"gossiped" poems
824
[first version]
The Wind begun to knead the Grass—
As Women do a Dough—
He flung a Hand full at the Plain—
A Hand full at the Sky—
The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees—
And started all abroad—
The Dust did scoop itself like Hands—
And throw away the Road—
The Wagons—quickened on the Street—
The Thunders gossiped low—
The Lightning showed a Yellow Head—
And then a livid Toe—
The Birds put up the Bars to Nests—
The Cattle flung to Barns—
Then came one drop of Giant Rain—
And then, as if the Hands
That held the Dams—had parted hold—
The Waters Wrecked the Sky—
But overlooked my Father’s House—
Just Quartering a Tree—
[second version]
The Wind begun to rock the Grass
With threatening Tunes and low—
He threw a Menace at the Earth—
A Menace at the Sky.
The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees—
And started all abroad
The Dust did scoop itself like Hands
And threw away the Road.
The Wagons quickened on the Streets
The Thunder hurried slow—
The Lightning showed a Yellow Beak
And then a livid Claw.
The Birds put up the Bars to Nests—
The Cattle fled to Barns—
There came one drop of Giant Rain
And then as if the Hands
That held the Dams had parted hold
The Waters Wrecked the Sky,
But overlooked my Father’s House—
Just quartering a Tree—
19.1k
Tiger, Tiger they all called him.
Faces marked with smiles grim.
Office buzzed with word tiger, tiger.
He was one but many they were.
Full day continued insincere flattery.
End of month 'twas, day for salary.
Then story took melodramatic turn.
Like tiger he moved, demeanor stern.
Outright he announced party that night.
Everyone attended in clothes bright.
They gossiped, danced and dined.
Happily they all boozed and wined.
He sat like a tiger circled by coterie;
And the total bill was half the salary.
I looked through magnifying glass;
And saw pack of wolves and an ***
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
I wove my own web and netted my prize,
I cold-pressed my words and refined my disguise.
I goggled at life and faced up to that book,
I tumbled and tweeted and baited my hook.
I blipped and I blogged, I bantered and blushed,
I followed and friended, I grovelled and gushed.
I doled out the instant, ten grams at a time,
To fuel my addiction for caffeine and rhyme.
I reshopped my pic, I swiped left, I swiped right,
I pinned and I posted deep into the night.
I gloated and gossiped, I chatted and cheered,
I logged in and logged out without favour or fear.
For is it not fun - this mad media storm?
Viewing and voting from dusk until dawn.
Yet love me or like me, let it never be said,
That despite how it seems, it’s gone to my head.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
We, too, had known golden hours
When body and soul were in tune,
Had danced with our true loves
By the light of a full moon,
And sat with the wise and good
As tongues grew witty and gay
Over some noble dish
Out of Escoffier;
Had felt the intrusive glory
Which tears reserve apart,
And would in the old grand manner
Have sung from a resonant heart.
But, pawed-at and gossiped-over
By the promiscuous crowd,
Concocted by editors
Into spells to befuddle the crowd,
All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.
No civil style survived
That pandaemonioum
But the wry, the sotto-voce,
Ironic and monochrome:
And where should we find shelter
For joy or mere content
When little was left standing
But the suburb of dissent?
3.1k
And he saw it now and then
the lamp lit row of houses that
stretched beyond the eye
houses where men who dug black
slept and drank when they could
ageless cobbles pried on
men who fought in the street
over want, women and work
while little men sons played
foolish games of childhood
daughter women with prams
mothered their plastic dolls
and the wives gossiped about
young Sally who had a belly
by John Stout the butcher boy
the reverend Ellis knew
all the stories and chapters
of life in this coal dust street
he birthed them baptised them
married and buried them
and the street was quiet
no vehement voices tonight
as the deed of death
slipped over the cobbles
and gripped a sleeping soul.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
It was 3:30 in the morning
The aunt died, heart attack they said.
I only have a pale memory of her
The pink-house, protest and abuse.
Grandfather plucked us from there
the next day
The pink hibiscus my mother planted
did not depart.
She is dead today
I went to see her in black clothes,
The house, an empty aluminium box-
With kids playing ‘ring around the roses’,
Uncles debated politics and aunts gossiped
And some moaned inside.
I waited outside with few strange women,
They asked me questions
plenty of them
The anti-social me smiled.
The morning was usual
Mother made noises in the kitchen
with her steel plates and old radio,
Father forgot the fish on his
green kinetic honda,
Cats had a feast that evening
I did yoga, read newspaper and did-
not take a wash.
The dead body arrived late noon
in an ambulance with her expatriate son.
There was a sudden burst of cry-
inside- her daughter and grandchildren.
She looked like the fish to me,
The fish my father brought that morning
from the market, cold and dead.
Her daughter’s cry reminded me of-
an elapsed day in my pink house.
My father kept pink flowers on her feet
and prayed
I did not move, sat with the same chitchatting
women
The chanting became loud and it reverberated.
The body was finally taken to the fire
My mother came late, she wept.
The body burned down in minutes,
Dear relatives decamped.
I sat on the same chair
with my cousins
drawing the family tree, locating stories
and laughed over family jokes.
Then we sat tight lipped with brandy fumes
and cashews.
I came back home with my father
in the green kinetic honda,
I looked for the fish and the cat
I could not find both.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
I'm jumping into new with this trampoline pad
I'm hating every poem I wrote because they were too sad
I have passion flowing through all my veins
It twists around the hurts and pains
My passion is like a river, never gonna sit
With any dam in the way, it'll jump over it
I've felt like ash from a fire just extinguished
All dreams I once had had been relinquished
Then after a final heartbreak, it sparked some emotion
A spark in the ashes, a wind now in motion
And with this sole spark, I will use my one chance to fan it
After jumping into the unknown, this time I will land it
I am a phoenix rising from the ashes, no longer defied
My heart is beating once more, but it never really died
I am no longer just a bird flying above
I am an eagle, soaring from self-love
I used to lay at the bottom of the sea, feeling entirely worthless
But now I've remembered to just swim up to the surface
I feel like a rose in a bush, used to being tricked
But for once in my life, I was happy not being picked
And I know that we're no longer looking at the stars and crying
But I'm laying there by myself, eyeing Betelgeuse and Orion
If someone looks into my life, thinking they're so smart
They'll see lots of my friendships are falling apart
I've been gossiped about, lied to, insulted, from the entirety of night to day
But for once it didn't matter, and I simply walked away.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 7:34 PM UTC
Even in death she mocked them
They that turned up to watch
Her laid to rest.
These people she had loathed
in life everyday
whose help she scorned.
The one whose man was loose
A meaningless philanderer
Another that gossiped
Of the good, bad and ugly.
She wouldn't accept their help
They thought her a charity case.
She danced on her grave
was this what death was like?
to look down on your body
Peaceful like in sleep.
The years had not been kind
She looked ravaged by nature
wrinkled like a wilting flower
Ashen grey and crumbling
She danced because it was over
The hardship that was life.
Light as a feather she felt
She could be herself again
not have to conform to others
pretend to be what she wasn't
she was a free spirit
reign to wreck havoc
On the neighborhood folk
Them that were hypocrites
She would give them lessons
a haunting they wouldn't forget.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
In my house
It smells like burning nachos
Like pico de gallo left to rot
And beans too long on the stove.
I stand in the doorway
Keys in one hand, doorknob in the other.
It's snowing outside, and I'd forgotten
That I'd asked you over that afternoon,
Just to talk.
Maybe watch TV.
For three and a half years now, we've been best friends.
But there was a different time,
When we didn't talk to each other,
When we let teenage angst and hatred seethe
Between us like some dark and twisted monster.
There are different kinds of anger.
I was mad at you because in the summer
Between seventh and eighth grade, you flaked on me
For those other girls, the ones who wore bikinis
And whose dads had speedboats and sports cars,
Whose boyfriends were in high school,
Who wore black eyeliner and gossiped all the time.
I was mad because you changed yourself for them.
I thought that that was why you were avoiding me.
Today you told me
You were mad at me
Because we liked the same boy.
You said you thought I resented you for it.
I laughed.
This is why we have these talks -
So that, looking back on our junior high selves,
We can make fun of what idiots we are.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 4:08 AM UTC
I sat under my dining table
Of eight chairs and forty eight columns,
It felt like a house with
Windows, dust and unwanted curly locks.
Sitting cross-legged on the white floor
Reflecting my clothes, body and words
I pulled my nails, sang little rhymes
And hit the chair legs with my little thumb.
Guests came, gossiped, recited tales
Gulped tea and left with more stories,
Some returned, others did not.
I sat under my dining table, awaiting
Plates, conversations and fuming-
Black tea. It did come occasionally
With my mother, father and few strangers.
There were books, umbrellas, newspapers
And sometimes samples of medicines,
They sat like Victorian women in long gowns
Who did not speak even after a tempest.
I sat there morning, noon and evening
Unaccompanied singing little rhymes.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
He didn’t think that that could have ever been true
The wild orchids not talking anymore –
Guarding their secrets like pearly pools of water.
The first to hear about this was the lily, still waking up covered in dew
She stretched herself open, inhaling living into every grain of her body
Singing to the sun exaltations from his daughter
The dandelions spurned and gossiped among one other
Bobbling yellow heads creating a distraction for the wind
That took the words and spread them through the garden
Indigo butterflies landed on the orchid’s blossom caressing the delicate its delicate curves
Spilling sounds and voices and songs
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 9:32 PM UTC
Seein' her eye to eye is prolly the hardest thing to do.
I mean, I didn’t cheat or anythin like that
just took things too fast
and I ******
up.
They say it takes two to tango and things will work them
selves out, but with this I don’t think it
will. Jumpin’ to conclusion
just ain’t the
way.
Can’t believe I had somethin’ so good but let it
spoil to somethin’ rotten. I wish I could
go back into time and
listen to my
heart.
Shoulda kept **** private but just like a gossip girl,
I went and gossiped girl. I swear I
had the right intentions girl.
I swear I
did.
Feelings are a powerful weapon. They can make one
do things they’ve never believed they could,
but at the same time
they will break
you.
It
wasn’t just you,
I messed up too. Don’t
listen to what people have to say
we both know you’re a good girl, so believe it.
Things
will get better
girl, just let time do
it’s thing. **** was said about both
of us, but it shouldn’t change who we are girl.
We’re
both good people
who moved just a little
too fast. After all, we both run track.
We live, love, laugh and die impacting people.
Don’t
give up kid.
No matter what listen to
your heart even if you can’t hear it.
I know you’re gonna be big, for you are a giant.
I’m
here for you
when you think i’m not.
New beginnings lead to new memories.
I got mad family love for you kid stay strong.
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 2:03 AM UTC
The feelings left unchecked
your anger, your hate
brings about the failure of the times
the ties
the lies
the crimes that go unnoticed
to all but the one involved
pleaful cries fall upon the ears
of your deaf justice
Your gangs, your fangs
grow longer with every hateful spat
that is muttered behind doors of glass
with gold plated name plates
pin-stripped suits in-which egos inflate
unlawful crimes of ****** and sins
of economic proportions
While you borrow money from the poor
and put the debts to the world at a record
high
collective sigh
stifled cry from the unheard public
whose ears are buried with gossiped dirt
celebrities, foreign wars, local criminals
whose eyes are burned with the images
of starving children and destroyed cities
and while the nation's shoulder cringes
you filthy lying gnat
in the ear of the press
talk of progress
while the truth you suppress
Your value of a dollar is distorted
you man of power
and as homes crumble in dis-repair
I shall see you in your final hour
pleading to the court room of the down-trodden
mislead, misguided, spirit rotted
poor, the little man you stepped on
And when that little man seems to be a giant
And your empire comes tumbling down
I will see to it that your crimes are exposed
murderer of the nation's exquisite dreams
extortionist, economic terrorist
And I'll be the first to step upon the rubble
So laugh it up now, CEO
Because we will have our day, our way
Our Justice
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 3:56 PM UTC
You keep me awake,
While deep in my sleep.
Showing up unexpectedly.
Hearing through rumor and fact that,
It’s because you miss me.
You haunt me in my dreams.
Sometimes you’re my friend,
But usually you play the enemy.
People have talked and gossiped and mentioned,
It’s because you miss me.
Fighting silent battles,
Deep within the black of night.
Not knowing what to believe.
Are you just a figure of my imagination?
Or do you actually miss me?
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
I met you when you owned a universe.
You were a pitiless empress and I made pies for the sake of pie making.
After a season of orchard trysts
(a queen picking apples! The world would talk.)
you requested a pastry of my heart.
So I carved it out and baked it in and cut my hair for the latticework.
If you want to satisfy your gluttony, the directions are here.
The filling calls for apple cores.
Make sure you use the ones in the very back of the grove
on the ground where you nudged my knee with
yours as we gorged and gossiped.
Sprinkle a little dirt on it, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to get adventurous
and use the outdated milk and don’t sift out those sugar ants from the bag.
Knead the crust with your elbows, don’t use the hands that would pet my hair
as I lay in your lap.
Crawl to the oven, cut out your heart with a paring knife
(no royalty to buy you a clean blade) and toss it in.
Bake it at the degree of your contempt for me now.
Don’t sear the top with your temper, darling.
Act meek enough and eat your ******* pie.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
He rolled up yesterday
Out of nowhere
As always
My old friend and me
Sharing news of families
And where he's living now
With a million memories between us
We laughed about the past
Gossiped about the present
Who's with who these days
Why when and where
Gigs and music
As always
But we never mentioned the future
We rarely do these days
By Phil Roberts
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
You were smiling with me,
Then a tenderly feeling was going across my heart;
Yes, I was smiling back to you.
Oh! How unforgettable is that?
We studied, quarelled, laughed,
ate, gossiped and were blamed together:
We faced,
all difficulties and the happy, enjoyable moments together.
We were never separated,
We were always together.
The incident which was brought us to hold our hands together is,
The first ‘smile’, that tender ‘smile’:
Which is never forgotten by me.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
I hap'ed to meet Death once,
Along the Shining road,
I was going up it,
And he back down again,
Top o' the mornin' to ya,
I cheerfully put forth,
And the rest of the day to thee,
Came his grim reply,
I asked him how his business went,
If it was going well,
He answered it was booming,
Almost too much for him to do,
He asked me about the gleaming courts,
And if life there was good,
And answered as good as ever,
Though few notice none,
We chatted a bit and gossiped,
Shared a drink of whiskey strong,
Then both went on upon our ways,
Him down and me on up.
~Muninn's Kiss, January 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
She always sighed looked to the clouds and said,
"I can no longer pretend. Cuz its times like these that drive me to envy the dead."
A little lighter but still in remorse, she continued,
"And I don't mean to pry but those hues in your face, the colors of your eyes.
Well I wanted to take them and mix em with my every day visions.
Cuz its one shade I never want to forget and cease to exist silly revisions."
She always continued.
" & In the late years mist and molding leaves melting back to the earth again.
It reminded us of a simpler time we'd said.
The kind when we were able to feel alive even if we were still stuck in the womb of the town from where we came
and faulty attempts to look a little less dead."
Her eyes laughed. "Atleast on the inside anyway. I saw it in a few passing glimpses before."
But silly girls always question: "Shall I wonder to ever view those soul windows once more?"
A tattered chapter. A rememberance of melancholic place.
A word never spoke too soon so it has no mouth to try and escape.
A heart to sew on her sleeve but no instead to rip the seam apart,
string it along telephone wires signaling the urgent call
while all the neighbors nostrals flare in disgust at what some gossiped as only an electrical fire after all.
And laying in gently crippled memories of all the moments you clench your jaw and grit your teeth
and hold your breath, whether its out of anger and an upset or a loves ***** pleasure in bed.
Timeless is of the essence and I lived in the moment now.
Where tick tocks pay no wake to my sleepyhead
and my earthbound vessel can finally seek rest once the sunset decides to ***** something sweet all over the sky.
"And there." She pointed to the moon, smiling shyly, slitting from the up above beyond and wide.
"Thats where I find the colors. The ones lost from your eyes.
That crafted, ensnared and mystified all who became into existence; past, present and future combined."
And with that she disinegrated, disappeared into the space above.
A myth. A legend. It has been done.
Never to return again and visit the earthly plane she so dearly loved.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
She is my best friend because . . .
I immediately call her when I see something really funny happen in my daily life.
She is my best friend because . . .
Even though neither of us is particularly a fashion maven, I trust her implicitly when it comes to giving good style.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can’t even really remember how the two of us became friends, it just kind of started happening and *********** down a giant hill of love and care for her.
She is my best friend because . . .
We have a completely made up terms for mine and her people and very specific things.
She is my best friend because . . .
I basically expect her to be a more harsh version of Simon Cowell and put any of my dates through the judgy tests which prove her worthiness for the crown.
She is my best friend because . . .
Pretty much everything ever recommended to me by her in terms of entertainment has been a spot-on choice.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us have been to a concert together, it was amazing and we gossiped about the people in the crowd around her.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can always go back through my chat histories, text messages, and email exchanges to get a quick laugh or some reassurance that I am loved and understood by her.
She is my best friend because . . .
Sometimes I rediscover old inside jokes that I used to have with her and remember how hilarious and ridiculous they were all over again.
She is my best friend because . . .
Ultimate trust in her knows things that I have told literally no one else in the world.
She is my best friend because . . .
She is very understanding and little problems in day-to-day friendship do not affect the amount of trust and loyalty I have for her other overall.
She is my best friend because . . .
Every time I talk about her to someone who doesn’t know her yet, I gush a little bit.
She is my best friend because . . .
We help each other practice for job interviews and meeting, and are almost as nervous/excited about her getting hired as I do about your own job opportunities.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us pig out together and never worry about the other one judging my and her eating choices.
She is my best friend because . . .
My friendship makes me feel, in a lot of ways, much less scared about the future and the problems which might lie ahead of me . . . her . . . us . . . them.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Pigs, chickens, goats, ducks, geese, turkeys;
feed them all.
Always as a girl she walked without shoes.
She played in the mud and yet was still beautiful.
Up and down she chased that boy.
The painter boy;
the one who did not all that much care for mud.
The big man with the heavy boots stopped coming here;
many years ago he stopped.
The three ladies with the pointy shoes came then.
I became ridden with new holes and dips daily.
I became even more worn and torn up.
One would think I spent all my time with the likes of chickens;
continuously pecking and clawing and picking.
Ripping me away from myself layer by layer.
Mostly I waited;
waited for all of them to just leave.
Leave her to her farm.
To her animals.
To her life.
One night,
just as the sun decided to sleep,
she left; slipping away.
The ladies with the pointed shoes were gone.
She was leaving too.
But mercy!
Her feet were not bare and her calluses were hidden.
I knew soon life for us all would change.
For on her feet there was something new.
Glass slippers soft as silk caressed my face.
The hems of white satin and silk slipped over my eyes carefully.
She was afraid but anticipation shook her breath,
and weighed her feet.
I wished her luck and sent warm prayers up through me.
I waited patiently,
the rain pounded rudely upon me and
the night raced on.
It held feelings of pain but also of hope,
and I waited.
After humiliation and hurt passed,
carrying defiance and anger with them,
joy and happiness exploded in the air
as forgiveness spread silently around.
Satisfaction crept slyly in and decided to stay.
With petty arrogance the three of them pranced;
down the steps and across my face, stabbing me
with every new step.
They laughed and taunted and gossiped,
reveling in what splendor they thought they had,
and the royalty they believed they deservedly were to receive.
With false fragility they were lifted into the coach
where they sat with straight backs, gloved hands, bejeweled
everywhere they could be...
The ladies with the pointed shoes didn’t come back.
No, but she did.
Of course she did, she had to say
So long for now, even though
every once and awhile she’d be back.
Now someone else would tend the pigs,
the chickens, the goats and ducks and geese and turkeys.
Someone else with calloused feet and a ragged dress
would walk me over each morning.
But I didn’t care.
I smiled, that is, if dirt can do such things.
Cause as sure as anything in the world,
she was happy.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
through
the captain's
eyes
where ships
crashed through
the strong tides
the stift seas
nor the
hallowed winds
we shall not
gossiped
about our
graves
to thee
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
sorry I haven't written lately I haven't been my best
quite frankly I've got a lot on my chest
so allow me to air all of this out
I hate bottling up my problems and lashing out.
My laptops broken, and it's an expensive Fix
that doesn't sound like much but a lot of my creative works, poems stories and other things are trapped on it
My mom quit her job so now she's jobless,
she worked for attorneys she liked once but her co-workers gossiped and prodded into her life more than snitch in a mafia outfit
My sister and I haven't been speaking lately all because I made a simple mistake involving a baked pastry, I said I was sorry but she won't accept it
so until she's out of her petty thinking mindset all communications I'm rejecting
along with all this I haven't had much inspiration to run with I've been dry for awhile using throwaway concepts that really don't fit my style so I took a collaboration kick and then a break for awhile
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
Ripe feelings fill the balmy air
And ride the summer breeze
They twist and dip and whisper
Throughout the wizened Trees
They paint a vivid picture
Full of memory
Of a once caged heart
Now soaring full and free
They tell their tale with gusto
A sense of hushed pride
They speak softly to the flowers
Of a love that’s undenied.
The flowers tell their flower friends
Then those, they do the same;
Every blooming rose bush
Knew the couples names
They gossiped and they whispered
All chattering with ease
Till the story shuffled off
With a couple bumbling bees
These bees they traveled far away
Telling the tale along their ride
Of loves triumphs and elations-
And soon they heard she’d be his bride
And buzzed “congratulations!”
The couple looked into each other’s eyes that day
And said their loving I dos
While Mother Nature smiled on
Delighted by the news
Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC