"gabbing" poems
My dress, my dress
Girls gabbing about Prom
The almighty Prom
It's all any of you talk about
December to May
What dress to buy
What hair to have
But all I can think about is him
And how I'd love
To have our own
Prom, a private prom
And just be with him
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Prom Time ~ Past...
What an exciting time it was.
High School Prom...
It seems like we girls were
More excited over this dance
Then those boys....
Mom i need a dress,
So mom would make me a dress.
New fancy earrings...
An evening made special
For a Cinderella... oh we girls
Were all in a make believe
Cinderella daze...in 1958
Curfew 12a.m. don't be late
Prom Time ~ Present...
My grandson was ask to prom
By a girl who baked him cupcakes
That spelled out PROM?
Very creative, who wouldn't
Except that invitation....
Limo picking them up,
Off to a restaurant,
Followed by dancing and gabbing,
And the after prom....
All night long, chaperones, snacks, games.
Curfew ~ morning ... don't be late... 2014
The Prom was and is what you make it...A MEMORY
by ~ judy
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
I'm still not understanding how just 365 days ago things were so much better in life and how just 365 days ago we were proclaiming our love and you promised to stay but now it's 365 days later and I'm laying on a bench in the local park at 5am with a bottle swinging in the air controlled by my hand and that friend who you wanted to protect me from is sitting right beside me gabbing on and on about how life isn't very different from last and all I can think about is yes it is for me.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Madame Salamander
With her small, speckled spots
Spread smoothly over her
Skin, similar to the sun.
Tiny toes tip tapping long treks
Through tough terrain.
Madame Salamander
Grand and glamorous, great gales
Of green-eyed ganders give her
Gosh awful grabs as gifts, gabbing
Gleefully of gross gourds.
Madame Salamander
Feel her filmy eyes on her
Flat facade furrow into a feverish
Gaze as her words fan further
And farther whilst she fabulates.
Madame Salamander
Let her linger on her long legend
Of little lizards lipping to large
Lions and licked away from
Their lovely lives as lizards.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
All the pretty birds
perched on leafy branches
chirp to the waking morning,
“I am here. Where are you?
I am here. Where are you?
I am here. Where are you?
I am here. Where are you?”
And the puppy dogs
all starve for something
While the cats of fortune
laze about the alleyways.
But the pretty birds
all the morning long,
“I am here. Where are you?”
The tardy businessmen
and their non-fat lattes
squirm in BMWs,
Honking at traffic
with the most colorful swears,
“I am here! I am here!
I am here! I am mad! I am here!”
High-octane housewives
power walk the parks,
Gabbing. And the old folks
tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks,
Mumble to long gone loved ones,
“Where are you? Where are you?
Where am I? Where are you?”
But those ****** birds-
Those pretty, ****** little birds-
They have it figured out.
They know the secrets
to Happiness:
‘I am here.
Where are you?’
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 4:27 AM UTC
the candy cane sign
is gray with frost
its spiraled dance
stopped years before
the old man died
he, the emperor of hair,
meant to get it repaired
like all good intentions
and the clipped hair
that got swept away
day by day,
hour by hour,
minute by
m o m e n t o u s
m o n o t o n o u s
minute
the cutting,
the sweeping
punctuated by
the clang of the register
the hardy laugh at a racial joke
the passing of a borrowed smoke
and the buzzing silences
in between
when I would watch and wonder
what spell he was under
in his royal white regalia
chopping and chatting away
(at eyeless and earless heads I thought)
until I would sit in his chair
and escape the gulag of my life
with his ponderous questions
about
feather light skies
heavyweight jabbing
the “old lady gabbing”
the engine
in my “shrimp nip” car
and how very far
I would go
when I rose from his
leather and chrome throne
and once again be on my own
with hair a bit shorter
and life a bit neater
for a minuscule dot in time
I would not even remember
when I thought of his implacable place
in the cold past
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
On the wall
A dark shadow
Pulsating
Something falling
From your ghostly silhouette
There what is that shape
I have never thought
Something could look so disgusting
Something could be this broken
Yet there on the wall
Light shining upon you
Just a silhouette remains
What are you
Are you alive
Are you dying
Have you gotten drunk off love
Have you sniffed the powdered lines
Of passionate poison romance
Knives in and out repeatedly being stabbed
Needles to sow the gabbing wholes
Making room for the new ones
Oh ****
You're a heart
A silhouette heart
Is this all that is left of you
No actual body
No existence
**** it you're my heart
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
Take all your taxes and see if you aren't able to get more done with them
Then those that represent you.
Do those that do, really represent you
Or do they resent you?
And secretly tread with scorn?
If you truly want change, seek an office
Grab a gavel
Do your part
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
We'll meet at your place - my place this year
Our universe
Where are you?
I'll wait to night
Wait tomorrow
Wait until our universe is only mine
Alone, only me
In my own empty shall, to fill the emptiness
But I'll wait
Laying under the blanket
That stubbornly refuses to get warmth
Like it is reminding me of your absents
Looking out in to the night
Black emptiness fills my dreams
Dream of dreaming dreams of you
Nightmare
Where are you?
I know you will disappoint me
Leaving me alone in the dark
Filling the gabbing cliff with empty promises
Eyes staring form the other side
Hopes that are crushed jet again
WHERE ARE YOU?
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
To the little boy in the diner,
I’m sure you didn’t notice me, I barely took note of you
but your clear, childish voice traveled
it reached my booth and seized my ears.
You were gabbing on to your parents
(who were more mindful to your stains than your words)
about all the things you want to be when you grow up.
A teacher, a veterinarian, a doctor, a policeman.
Your naive string made me smile, until the commentation flew.
“You don’t want to do that,” the parents promised.
“You’ll change your mind and give up.”
And you were quiet, but I’m sure you shrugged it off
because that’s what children do.
I am still a child, not too much older than you,
but I can’t shrug off people’s doubts of my dreams like you.
Somewhere along my journey towards adulthood
I began to accept that my dreams are unreachable.
Our whole, young lives we’re told to reach for the stars
but gradually we will be told to lower those stars
until they’re within arm’s reach.
Parents like yours and mine will say our goals should be practical
and with our current lifelong dreams we won’t amount to much.
Uncreative adults like this will instill the dull principle in some,
but I hope not you, and I hope not me.
Everyone has to be someone doing something
so why not try for the stars a million miles away?
I want to look up one day and see
those far off stars are dangling just above my head.
And as for you, little boy in the diner,
I hope you do what you want.
Speak words people will hear across nations,
or whisper melodies for only those you treasure to receive.
Perform actions that millions of people will be touched by,
or be one person’s superhero to lift them off the ground.
I hope you go back to that diner someday,
accompanied by your aging parents.
I hope you tell them that you’re successful
I hope you tell them that you're happy.
Sincerely,
the girl in the diner
P.S. I hope you prove them all wrong.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
I saw it through the breakage on the pane
Through the cleavage on the drapes
From the back window I saw it
A man has never been this low I promise
You are the architect of your choices
You are a sum of your choices
I remember the boom
I remember the bass
The Shads of glass
She closed her eyes
She wished it pass
Anywhere but here
He grabbed her hand
She screamed and cried
He pushed her to the ground not a sound with his finger on his lips
As he proceeds gabbing her hips
She tries to push him off
But he was too strong
Just like her dad they were brothers afterall
But I said to myself
It ain't a nothing that a baseball bat or golf club couldn't solve
I ram on the door with my shoulder
I heard her cry out to God to save her
But he didn't answer
Something about free will as usual
He ripped her *******
He Unzipped his pants
Every ****** peaked a scream with his hand on her mouth
Until she became numb to it her resistance faded out...
She lied there like a piece of meat
Motionless not even a blink
And every tear that drifted to her chin from her eyes
Slitted a vein and artery in my heart
She was only 13, couldn't comprehend what had happened to her
Your honor
He was drunk, one too many bourbon
He's a man, ultimately human
You know how men are
Boys will be boyz
It's her fault for being drop dead gorgeous
Way too presumptuous
Not taking precautions
Too kind, too friendly, too nice
When those eyes that outshine the stars
Looked at him!
They were asking for it.
A beautiful suicide to an ugly life
A tender touch to a hurtful bruise
Am sorry I couldn't breakthrough the metaphorical glass door to you
Am sorry for what I did to you.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Gabbing about my day and talking
about life has never been our thing,
has it?
Forced conversations is the essence
of our relationship. Being in your presence
makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
My neck tenses, only thinking
about it.
I thought these things came fully equipped,
instinctual bonds. But all you do
when you are near, is disrupt.
You are a rotten human being,
so I'm done causing a fit.
I have accepted that we will never
get along. And no, this isn't one of those
teenager things.
It has been like this as long
as I can remember.
You lost me as a daughter,
and as a friend,
long ago.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
Across the room I watch you from afar
So much to see, so much to admire
I can only gawk in awe:
Shimmering softly beneath the party
lights
Delicate as fine porcelain, elegant just
like a China doll
Little Perky ! diminutive little button
of a nose
A sublime protuberance, with a
wonderful angular symmetry;
Like a beautiful ballerina in the centre
of the face
One lonely Cinderella, forever
overlooked and unsung
Neglected, passed over, the great
unmentioned one;
So still and so quiet, mysterious like a
question mark -
"Little Perky, don't you fret, I! Me!
I'll be your poet though a poor poet I
be
I'll hold up your charms for the whole
wide world to see,
I'll be your dashing Prince too, if you
let me".
Finely chiselled, exquisitely sculpted
Better than any Michaelangelo
And I love the little wiggle;
How silently you sit there and how
patient, enduring all
Stuck between the two drama Queens
Eyes all painted up, that flit and dart
Twinkling and fluttering outrageously
like their a class apart,
And a rouged up Mouth's sulky lips,
burning rubber
Busy gabbing away, running off like a
wild piano;
But then there's you Little Perky,
simplicity itself
Shy bulbous beauty, a throwback to
childhoods innocent days:
Like the others, you play the game
You go along but it's not the same,
See you sniff into your little hankie
And know that beneath, you're
probably not all that happy,
You seem to say (to me at least)
" I hoped for more, I dreamt - I dreamt
of other things
And other nights than these".
I see you Little Perky, I see you all
alone in your lonely prison cell
I hear your sniffles, your silent sobs
and sighs.
When pinned in the corner and
assailed from all sides
My eyes, they secretly run to your
quiet hill, that lonely mountain,
Like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights
I'll wait for you Little One
I'll wait for you there..... my Cathy
(O! lovely wild and spirited Cathy)
I'll wait for you through the wind, the
rain and the snow
I'll wait for you to come
I'll wait for the real 'You' to show,
Beyond all the bravado and the big
bluster notes
Beyond the crowds constraining looks
I'll wait for you, my Love,
We'll laugh again, and dance beneath
the stars
We'll live the dreams that once we had.
Little Perky, sweet alarm bell of the
soul, shiny little bugle that gleams
Go on now, give it one more blow
One huge giant elephantine blast
That'll sweep them all away
And leave only you and me here,
alone at last
Facing each other across this floor
O! Little Perky, my Cinderella, my
Cathy.......my Heart!
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 6:27 PM UTC
*Her metaphysical elephant
drips in blueberry-orange watercolors.
It watches us share a glorious
evening with star compadres
gabbing about healing thoughts & solutions,
as the rain gently whispers and drips outside.
This is our continued celebration of the summer solstice
dances and twirls like gyrating hips
humming Native American sounds
outside with the same Moonrise Star-children.
The previous morning began with a twisting journey
unto & into our golden selves,
vibrating hysterically in the foamy
fig beaches.
Days prior, on the solstice eve evening
we drank & spoke
in an intimate swamp faye bar
with a Neil Young cover band on hand
to embrace our cosmic gypsy heritage.*
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
your hiatus
from me
cut off the lights
and read in the dark
whatever it is that you need to
its clear
that i distract you
you get nothing done
whenever im around you gabbing
im itching
clawing my skin
getting you from under
easier said than could be done
comfort yet
just knowing it
we still read minds
youre listening from hours away
still though
you need plugs
to protect your ears
because these thoughts arent quiet
im screaming
with the electricity
firing between each synapse
and it shows through where i pace
soon though
certain of that
counting down the days
when i trade combat boots for bare foot
call soon
or write even
anything beats all this
writhing and pulling out my greys
i have even considered breaking poetic structure to tell you
that im waiting just by the phone for your ring tone
i promise to stop biting the nails to the quick
just when you give me that jingle or note
swear ill stop writing anxious poems
stop calling you every single 3 AM
cease to leave our song on loop
chase out all my cars dust
shave my whiskers
eat every meal
drink nothing
bathe nightly
dr. artist
me
im not done
but ill stop
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Even more so than us
our stomachs are in love
and long after we're asleep
our tummies are still up
gabbing in gurgles
with voices acidic
pronounced with chemicals
that we cannot mimic
I wonder what they talk about
in whisper-burps and gurgle-shouts
Maybe about current events?
Perhaps of snacks and condiments?
But when we wake, they separate
and then must be content, and wait
For the next magic evening
And another night of speaking
So it's up to you and me
to keep them in close proximity
Our love is not just me and you
but between our tummies, too
So let's sleep like spoons
bent together, tight
so our tummies can banter
through every night
and talk about everything
while our lungs breathe each other in
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
A bottle in hand
get tossed to sea
floating with the currents
taken to the ocean by a breeze
in the bottle something awakens
hands touch the glass
little eyes open
to find she's trapped
screaming out loud
only whispers enter the air
where is she going
as the ocean can take her anywhere
as the night dawns upon
the ocean waves stand still
A phoenix comes down
gabbing the bottle
again taking flight
little girl closes her eyes in fright
As the Phoenix places the bottle down
looking at each other threw the glass
with one ****** of the Phoenix's beak
the bottle shatters the girl is free
tears in her eyes she looks
before jumping into the phoenix arms
a burst of light brightens
both of them are gone
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
Halloween, nineteen seventy six,
My friend and I were prowling.
The holiday spirit was strong
It was powerful and howling.
We were visiting friends,
Both is and mine that night,
We saw some wondrous things
House to house that night.
One house was amazing;
A Los Feliz mansion.
It was glorious, a jewel
Both high, wide and handsome.
Inside, a silent movie ran
From foyer to the third floor.
And every room of the house
Was a delight to see and explore.
The next house was a study
Of **** smoking and chat.
We intended to stay awhile
We saw nothing wrong with that.
And, as we plowed through
The crowd ebbed and waned.
I giggle as we tried our best
To maintain the footing we gained.
Then, from the gabbing throng,
A face of a handsome guy
Came out and apparently he
Decided to give kissing me a try.
He pulled me close and it worked,
He planted on me a warm kiss.
He was aiming for my lips and
He aimed he scored, didn’t miss.
The thing that made it memorable
Was that it was a perfect kiss.
I remember thinking to myself
“It’s been years since a kiss like this.”
In a night of traditional revelry
And simulated comic danger
I got the best Halloween kiss ever
And it came from a total stranger.
I never saw him again or since
As he melted back into the crowd.
They were all talking and shouting
So no good shouting out loud.
I just had to accept this hot gift
And go on with my holiday journey.
But that was a most wonderful kiss
And it lives today in my memory.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
came thee by thee came
a posthumous day
(the fold most grand and eloquent
the lancing fragrance)
i,m uncareful lucid cadaver
of sensible powder
crimped finely
so in the clarity of feverish dawn i drew and bent the notch
a shady dappled riot
where i wait for some madly gabbing burst
of wet unkempt
S
P
R
I
n
g .
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 12:50 PM UTC
a glum thickly dolloping gray today to day i say this day i say today today
(a lip is twice as thick when knuckles tumble rumble numbly bumble
over pearled lengths of ivory smearing in his gobbing gabbing moral oral
silence bruising orifice)
in class
listening shortly
to hard and bitter wafts
arrogant and nimbly shoveled
"he was 20lbs heavier than me"
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 11:50 PM UTC
Four friends
Black beat up table
Tactic and minds
Cards flying
Mouths gabbing
Points tallying
Creatures dying
"Hey, it's your turn!"
"Smoke break!"
"Good game."
Dan winning
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
126 GOP Representatives signed onto the latest attempt
by **** of Utin and his rumpettes, like Moscow Mitch,
Utin's puppets all, following vlad-the-impaler's orders,
to e'er further press their case for overturning the will
of the people in our recent fair election for President,
to the Supremacy Court, where they were sure their
cries of supposed "irregularities" would win them their
criminally insane day, keep our king-kong sized
terrible-two, who's going on six, illegally installed in
the Black House. It took the conservative Court but
126 words to bury their megalomania, dreams of grandeur.
350,000 of my and your fellow Americans have been
exterminated by them so far, pandemiced, a purposely
not prevented 9-11-01 terrorist attack's victim's toll
per day, every single minute another murdered
premeditatedly by them, more will have been ended
by them here before this is over than killed by all
our enemies in the entirety of this nation's history,
including their cherished civil war. Joe's installing
them in his Cabinet, Admin., instead of cleaning house?
How on God's green Earth do they still steal breathe
from the Amazon forests, Gaia's lungs, which they
can't seem to destroy quick enough. The head of TX's
GOP just said that "...Rump's States should secede...",
to paraphrase. "...We(e),...", say, one and all, please,
we beg of you, do, then we can prosecute and execute
every single one of you members of Rump's int'l crime
family, legal like. Your talk of secession for going on
a century has obviously been no more than gabbing of
all hat cowboys playing at being men, cowards all.
The Bible says it, "don't covid thy neighbor's wife",
but, I guess you don't read much. People, as sure as
you live, they will eventually **** you, death be proud!
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 12:21 AM UTC
"Shut up!"
Something raises my guard -
I begin to bark.
Immediately a human feels
Obligated to shout at me:
"shut up!"
I'd like to speak your language.
Just once. I truly would.
The language that you obviously
Are so very much enamored of -
you utter it even in sleep.
And all of your waking hours.
Talking and gossiping.
Speculating and chattering.
Jabbering and yakking.
Talk, talk and even more talk -
you must be infatuated
With the mass of gibberish
Belching forth from your mouths.
Morning, noon and evening -
through the extended night -
All of you, constantly talking,
gabbing, talking, babbling, talking...
And how rarely you communicate
anything of any importance.
Shut up.
- fr
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
The silver slide.
Doors closing,
lift going down
sounds like directions
to an old
Northern Town.
There's not much old now
and somehow
it doesn't seem right
seems to me they want to
paint the night white and
call it a day
if you get what you pay for
the door still closes, the lift
still goes down
and you still get directions to
an old Northern Town
Fish from the quays with
chips for your teas
not forgetting a dollop
of green mushy peas
talking past tense
over
the small garden
fence
Pegs on the clothes line
gabbing away
having a fine time.
Doors closing
lift going down
throwing up motives
for memories of
an old Northern
town.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC