"tattle" poems
Don’t be fooled regarding one’s tongue,
for it has the power of life and death.
Before doubting these words of wisdom,
now pay attention and catch your breath…
before any more idle words touch the ground.
We are accountable for everything we say;
Therefore, remember to think before speaking,
since our reckonings will come on Judgment Day.
Consciously refrain from speaking evil curses,
knowing that God’s presence surrounds each soul.
Undisciplined tongues unwittingly spew their venom
and cause unseen damage with poisonous control.
A perverse tongue easily breaks the human spirit
and keeps evil, generational curses flowing.
Plentiful sins roll off the tongue in the forms of:
Gossiping, Tattle-telling, Slander, Lying and Boasting.
Instead, give praise concerning the good things of God;
speak life into situations, since healing can be attained.
the reliability of The Word can be assured, for…
its promises insure that ours lives can be sustained.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Prov 18:21; 1 Cor 4:20; Deu 32:47; 2 Pet 2:3; 1 Sam 3:19; Psa 12:6
Lev 19:16; Mark 4:14; Prov 15:4, 21:23; Jam 3:1-18; 2 Cor 5:10
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
Pocket watch, I tick well.
The streets are lizardly crevices
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac,
A palace of velvet
With windows of mirrors.
There one is safe,
There are no family photographs,
No rings through the nose, no cries.
Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women
Gulp at my bulk
And I, in my snazzy blacks,
Mill a litter of ******* like jellyfish.
To nourish
The cellos of moans I eat eggs --
Eggs and fish, the essentials,
The aphrodisiac squid.
My mouth sags,
The mouth of Christ
When my engine reaches the end of it.
The tattle of my
Gold joints, my way of turning
******* to ripples of silver
Rolls out a carpet, a hush.
And there is no end, no end of it.
I shall never grow old. New oysters
Shriek in the sea and I
Glitter like Fontainebleu
Gratified,
All the fall of water an eye
Over whose pool I tenderly
Lean and see me.
3.7k
The nature’s unpleasantly clean
Green and brown and full of wheat:
Bending wheat
Straight wheat
The wind blows
Bending and straight wheat flutter
Straight ones move out and don’t come back
Bending ones shift but always come back
When new crops grow out:
Straight ones tittle-tattle
While bending ones mind their own business
Arrogant people stand straight and empty
Intelligent people bow their heads because of their mind’s heaviness
Better to be dense rather than hollow
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
"You're crazy and no one likes you." I don't know how to respond. I am ten and have never heard such hurtful words before. She smirks as I walk away in tears, silent in my own disbelief. At dinner that night, my mother says she is jealous of me because I am such a smart, kind girl. Now I am confused. Am I an outcast that is hated by all, or the poster child for perfection?
She is insecure
Envy green with jealousy
But she still hurts me
"Wow. It's really sad that you have to tattle to the principal instead of handling things yourself." I don't know how to respond. I am fourteen and am now embarrassed for asking my mom to talk to the school, and to make sure I didn't share any classes with my bully. I delete the post from my Facebook wall and lock myself in my room. At dinner that night, my mother says I am mature for contacting the school rather than fighting with my attacker. But I am confused. How can I stand up for myself if other people are solving my problems for me?
I cannot escape
Her words make me feel alone
What did I do wrong?
"Guess who." I know exactly how to respond. I am seventeen and I have had enough. My bully moved away two years ago; I thought she had moved on. Apparently, distance is not a problem for her. One sentence is all she will get from me: "I feel bad for you." The phone company has her number minutes later and I am proud of myself. At dinner that night, I don't tell my mother anything, because there's nothing to tell. There is no more confusion; I know that she is not the only one of her kind, but I also know that I am strong enough to handle anyone whose insecurites knock them down a few levels in the realm of maturity. I only wish the clarity had come sooner.
To my old neighbor:
Thank you for tormenting me.
You have made me strong.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Speculation proved
contagious,
misinterpretation
crept silently on patchwork soles
(odds n' sods messily stitched,
tittle tattle did no favours)
like a flu it spread,
hushed curiosities rested
outside ol' Hutch baker's door,
where even a freshly oven'd
batch might strain an ear
or five to net nearby tongue trading,
seeds straining on their brows.
Even those Mother hens
had a cluck or two left in them,
rumours about the
'Dust mite Martyr'
as she was dubbed,
“Does she have no shame,
sitting pretty in Matrimony's dress?”
one heaving checkered breast commented
titling her beak
to gain a better look -
At that shriveller slumped,
an examiner of the cobbles
with such a religious stare
her lids traced stones
within the darkness,
a traveller -
wanderer not to be trusted,
especially not
with bloodied lilies tangled
within her gleaming mop.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC
How do I tell you I failed again
Ill never recover or make amends
Sadness overcomes me
To think of something ill never be
My mind sails
As my heart fails
Whover thought
That happiness could be bought
Im in a battle
But all you do is tattle
Youre just not seeing
So Im fleeing
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
Started with selling lollipops out my locker, to pushing stocks, to selling beef with coco buns like Betty croocker. my gang green, a seal team, running schemes, wit; wicked regimes then moved up to the major leagues- with upper decks, up my sleeve. capture your spirit, just to set it free. dark knight, captures white king; wouldn't stop riding me. pawn moves, worth the trouble; it's two easy. Throwing stones, and Sandz castles, these haters tryin to castle me in; it don't appease me. these drag queens, keep turning there back; showing thier *** and tattle tails; like lil sis-sees. these miss-fits couldn't **** wit- me if they came in ultra HD, my Cats 5, and they treating me like I'm Mr. IP, darker the Wesley, I'm stone cold rocking an Iced-T, your Bud got wiser but it still ain't ******* with D. then grab Kim car dash and-be back by three, send Kanye west, to get Ad vice from me. my marketing skills so nice, I just capitalized. on the lies of our lives, of all three. These dudes the Wizard of Odds, fake pretend; Wizards of Oz, chasing the Wizard of Gods, reading scripts written by me. I wrap with a cause, like I''m passing the bar, in limbo with these dudes at odds with me. I'll dot their eyes, like Kimbo was training me. Their label-mates ****** in Big T's, liking on their selfies, on sell phones. I'm on roam, in Rome, using Google Chrome to Google Earth, on my eye phone- writing this from the O-zone, so that the people reading this will be like O'No - this dude is cold. I'm opt to much prime, all the timethen phone home- transfer the message, like Otimos prime
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
If a tale need be tattled,
the snawky Snawk would arise.
With its snickley tongue of arsenic blue,
and loathsome gamboge eyes.
To the King of the stickley Snicklers,
the Snawk would spill his talk.
But scuttlebutt was all t'was,
for he was but a snawky Snawk.
Might you ask
who am I be?
I am a jawky Jawk
who talks incessantly
of the snawky Snawk,
with his snickley tongue,
and his breath of kyarn,
and Beelzebub dung.
You see I knows of him all too well
and well he knows of me.
Invidious brothers, one of the other,
same Mother both have we.
Now the snawky Snawk spins yarns
so dark and thick and odious.
One might find his fatuous canards
to be though flatulent, commodious.
But If ye be a gawky Gawk
of the snawky Snawk beware,
For his loathsome camboge eyes
can squinny a ribald stare.
To your knees his gaze will bring you,
you'll tell all the tales you know.
Then he'll tattle them to the Snickler King
and off to the headsman you will go.
That is, unless, you know the ballad
the Snawk is most offended by.
'bout the frowzy blowzy stable boy
with only just one eye.
He lost his eye in a snickering match
twixt The Snickley King and he.
But got the best of the old nabob,
for he could cachinnate you see.
He did cachinnate and aggravate,
till the old King did concede.
The stable boy was the better of the two,
his tongue cut like a snickersnee.
For the frowzy blowzy stable boy
was not able to tell a lie,
nor could he mince his words with honey,
of the truth he could not hide.
And if one day you find yourself
in the land of the quidnunc kith.
Shun the snickley Snicklers,
and their sniggering King forthwith.
But if ye meet up with the stable boy
though untidy he may be.
Dare not tattle of a soul,
he'll let fly his snickersnee.
And remember well, the ballad he sings,
of the King he did do down.
Drink in its waspy strain and keep it nigh,
lest the snawky Snawk cometh 'round.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Dawn casts her long line for spring
Days linger to catch the angel irises bloom
Enveloped by early chirping chitter-chatter
Lightly crusted sleep argues for lids to remain closed
Black perking wake-me oil makes a strong cups case for compromise
A nudge to join the living
- On negotiated terms -
Somewhere between another dream and lavender bubbles
The contract will begin
Foggy feet shuffle onto the wheel
Spying steps creak tattle-tale floorboards alerting all on the way
Pleading thoughtfulness
You beg for silence as the Ra room comes into view
Brightly checkered yellow-brown mustard window patterns
Cut diagonal boxes across maple hardwood
Stained glass dots of emerald, violet, and red raspberry
Dance on lemon washed walls as they turn and wink for a smile
Your morning chair sets at the edge of the warming sun pond inviting you
Join them
You listen to the ripples of space
Your cushioned dock perfectly positioned for a loving embrace
You sit
And slowly dip legs into the glowing pool
Drenched limbs cocoon in the heavy webbing of golden rays
Bathing
The chickadees celebration is known
Immersed
Lids succumb to the orange haze
The Girl from Ipanema sings
Young and lovely
You feel wonderful
No risk of drowning here...
Only in happiness
One radiating breath
Before the Samba plays again
© 2019 MJL
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
I am alive & just barely;
my throat is closing off
with hard, precious cancer eggs
tucked safely where my tonsils
are supposed to sit.
my fingernails this lovely
shade of purple, a deeply
blueish tint influencing them
almost indigo. They tattle,
silently proclaim my complacent
malnutrition. the moons of my manicure
have sunk backwards, eve
returns to dusk, my favorite
time of day, where the quiet
begins, the candle may be lit,
& the eyes I always feel on me
are at least shadowed from my vision.
the coffee is so black
pulsing through my shrunken veins
that my tears are caffeinated.
even when I don't hold a cigarette,
I see the smoke under my breath.
my hands & feet are always cold,
my muscles tremble & I swoon
when we try to stand strong together.
there is turmoil
constant static
in the fissures of the grey matter.
well? tell me! does it really matter?
my bones ache
my face breaks
oh, this Exist Contemplate.
my government has always
been corrupt; the city walls
are finally wearing, having
borne the onslaught for decade
& decade. oh, the Burn & Blister.
I crawl to my coffin without your permission;
Where are you, my Handsome Benediction?
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Of darkness to unfold,
I know where the boats go.
Tales that shouldn’t be told,
Of souls, demons told, “No.”
Where forth the demons bayed,
No other place love shown.
Forced evil seen and slayed,
Darkness is where I go.
Finding nights of terror,
Tears lingering unknown.
Knowing you of all things,
Let gone, a deathly glow…
Wincing and knocking, no…
A rattle and tattle,
Death dark and all alone…
The wind felt breezed and cold,
The chilling breath spirit.
Not known… till screeching end…
This all too conclude so,
Tales that shouldn’t be told…
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 12:04 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
I swear I hate the imataters more than the know-it-alls,
Its like your smart,
But we dont need knowledge dropped on us all,
We've been in school long enough to quit the tattle tell,
Meanwhile I grasp the people's hands and fragrance,
Say I like your smell,
With the words that I wrote,
So misunderstood,
You gave me quotes and meanings,
I did a sentence good,
Momma are you proud,
I just did a paragraph all by myself,
I would yell it out loud,
But I'll be fool of myself,
Like Rhymes,
I was always so use to,
Instead I flow from my heart,
And they say who are you,
Thinkin about how many gallons of perfect defined *****
Would flow in my blood stream,
Unicorns , free food , smokes and gorgeous curvy women,
Would be the greatest dream.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
Boyfriend number 1
Moody, tall & grumpy
Heard he's got 8 kids
****** glad he dumped me.
Boyfriend 2 & 3
Interchangeable, doing battle
Fighting for my affections
****** tittle tattle.
Boyfriend 4 heartbreaker
Mastering his art
Olympic flirt, lothario
2 timing man **** ****
Boyfriend 5 flash Harry
A ladies man, so he reckoned
Metallic Ford Capri
He was gone in 60 seconds.
Boyfriend 6 & 7, Hammer Horror
How the **** did these begin
Beer goggles and cocktails
UGH! Just let me catch me skin.
Boyfriend 8 from Down Under
Bit angry, bit thick
James dean Lookey likey
Married him too quick.
Boyfriend 9, pious
Quiet nature boy
Once married grumpy ****
Terminated contract, lack of joy.
Boyfriend 10 professional
Public Sector, comprehensible
Politically correct lifestyle
He thought I wasn't sensible.
Boyfriend 11 is The Man
Mild mannered rampant ram
Sizzling hot attraction
He accepts me as I am.
Now the chase is over
Got him, Bingo, I've won
Hellfire he's got 5 kids
******* glad I've been done.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Tip
Of the tattle tellers tongue
Tenaciously Terse tales told
Tending to tea and tempting taboo
Jun 22, 2021
Jun 22, 2021 at 3:56 PM UTC
Don’t be fooled regarding one’s tongue,
for it has the power of life and death.
Before doubting these words of wisdom,
now pay attention and catch your breath…
before any more idle words touch the ground.
We are accountable for everything we say;
Therefore, remember to think before speaking,
since our reckonings will come on Judgment Day.
Consciously refrain from speaking evil curses,
knowing that God’s presence surrounds each soul.
Undisciplined tongues unwittingly spew their venom
and cause unseen damage with poisonous control.
A perverse tongue easily breaks the human spirit
and keeps evil, generational curses flowing.
Plentiful sins roll off the tongue in the forms of:
Gossiping, Tattle-telling, Slander, Lying and Boasting.
Instead, give praise concerning the good things of God;
speak life into situations, since healing can be attained.
the reliability of The Word can be assured, for…
its promises insure that ours lives can be sustained.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Prov 18:21; 1 Cor 4:20; Deu 32:47; 2 Pet 2:3; 1 Sam 3:19; Psa 12:6
Lev 19:16; Mark 4:14; Prov 15:4, 21:23; Jam 3:1-18; 2 Cor 5:10
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
And the trinity knocks with three pops from a filed glock
punched holes stack on forehead knots and a casket drops with dead bolt locks
but who inherits the robots
the cerebral talks
the spine shocks
letting me know of the plots and props of the surrounding city blocks and of the corrupted cops zooming in from distant rooftops
who never even heard the rasping hiss from the six murderous trigger flicks
put me in line behind the mimes to see the ****** therapists lyricist
who stares as time just slips between my fingertips and out our wrists
watches like shackles
circling cackles closing in to tackle these unholy tabernacles
the only battle is to herd the cattle to one spot and make the windows rattle
jig saw enemies wont tattle
like ashes on the mantle
like corpses beneath man holes
like smiling killers without handles
exposing my lyrical scandals
implored to explore the dragons lore they adore
even if my blood pours beneath the bathroom door
Abhorred
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
For one hundred days, we set sail without as much as one distraction.
But the skies open up,
the waves begin to groan.
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound,
and a wave broke over the railing.
The lost ship would not float again,
with tattered sails and opening seams,
and deck bestrewn with falling beams,
in the deep ocean it will remain.
I feel your fear and despair.
I was much farther out than you thought.
I scream but nothing, nothing will come out.
You’ve gone too far…..
Another nameless sailor’s ghost lost to the sea.
As the tide just sweeps and sways,
When will I find my way home?
Where is the shore-line?
Will this open water become my tomb?
Whoever told the sun to wake?
And whoever told the moon to clutch the sea?
Alone, yes alone, I may not survive.
The water’s getting so hard to tread
with these waves crashing over my head.
Just a hug could make me feel like I was never alone.
Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea.
I should have known the tides were getting higher.
I will fall asleep,
to close my eyes is to be at sea,
and live eternally, immortally.
There was never any way of going back to the old world with any sort of victory,
or good tidings of new discovery.
At sea I sail in the bellowing gale,
on my way to the end.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
dead babies.
college.
music.
clean.
***** house.
*****
linda.
gabe.
gabe's teeth.
gabe's ***** teeth.
school.
friends.
leaving.
new orleans.
new orleans.
change.
change.
very worried.
adderall.
drugs.
more adderall?
shower.
clean.
clean.
emoticons are kinda lame.
sleep.
sleep.
want more smarts.
want more dumbs.
dumb dun dun.
tittle tattle rattle pattle goo.
************
attention.
attention.
more please!.
your dumb.
that's a defense mechanism.
air:
more of.
less again.
stop that.
stop stopping that. stop stopping stopping that. think about clouds. what will it be like in a year?
maybe people think I have weird hand gestures. maybe I'm thinking about them so much that they look weird. maybe I'm thinking about thinking about them too much too much.
oh god, hum. sing. play around the room. something already.
Don't look at me you ************
go. back. ***
I'm sorry. stay. look around.
I love it when your around. Your really amazing.
Do you like me?
Stop calling me so much.
Hey call me. Can I call you?
What are you thinking about?
I'm tired. I can't sleep. will you talk to me about my problems. problems are dumb. I have too many problems in my little head! I can achieve EVERYTHING
Hold me! Stop asking me to hold you. hold me? hold you? hold hands? Don't touch my hands. stop looking at them.
no, just no. sleep. shower.
clean breaks. will make me brake.
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 1:29 PM UTC
What passing grief for those who fall in battle?
Only the merest murmur of the press
A paragraph between the tittle tattle
With all the latest news of someone's dress.
A soldier's single death is not dramatic
No bugle call, no serried rank and file
There's no glamour in stress that's post-traumatic
Compared to new pics of an actor's smile.
I never served in war. I have no right
To take the part of soldiers or their kin
But maiming, burning, death or loss of sight
Deserve attention and remembrance in
A land that still sends doomed youth off to fight;
A land obsessed with how stars get so thin.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 8:53 PM UTC
I woke up in the morning,
When it was storming,
-Then I heard the buds of May,
Rise up from the dead earth,
Giving life of rebirth,
Beneath that sky of gray,
I don't know why I did not hear,
The birds of April Sing,
I thought I heard them once before,
As I sat wondering,
I walked down the stairs then,
Into my kitchen,
Heard the raindrops fiercely fall,
Echoing the house through,
As the thunder then grew,
Sounding throughout my front hall,
I don't know why I stayed that day,
To hear the sounds of spring,
I should have left and gone away,
Instead I sit and sing,
But I know if I stay I can play
Off their flesh cocoon,
The flowers much display,
(I don't know why I did not laugh
before the end of day)
And though I stroll with the spring in my soul,
I can feel the life is beating I am whole,
(The beauty of the world is clear
a ringing of my prayer)
I went up to my window,
Where I heard the wind flow,
Softly brushing at the pane,
The glass began to rattle,
The sentimental-tattle
About the journeys of the rain,
I thought I heard my Mary shout,
To all the buds below,
"Bloom full the colors all about,"
"Through time you'll surely grow,"
With the seasons all changing through time,
Life will surely be to Heaven in its' prime,
(The wisdom of this earth I sing
in all the joy life brings)
For my darling we all have a part,
In the greener peaces of the "mother" heart,
(Lift all the sounds and then rejoice,
pump up your freedom-voice.)
I woke up in the morning,
When it was storming,
-Then I heard the buds of May,
Rise up from the dead earth,
Giving life of rebirth,
Beneath that sky of gray. ©
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
I’m outside and the air is so crisp it’s turned brittle
When I move, my hair cracks with electricity
As if with each step I take, I displace
And crinkle the wafer oxygen.
My hair, it is poised like a snapping electric halo,
And I think how many angels have also had feet
Which knew this frozen, frosty soil like mine do.
What a shame we could not have met and compared notes.
Above is a ceiling, nearer than people credit to be.
There is no navy shroud tonight,
Seasoned with the universe.
It is not even a black curtain,
But instead a piece of smoke fogged glass, graying.
Above the briery penthouses of the evergreen boundaries,
Against which the glass rests,
Is a blush of light, to the North, tattle of a city.
They call it light pollution, a lightening of the sky
Due to artificial, phosphorescent, perpetual pantomimes of noon: streetlights
And I see two electric halos,
One belonging to me
One the heavens,
And I think how funny that
Without the dry, horrid winter air,
or the residue of a wasteful city of men,
No halos would exist.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Robert told Olive
And Olive told Dee
That Emma likes Peter
But Peter likes me.
And Stephen saw Jamie
Tell Anna and George
That Vicky kissed Edward
And Clarence kissed Maude.
But Peter told Edward
And Edward told me
That Vicky saw Stephen
Tell Clarence and Dee
That Robert kissed Emma
So Anna told George
That Olive likes Jamie
But Jamie likes Maude
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
all the flakes on a *** tattle years
of gas, oil, matches
flames that spread vitriol
they swell into tickles on thin ribs
where old skin will one day ripple like mayo
over water
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
No time to Shilly or to Shally.
No time to Dilly or to Dally.
If all you’ve got is Tittle-tattle
I’ll just up and go Skedaddle.
Got no time for Hugger-Mugger
Won’t put up with Argy-bargy
Rigamarole will have to go
Outside to eat yellow snow.
ljm
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 6:03 PM UTC
I am a pillar of hate and greed, I steal what I want and I take what I need.
I assist with false hopes as I plant my seed, For I am a pillar of hate and greed.
Those cross imbeciles try to ruin my path, Though I cut them down with all of my wrath.
So this is to my friends and family and staff, If you **** with me you shall feel my wrath.
Don't confuse my games with self-righteous pride, It's behind these words I solemnly hide.
I take my wounds and move in stride, Though, again I stress, I do not live with pride.
From the base of jealousy it grows deleterious, As limp-minded city-folk pointlessly grow envious.
Futile lifestyles spending time so serious, When they're only growing more and more ****** envious.
The sound of a nation all heard in harmony, As they are broken in hope drowning deep in gluttony.
Cries left in silence though felt in agony, A colony of gluttony as our history's a piece of me.
With the thought of a loved one nothing less than a must, I've drowned in my pity, suffocated in lust.
Left alone in the damp, cold, dark to rust, Left alone to think, to dream in lust.
Through dried skin and sorrow and tattle-toned cloth, Comes the smell of a damper, more cattle-toned sloth. Cooking up and dying until stewed into broth, Everything's a chore for a dead-lazy sloth.
I am a pillar of hate and greed, I steal what I want and I take what I need.
I assist with false hopes as I plant my seed, For I am a pillar of hate and greed.
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 4:37 PM UTC