"lisped" poems
A View from a Valley Well
As I drew from your valley well .......waters sweet last night
My eyes were transfixed on your ******* ***** and tight
Your fingers like the harpist lost in song
Were dancing upon these pink peaks so long
Beyond these matching minarets
My eyes espied your round ruby lips
These labials lisped that eternal sacred love song of the bed
Captivating is the view from your valley to your head
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 9:41 PM UTC
399
A House upon the Height—
That Wagon never reached—
No Dead, were ever carried down—
No Peddler’s Cart—approached—
Whose Chimney never smoked—
Whose Windows—Night and Morn—
Caught Sunrise first—and Sunset—last—
Then—held an Empty Pane—
Whose fate—Conjecture knew—
No other neighbor—did—
And what it was—we never lisped—
Because He—never told—
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1020
Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met Somebody’s little Boy
Asked him his name—He lisped me “Trotwood”—
Lady, did He belong to thee?
Would it comfort—to know I met him—
And that He didn’t look afraid?
I couldn’t weep—for so many smiling
New Acquaintance—this Baby made—
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I built a bar with Jackson *******
he gave me lemons,
and we built skyward with the salt of the earth,
drank with God.
He is a devil when he's drunk.
So be my front tooth, sing lisped with me, for what its worth.
Aug 9, 2011
Aug 9, 2011 at 11:48 AM UTC
Away from the nicely lit place,
where guests chatted and giggled,
we sat face to face, in the after glow
of our smoldering new found love,
for quite a while,wondering within us,
how could emotional fireworks blow up
amidst prolonged pandemonium,like this?
Words to us, seemed quite out of place
I just gazed and gazed in to her eyes
she blushed,like a first time kisser.
A faint beam from a distance, made her
emotionally charged face look all aflame.
Her nostrils pretty attractive,perfect rings
looked flared,like an animal's,I noticed
that catches a scent, awaited for long;
seemed like she had an urgent need to express.
I had a guess, but her words were distracting,
"I love your fingers"she lisped, my index finger
on the right hand she started to pet,
"It's so enticing"she spoke as if
she substitutes a thing for one different.
as the compulsion was such.
Time stood still, in the middle,but that wasn't a hitch!
I remembered she had to leave, shortly
but the tide of our passions was flooding still,
so we created darkness at will around us.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
she begged
dont forget about me
dont let me go
kiss me before you leave
how could i
wish i didnt have to
here
mwah
i pleaded
take me home with you
here take my shirt
come back with me
how could she
she wished she didnt have to
no
i cant
above acorns
plosive "p's"
slurred and lisped "s's"
bare feet crying out
i began
humming
what used to be called
dub
we kissed
and
as our lips vibrated
cracked and dry
pseudo-moistened with
yesterdays scent
my smile showed first
then hers
then mine again
all too easy to close
the door clanged
and with a creak
the window revealed
what i was losing
one more for the road
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
All she sees are unfamiliar belt
buckles and bottom row shelves
Seeking something I'm frightened
for her darting dark eyes to find
Wandering the maze of mundane
isles in the busy super store
A sunflower of panic blooming in
her small chest, pressing against her
fluttering heart as the clicking of her
tiny boots increases in tempo
She is Gretal, leaving glimpses of the
swishing pink tail of her oversized
nightgown to guide me as
she dashes around corners and legs
My strides double hers and a smile plays on my lips as
I match her pace with ease
Letting the shelves between us guard her fragile security
"Are you lost sweetie?"
My calm voice beckoning her teary eyed glance She nods
two times, certain
Her warm hand fits into mine
Together they swing like a pendulum
"I can do tricks!" she giggles
letting her feet hang Too thin I think
carrying her effortlessly
I say that her dress is very pretty Disney
princesses beam, frozen that way
I meant to say that she is much lovelier
than any fictional character
She smiles anyway
The route to the shoe department
fails to sustain its urgency
Her soft lisped chattering
ushers my foolish grin
that falls quickly when I realize
we are being watched
A stout woman wearing a malicious
mask over a face that
was once fetching before the poison
that fed her addiction
My heart drops and I pray
silently that this is not who
it inevitably will be
Her mother, to ****** her
from my strange hand
with an unyielding grip
on the little girl's upper arm
Greeting the child with a raspy
"I'm going to bust your *** when we get home"
My jaw falls open, empty
My hand falls to my side, empty
I want to fill my mouth with
chastising words towards the mother
and comforting words for the angel faced girl
I want to fill my hand with
my fingers, a fist, delivered to the woman
and take the little girls hand once again
I watch the purple hearted girl
be escorted away without
another word
Purple for her favorite color, but purple because she's been
wounded while serving her God given, God ****** mother
She smiles anyway
All I see are faces blending together
and torment
Seeking something that I'm frightened
I'll never find
Wandering the maze of mundane isles
in the busy super store
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
he looks at me
with those slate grey eyes.
he mocks at me
with that snarl tooth lisped grin.
he looks at me and his lips dont move,
but his eyes speak with mountains.
they say she slipped through my fingers
like water through the rocks in the river.
they say the longer i ran to keep her,
the further she ran to me.
they say the more you tried to save her,
the tighter your fingers bruised her pale skin
and gripped her throat
until her lungs were almost dead.
they said she did it voluntarily.
i know better.
you did not release your grip even when i let go.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
Noor Alam dear what could I do for you?
Your proper name stands for light of the world
Gone are the light and the color and hue
From your eyes and your face darkness covered
Yet you lay alone on the playground slide
Easy and cozy as on a mother's lap
When all the inmates with that syndrome hide
Not wanting to show the guests their mishap
You cling the ladder rails resting your head
On the slippery slide lay listening calm
I do not know a bit of what you said
Except for the name you lisped 'Nooralam'
Your growth and look matching a UKG
Yet, weak and weighed down under languid love
The ladder forms a mother Emoji
Beckons 'hurry and hug me heathen mom'
Lying quiet with ears close to metal sheet
As you try hard listening to her heart beat
Does she respond to your cling to her feet?
Else why should you sneak away to this seat?
Does she cry or sing to you lullaby?
Or do you see angels laugh and play near by
Else what prompts you to come and lay lonely?
And watch with your closed eyes some mystery!
Noor Alam dear what could I do for you?
We have been joyful making fuss and fun
Bright and delightful singing songs anew
But failed to see your play with shades and none
Our commotions and haughty naughty plays
Shed shadows on your whimsy flimsy ways
Our races are rude reckless and intense
Unaware of your lowly lonely presence.....
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:50 PM UTC
“Dear Kitty-cat, black and pretty, tell us what to do in order to get away from thy mistress, the witch?”
Pity on the poor soul
Do your work with seeds of sympathy falling from your eyes
Stitch up the wounds of dead flesh
Beat on broken drums and sing in time with the willow branch
When the screams of the innocent drown out the howl of the wolf sing too
The birch tree lisped with its leaves, “Thou hast never put a simple thread over my branches and the little darlings adorned them with a pretty ribbon.”
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
There was a person
Sat at the garden
Sat sad and alone
Looking at the roses
It was one of roses
Moved towards him
Saying and telling him
What’s making the moon
Looking upset and sad?
All the world equals that!”
He looked at her
Saying “do you talk me”
She said ,she said”
There must be guy
Sit beside me”
He laughed and looked shame
He said “ but I”
She interrupted” you are the one
You are the moon
Of that beauty garden”
He wanted to praise
She said to him “why?
Why are you sad?
Why your matter is bad?
Who makes you grieves?
Who closes these roses?
Who tries to spread sadness?
He must be the ugly person
He” I am a singer
When I went to sing
I lost feeling and meaning
But I remember every word
The attendance hate me
They lisped by bad word
The producers hated me
They didn’t want to make me
Again as they thought I am frustrate
She said “sing!”
“What ?“ the guy answered
She repeated
He stood
Saying his song
She said “bad, bad”
You must have feeling
You must know meaning
And get it from your heart
Do as I do”
He began to sing
She do some movements
She was imitated
She said “now go and sing”
I will attend your party”
He went there
His turn came
He appeared on the stage
He remembered his failed
He remembered his gained
He remembered every undertaker
Refused to call him as a singer
He remembered how he argued
The last one to introduce him
It was the last chance
He looked at the attendance
He didn’t see her
He felt with big fear
He tried to do a verse
He couldn’t open his mouth
The attendance yelled and cursed
Till he saw her entering
She stood moving
The movements as the verses
He did the same movements
The heat of the party increased
The attendance did as he did
The attendance wanted it more
He repeated it more
He became a famous star
She brought every party
She learnt him carefully
He imitated her very neatly
Till she disappeared suddenly
He stood in the stage
Waiting to her immersion
But she didn't come finally
He couldn't do sing
He went to ask about her
He know her home
He knew she was gone
"Dead ,dead that is bad
Why does the death take every wealth?
Why does the death take the best?
And leaves who does not worth?
To be in that life
Why did you death take her?
I love her , her ,her?
I would marry her
That was after the last party
Then peace on her
Sleep in tranquility"
He went to sing again
After the undertakers argued
He stood on the stage again
He remembered her shine
He remembered her smile
He remembered her hands
How move them to argue him
He remembered her moon
How did it guide him!
How did he bright his mind
And converts his dark to light!
He couldn't sing a word
Till he saw her spirit
Entered the hall
She moved as the past
She was imitated
Till the song is finished
He fell dead
His heart was carrying
The mounts of that world
Of sad and bad think
His river of life was stopped
His air was not blew up
His eyes was closed
Only her face up
At the sky moved up
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
Angles of pulled, wrinkled eyelids with blood pooling underneath from long nights of looking at computer screens, searching for the next thing thing thing thing done (chimes)
that is he,
and I am me.
Authentically contrived. Do I dare say that? Weeks upon minutes of pulling clothes, tucked tags, and waiting, oh the waiting, and I don't know what to say.
I can't believe you like me. I can believe it fully. You bought me. You bought my story.
And it's the truth but I can't say the unspeakable real truth because it's a hollow
crisp lying dead and bloodless in a locker in the basement below the deepest rungs of my head
and I am cloaked in schemes and drama and white lies because I want to tell you of a better me
Because the truth *****
And I miss him
And I miss him
And I miss them all in different ways, whether it be months, a night, a meal, or a glance shared,
I listened to what I wanted to and now I have learned.
You with your small hands.
You with your lisped words.
You with your pierced lips.
You with your soft, smooth thighs.
You with your stick and poke tattoos.
You with your faded green hair.
You with your German words
And you, with your dark eyebrows that look like a storm. You were made for brooding and I saw.
I miss you. But I don't want to have to ask for anything unless you wish to give.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
[Sonnet #107 to SouthHampton: "...thy monument/When tyrents' crests and tombs of brass are spent./"]
(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXIX)
What ho! Write of the violets like t'avail
My soul of cherished hours gone far, far hence
Upon the crueler rending of joys thence,
And Life's dear fabric as it were, and pale
As aught excuse, read Shakespeare--in betrayl
Wisked off, as how those lines rouse for intents
Sweet minutes lingring oer the violets, whence
I lisped "...and Death to me subscribes--"(sans bail).
Lo, I can see all now as twas (in poor
'Scuse, eh?): blue skies sae warm, and silver dew
Just melted off the shadowed clover, fer
Those minutes I bent down and mused, while too
Thus fingring purple dainties winds would stir
Across sans kissing...and why now anew?
01Feb18c
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC
‘I always wanted to see your face,’ she said,
She was teasing me,
I’d gone along to our twentieth wake
Since we’d been divorced, and free.
We got on better than ever we had
When chained together in time,
That piece of paper had choked us both
But being apart, sublime!
I looked across at the massive cake
They had wheeled across the floor,
‘Now that’s what I call a giant bake,’
I said. She said, ‘There’s more!’
There were twenty candles around the top
And seven around the lip,
The twenty since we had been divorced
And seven for when we flipped.
The seven year itch was what it was
When we ended up in court,
We really should have got over it
But we’d given it little thought,
For the plumber lasted a month or two
She confessed, in one of her gripes,
For she got bored with him on the floor
Checking her taps and pipes.
And I got sick of the Dolly Bird
Who had lisped, she would be mine,
Who liked to strip to the Beatles hits
When her head was full of wine,
It all fell flat when the passion died
And we stopped to get our breath,
There was nothing she had to say inside
So she bored me half to death.
We came together just once a year
As a mark of our mistake,
And every year with the slightest tear
We would share a Parting Cake.
I’d never seen one as big as this
It was white, and frilled with lace,
And that’s when Jennifer said to me,
‘I wanted to see your face!’
The lid flipped up and the stripper rose
As I dropped my jaw, and gaped,
She stood a moment and struck a pose,
‘That’s my present for you, Jake!
It’s a bit too late to apologise
For making that awful scene,
But I think we’re older now, and wise,
And you get to lick off the cream!’
The girl was covered in cream all right
On her thighs and hips and breast,
‘You get to lick what you want tonight
And I’ll scrape off the rest.’
She laughed, I laughed, and I saw her then
As the face of one I’d missed,
There was little thought of the stripper then
As we both leaned in, and kissed.
David Lewis Paget
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Across all the miles that separate us,
More than twenty years away from your home,
You tell me of an unloved city,
The honeysuckle and the baffled men
Who look at you like tourists.
You should be here where the sky is postcard blue,
Where the morning is a soft withdrawal of the night
And not another day you just have to live through.
For a whole day I've sat here waiting for you.
I saw the gypsy come early with his flowers and go.
I saw the nuns, like dominoes, wooden and stiff,
Toiling up the hill as the church bell lisped.
I saw the lunchtime shoppers, arms full of fruit,
And tasted the sweetness of cherries on my tongue.
I sat on waiting in the siesta sodden sun,
The slow hours of the afternoon, lazy voices speaking,
In the square, a beggar bent over a sandwich,
Looking at it the way some of us look at books.
In the evening a straggling queue began to form
Outside the bright, peeling posters of the theatre,
And I imagined you there, excited and eager to go.
A bootblack walked across to me as the evening fell,
His fingers bent and the colour of raw walnuts.
He stretched like an athlete preparing for a race
And told me had news from a faraway place.
He didn't, of course, so I just bought him a beer
And let him talk with his drunk tongue stubbing the words.
At midnight, we were swept back out into the street
And we hugged and said goodbye like old friends.
I wrote this, Anna, because it's good to think that maybe
In another life, we might have passed by here together.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
is it selfish
hate
is it peaceful
negotiate
our troubled times and no date
fist full of lies that is our fate
second lisped tries only fill the plate
sampled on delicate hands that ****
and triggered spelled lungs duct taped
smoke signaled clouds that cant escape
anger shouts love that choose to relate
my answers are for god and not to dictate
for you thats absurd because i am late
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC