"clitter" poems
Stare at the keys till the symbols blur
Till something wonderful can occur
The keys delight with every stroke
Something only typing can evoke
The clitter-clatter of the keys
Like a thousand buzzing bees
Pure flowing unadulterated phrases
Escaping my mind twisted mazes
I become unaware, detached
My mind has become unlatched
Oh it's so harmonic
So gloriously electronic
Man and machine
So flowing and clean
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
I am told that I am down to Earth
and that makes me wonder
that if we were to get onto our bellies
scouring the forest floor
would we find pieces of my personality.
Would you find my laugh
hidden amongst rabbits in their burrows,
mistaking their animal talk
for the hiccup caught in my throat laugh
that I do when I am nervous.
Would the scraping of bear claws against trees
be the clitter clatter of me rushing to brush my teeth--
the morning/midnight/everyday gust
that I have to put into each part
of my day to keep up with the world.
Would the change of seasons:
cold and determined, young and lively,
warm and strong, regrowth and understanding--
be the change of perspective I share
with each talk we have,
you come to see the seasons change
and with them you want to grow--
inside me you find the same
willingness to cherish
all the world.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Scrape scratch rusty latch close the double doors
Clitter clatter muffled natter in the corridors
Cling clang dropping pans right outside my room
needles gleaming patients screaming nurse is coming soon.
Titter tatter coughing spatter; chest pain all a heave
Needles ready hold on steady, rolling up my sleeve
Sweat like hell, sickly smell lying on the bed
Windows steaming my arm bleeding, bottle full of red.
White washed walls, distant calls, nurses all a clatter
Creaky crack stooping back, my heart a pitter patter
Squeaky wheel tapping heel, rustling nylon coats
Scribble babble noisy rabble, doctors taking notes.
Beeping stream, loud machine, a tapping all the night
People checking, doing my head-in; turning on the light
Isolation; high contagion rubber glove and mask
No hesitation, trepidation, they go about their task.
Interruption with consumption, stops you in mid-flight
Time stands still, take your pill and shiver throughout the night
With ****** tears and deathly fears, image from which I stare
don't let go, back home to Joe, to those I know who care.
The end
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
Awaken from my sleep
With a clitter and a clatter
I sprang from bed and stubbed my toe
Wondering what in the world was the matter
Racing down stairs I heard a little grunting and groaning
Coming from the fireplace
On the eve of Christmas morning
So up I looked and there he was alive and kicking
Certainly not dead
A white beard covered with dark **** and a woolly suit bright red
I said Hey ole man whats shaking
You look like your sorta stuck
He replied kinda of angrily turning crimson in the face
Why no I am having lunch
Well said me you are a little fat to be sliding down a chimney
I forgot about my stocking hanging on the mantel
And after that silly remark
I could count on it being empty
So off to the kitchen in a hurry I went
Him mad and about to boil
To fetch what I needed to get the plump fool out
Some good ole crisco oil
Well I lathered him up really well
And began to pull quite hard
In a minute or two out he popped
Still mad and breathing hard
He was sure glad to get unstuck
And asked me what I wanted for getting him out
You may not believe it but I still write a list
So I knew what his request was about
He asked me very solemnly
If throughout the year I had been good
I hemmed and hawed and weakly replied
Santa don't you think I am a little old
Give me that list he repeated
Bright cheeks all a flush
So I did what I was told without anymore argument
Him being in such a rush
He caught his breath and pulled up his red pants
Walked out the door without even a glance
The next morning I woke up laughing
What a funny strange dream
It must have been that pizza I had for dinner
Because what I had seen could never be
But upon examination
I noticed I was covered with soot and black soil
So I looked under my tree
And among the shiny wrapped presents
Was a brand new can of crisco oil
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Dec. 11, 2017.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 6:00 PM UTC
*Infectious cravings strike,
Day by day materializing,
Away from purity and humanity,
Somewhere, infatuating over labels and glamour,
Does it matter that people are dying?
Silent echoes of the wind swirl pass,
It's the shop's they are gathered around-
Where you hear only people engage and sounds of clitter clatter.*
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
O KINDLY QUEEN OF THE SILENCE
He was ten
and I was sixty.
He an all black
cat with one white spot
living all his nine lives
at once.
I( ha ha )
supposedly his master.
In truth, he
the master of me.
He, asleep now
upon my left knee..
Always the left
never the right.
Always a knee
never a lap.
His purrs
turning into snores.
Rather than disturb
such sweet slumber.
I stay still
even when the leg: cramps!
He wakes, yawns(
as) only cats can.
Nails clitter clatter
across black&white kitchen tiles.
His night just
beginning.
Mine just ending.
The cat flap
*****
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC