to you?
Then gapes a girl curious to explore the world
"I think I hear you" she says,
all the while raising an ear to snippits.
I,
I just want to love you so, so deeply
I want to cleanse you
I want to make you shine with a radience like sunlight
liquid dancing flickers on flowing river songs
creek beds of bliss
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you, you , you, you, you hear me?
I´m pleading to that smile
hidden by mental chitter chatter
hop off the train, empty off your platter
of burdenous fruits
release all of that matter
Do you hear me?
Hey darling, moon belly seastar
dancer
I see you
I love you
I am you
Do you hear my long echoing cries for freedom?
Do you hear my gentle sighs,
gateways to divine skies
Do you hear me?
A drop of arms
A rising breath
an emptied teth
"I hear you¨" she says,
"I hear you, I hear you, I hear you!!"
her voice roars on
"I hear you, I am you"
Wild ravonous wails
I hear your nightingale calls,
I hear the ups and downs as heartbeat falls,
I hear rambling nectar
rollin smoothly off our soul
I hear a lovebirds
sonnet roll
Oh mother, oh Great on in Me in You in We,
I hear you, I hear you, I hear you,
I hear you
and I´m ready to listen.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC