"stutter" poems
i have found what you are like
the rain,
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the air in utterable coolness
deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and.press
—in the woods
which
stutter
and
sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
167.5k
i remember the way your hair shined through the sunny day
studying the way your eyes flutter every time you stutter
the words you cant say
i remember how pleasing your voice was beneath my ears
i remember being with you
washed away my fears
do you remember the days where we used to lay in the shade?
forming figures in the clouds
having long conversations for hours
nights where we stayed up late
getting into stupid debates about who's right or wrong,
picking out the right song to play over and over again.
remember how we fought over stupid stuff?
and even though times get rough, we'd just laugh it all up
do you remember when we met in September?
in english class where the hours didn't last
and that's where it happened so fast
creating memories that we thought would remain
but all we created
was pain
and that was the last day i saw you.
sitting on the bench
with another girl
my heart clenched
cheeks tear-drenched
my pride craving for revenge.
listen darling,
i just want you to remember
from the beginning of september
remember the long-lasting splendor
the last moments of us being together
because i remembered
and dare i keep it in my heart forever.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 3:40 AM UTC
Sully suffers from a stutter,
simple syllables will clutter,
stalling speeches up on beaches,
like a sunken sailboat rudder.
Sully strains to say his phrases,
sickened by the sounds he raises,
strings of thoughts come out in knots,
he solves his sentences like mazes.
At night, he writes his thoughts instead
and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
I never knew what beauty was until I saw him
With every imperfection,
With every stumble,
and with every stutter,
My heart knocks hard inside my chest
Trying to escape
Hoping to be captured by his warm, calloused fingers.
And you don't even know who I am
That day you bumped into me
I dropped all my books
You helped me pick them up
And I got to look into your eyes
They were a lovely color
Not even Picasso could recreate
And you still don't even know who I am
We bumped into one another again at a party
You slurred apologies and "excuse me's"
And I laughed it off
Trying to Ignore the fact that your hand was creeping on my waist
Your fingertips igniting sparks in my skin
You held your deep gaze with your Picasso-colored eyes
And dragged me into a room tripping over nothing
I thought you finally knew who I was
The next day at school you bumped into me again
You had dropped my phone
This time you didn't pick it up
And you walked away without a second glance or apology
And you still don't even know who I am
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised?
Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise?
Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise
Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties
To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke
Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke
Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims...
Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction
Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art
Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts
Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart?
To love and to cherish til your knees did part?
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew
While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues
To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts
Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts
Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand
She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm
Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth
And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed
Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex
When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks
Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror
Love is for life until you dress it with liquor
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong
The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on
That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company
Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
In the morning, old becomes new
Birds sing as black slowly turns blue
In the morning, my fears are taken
My faith is stronger, I am not shaken
My fears are taken by morning's rebirth
Fresh as the dew clinging to my feet
In the morning, there is a new me to meet
Whom the blinding night has deemed fit to birth
In the morning, my flaws are still the same
Like the yellow sun, everyday like flame
In the morning, I remember yesterday's mistakes
And I know better what is at stake
In the morning, I let go of the night
I let go of the dark, I embrace the light
In the morning, my eyes are brighter
My dance is better, my laugh is lighter
My smile is warmer, my kiss is softer
My hug is tighter, my speech has no stutter
In the morning, I am all I want to be
Awake, refreshed, hopeful, free
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.
Logan Robertson
7/25/2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
She broke my heart again
It failed as she skipped out of reach
It’s okay
Little things can go unnoticed
How big can a heart really be?
She gave it a kick as she stumbled over it
That paled in comparison when she stepped on it
I gift wrapped my heart
I even sang a little tune as I tied the bow
She had that look though
A little moue of surprise and a stutter
My heart dropped and I leaned back
Bracing myself always feels like it should help
But, then she broke it
Kicked it
Stepped on it
Scuffed it for sure
It got a little blurry
I knew as soon as she said
“We can still be friends right?”
cc062911
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
Her lips constant at the utterance
Of sweet and serene words filled
With adoration, praising him,
He who made endless hearts
do cartwheels and somersaults
Of multiple, millions nigh and far
their hearts loving
As long as he’s living
Nonetheless, changing courses
Of history was what she excelled
One glance, one encounter turned
Her lips managing
to do none but stutter
To his shielded heart
no one managed to flutter
His deer like eyes observing
With admiration, eyes sparkling
every look, crook, nook
Of her smile that shook
The worlds and heavens
Devout in his heart and mind
His earth's plates shifting
His massive planets orbiting
He witnessed it all in one being
The gravity of the universe on her
Shoulders heavy from responsibility
The heavens challenging her capability
Her hardships conveyed as she blinked
their dilated orbs communicating
language barriers unstoppable
To what her eyes held
He understood his needs
To care, to cherish, to love,
Feeling his heart pumping blood
Faster, quicker than light
Travelling the dark domains
Undiscovered, just like her soul
That he felt the need to explore
As his heart finally fluttered
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
A real man
Remembers that stars are there
Even when blocked out
By city lights
He knows patience
Because more often
Than not
Waiting
Is
Worth it
He does not falter
With his love
He does not stutter
When he mutters
Three
Simple
Words
A real man
Need not be rich
Or giant
Or aggressive
But knows that family
Is prosperity
Love is vast
And
Compassion
Is more powerful
Than destruction
When he laughs
He is carrying me away
On plush clouds
Lightening my day
Reminding me, not to feel so heavy
You feel his heart
Beating at once
With yours
Even from far away
When he smiles
It is not forced
It is peaceful
It is effortless
You see the world in his
Gleaming
Brown
Eyes
When he cries
(Yes, a real man cries)
He is shedding away his pain
Collecting tears
To make a river
So that he can swim
He never
Allows himself to sink
When he loves
It is almost indescribable
He takes care
He is devoted
He is reliable
Understanding
Of the universe’s trials
The sad truth is
So many good men
Go unnoticed
In this world
So many are
Taken
For granted
When a girl
Realizes
She has a real man
She must decide to
Step up
And become
A real woman
Strong
Loyal
Nurturing
Loving
Honest
She gives him her heart
And never thinks twice
And if she’s lucky enough
To be given his
She treats it
Like a precious stone
And never lets it
Out of sight.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light
the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love
with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?"
"It really is, you are right there, but pardon me
I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled,
"Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit"
I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant,
the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss
with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender
or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth
that not even expect any kind of reciprocation,
blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees.
Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk
whom one only could think as incarnates
came down to lift this miserable world
up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen
because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
i would do anything
to have your lips stutter my name
let your words grasp my hand
watch your eyes search for mine.
to wait for you is impossible yet divine
when we exist in places
so far from where we are destined.
we are parallel lines
i would do anything
for us to be a painting instead
i'd color you in hues of unrequited love
and put us on a frame
i'll give it to you and say
'keep it. keep us. keep me'
'why'
'because we are so much more than just parallel lines'
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
all i got's a rusty truck
some dreams and my guitar
out of all them three
not one will get me far
the truck don't run
the guitar's out of tune
the day just must get better
it's only ten past noon
i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right
my roof is always leaking
my boat won't stay afloat
i'm tone deaf and i stutter
i can not hold a note
the truck has rusted floorboards
they've rusted clear on through
the thing that makes me keep it
is it's where i first kissed you
i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right
with your voice there beside me
a new truck and new guitar
the dreams won't seem so distant
we'll be closer to the stars
a good and strong foundation
and belief in what i dream
with two hearts it is stronger
with two hearts, we're a team
i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
She walks down pavement
She makes the government’s infrastructure look like beauty
Her beauty turns away the rules of the snooty conservative government
The constitution loses its soul
When she bends over to check the hood of a car about to roll
Her boyfriend accompanied by other boyfriends who hit on her
I stand on the sidelines
Problem is I murmur
You probably thought a stutter was worse
She’s such a high class gal
Despite her sultriness and I’m not judging
But I must mention she goes to Church
So you might still mistake her for being an uptown sister
She dances to rock music
Her head doesn’t even sway to the EDM that the plebeians surrounding her play
She’s an anachronism
But she just needs me to introduce her Monet’s impressionism
I bet her cultural values force her to mould Picasso’s Cubism
Even though I’m not a man’s man
She without influence is not enough
Because influencing is love
And I hope it is to this cute rebellious dud
I suppose from her house she ran
When she looked morose in school during period nine
It was English Drama and suddenly she couldn’t seem to remember the line
With her friends flanking her she walks and talks
She’s on the phone while she’s wearing her socks
She’s on the prowl she’s an active girl
That women is close to my heart
And I hope to treat her like a clam treats its pearl
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
I'm sorry if things would come out so wrong
It's just that I've loved you for oh so very long
I don't know how I should interact
Or how I should come to react
I'd stutter like I'm a big dork
I make worse conversations than that of a fork
But it's because I'm just charmed by your smile
I guess it's my way to stay with you for a while
I keep my distance, not because I want a good bye
But it's just that.. Well.. I'm way to shy
I get all shaky when our shoulders would touch
It's probably because I've longed for that so much
*You must know what you do to me when our hands would simply touch
If happiness were a grading system, I'd be at the top notch*
So please don't be weirded out by how I am
I'm trying to be normal with the best that I can
I'm awkward, shy but oh so very kind
and you're the only girl who's in my mind
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
You were supposed to love me til death do us apart.
But Then you let go and decided to trample my heart.
You've turned love into a lie and made heartbreak a work of art.
It was something I should have seen coming from the very start.
I was so foolish. Choosing someone like you wasn't at all very smart.
I fell in love with you because I knew your heart and knew who you were.
Now everything good about you has been wiped away, now a blur.
When I told you I loved you I meant it. I didn't stutter nor slur.
Now, after all is said and done I wish this charade had never occurred.
My heart, soul, time and tears were all taken advantage of.
Oh, how you lied to me because what you offered was never love.
In spite of the suffering I went through by you, I still considered you sent from above.
You disregard the times I treated you like a queen, when you were my white dove.
When my heart utterly melted for you. When your beauty was my treasure trove.
Now that its all over, you've given love a bad name.
Now that its over, I'll never look at it the same.
Love is no longer beautiful. Its a disgrace, a pity, a game.
Because of you Ill probably never find true love and that's a real shame.
However, I do hope someday I can find another that'll light my heart aflame.
But for now its a darkness a void. Because of you that's what love has became.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 9:02 AM UTC
words fall
like hapless fledglings
tossed from a cliff edged nest
with much screeching, squawking,
countless feathers lost
and then an awful thump
or hopeful, glorious flight
first love is tachycardiac love
all adrenaline, sweating palms
and stutter-stumbling sqeakings,
ungainly gropings,
when not with you, mopings
unrealistic hopings
for happy ever after endings,
breakings, bendings,
awkward mendings,
repeated leavings,
repented lovings.
heartfelt givings,
of broken hearted rendings.
lendings,
of time stolen from life
tearing, teasing,
tantalising teamings
crying, begging,
pleading strife
and then,
the metaphorical knife
cutting, slashing,
wordblow bashing,
screaming, reaming,
end to loves life.
til eventually, words fall,
like old birds leavings
to settle, unremarked upon
at the base of the tree of life.
first love's loss, is slow dying.
arrhythmia to flatline
in a multitude of laboured breaths
and long lingering sighs.
a loss of warmth,
from breast and thighs
and water copious,
falling from red rimed eyes.
sobbing, murmuring,
don't know whys?
from lips turned
toward,
bleakset skies.
as one settles firmly,
into black dog muck
no longer able to give a f▼ck.
tucked in tight to sadness,
lost all sight of former gladness,
caught up and shackled tight,
to the badness
around and around,
the carousel goes.
then,
at last,
the blessed silence,
as you die
one of many of....
life's little deaths
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Fahnd 'im lyin' int middle o' t'street
bruised an' battered from t'tramplin' feet.
Ee'd crawled aht from some gutter
an' them cries tha' ee did utter
almost like a knife through butter
cut mi quick an' deep.
'Is broken wings ah tried to treat
gently praying that ee'd be reyt.
But when 'is cry became a stutter
t'world rolled dahn its shutters
an' rahnd mi someone muttered:
" 'is prospects ain't 'alf bleak".
An' that poor lost little 'eap
ah cradled but coun't weep,
til mi arms discerned a flutter.
So in mi chest ee'll see the summer
from that 'ollow haven like no other
where ee can safely sleep.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel **** alien, even in the
Most familiar of surroundings.
Instead of spinning, pointing,
Naming everything Home,
I shut myself, and turn inward.
Day after day the first one at a
New school in a foreign country,
As far from a cool kid as the
Overweight teacher's pet with a
Stutter. I don't even know how to
Speak my own name in their
Incomprehensible language.
Nothing here is for me, and
At least E.T. had a home to phone; all
I have is the space i possess as I walk
Through it, eyes firm on borrowed
Footing. No single road leads to my
Rome, and somewhere inside the
Timelessness of my innermost, the
Old, old man watches the young'uns
Talking, dressing, adressing,
Preferring, doing it all the way
Young'uns do, with pale, tired eyes
And simply just
Can't, -tries, but- just doesn't
Understand.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Alliteration isn't cheesy
Not for me.
When I use words to stave off the clutching squeeze of
A panic attack
I can write:
"There is pressure on my chest and I feel anxious."
or
"Pain presses me into purgatorial prayers."
Alliteration becomes the stutter into which I
Skid to a stop
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 6:18 PM UTC
You changed me.
You changed my life, with the touch of your hand.
You were different, patient and sweet.
You're stutter always got to me.
The way your face crinkled when you were having troubles getting the words out,
The way your eyes sparkled.
But why?
Why did you comever into my life, become a forbidden fruit?
One bite and I was addicted,
Another and you were gone.
You made me feel whole, you made me feel.
I can't get over the way you smelt,
I can't get over the way you held me.
I am trying to replace,
But no one can replace,
Replace the way you were do accepting,
Replace the way you held me, cared for me.
No one will replace you,
and I can't get you out of my head.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
Postpartum depression’s
the perfect expression,
describing my current lament,
my love’s with another,
my kids with their mother,
I feel ‘though my heart’s up for rent.
My dreams’ in the gutter,
my life’s in a stutter,
how could I have been quite so blind?
Postpartum depression’s
The perfect expression
describing my blue state of mind.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
Other cats can climb trees,
And stand high on branch catching the breeze,
But I make the wind rush,
So fast that the ground I barely brush,
Camouflaged in black spots,
I hide in the bush far from their shots,
I can’t roar but I growl,
I chirp, I stutter, I purr and yowl,
Then I run like a train,
And back to my home; safety again.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
A short direction
To avoid dejection,
By variations
In occupations,
And prolongation
Of relaxation,
And combinations
Of recreations,
And disputation
On the state of the nation
In adaptation
To your station,
By invitations
To friends and relations,
By evitation
Of amputation,
By permutation
In conversation,
And deep reflection
You'll avoid dejection.
Learn well your grammar,
And never stammer,
Write well and neatly,
And sing most sweetly,
Be enterprising,
Love early rising,
Go walk of six miles,
Have ready quick smiles,
With lightsome laughter,
Soft flowing after.
Drink tea, not coffee;
Never eat toffy.
Eat bread with butter.
Once more, don't stutter.
Don't waste your money,
Abstain from honey.
Shut doors behind you,
(Don't slam them, mind you.)
Drink beer, not porter.
Don't enter the water
Till to swim you are able.
Sit close to the table.
Take care of a candle.
Shut a door by the handle,
Don't push with your shoulder
Until you are older.
Lose not a button.
Refuse cold mutton.
Starve your canaries.
Believe in fairies.
If you are able,
Don't have a stable
With any mangers.
Be rude to strangers.
Moral: Behave.
4.9k