"twiddling" poems
On Monday we met, our eyes fixated on one another, eager to know more
On Tuesday we talked, twiddling our thumbs, fidgeting in our seats, pondering on the right things to say
On Wednesday we hugged, your arms held me close, heartbeats in sync, I felt myself floating
On Thursday we kissed, our lips gravitated towards each other, like the moon and the sea, the connection was natural
On Friday we confessed, three little words wrapped around our ears,
forever tattooed in our minds
On Saturday you disappeared, no note, no call, no text
not a trace of you left that I could still hold on to
On Sunday I cried, my heart still beats, but never the same way,
would you ever give me a reason if I ever asked "Why?"
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge,
There are points of high silence-twiddling of thumbs is at an end-bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait-and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard.
A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances.
7.5k
When deciding whether it's better to
avoid
ignore
go numb
than to
feel
hurt
and cry
remember why.
Why you'd rather
work
talk
and clean
than
sit
lounge
twiddling thumbs.
Why you'd rather it
rain
snow
or be sunny
than
equilibrium
gray
with thin clouds.
Why
idle
steady
clean
hands are a sign of inexperience, and
sore
throbbing
tired
feet are worthwhile.
Remember
every
single
time
that you're only happy when it rains
but
sun
and cold
will never get old.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Today, for the first time, I looked at my mother. Really looked at her. I've been watching her for years. I know her habits, the way her face slackens when she's mad. I watch the way she is in the world and I know who she is, what she feels like, how she smells; but until today, I couldn't have told you what she looks like. She is beautiful. Breathtaking. It's Christmas and the house is warm, glowing, smells like food. We had company and she was flitting about, kitchen to couch, apron wrapped around her fancy dress. No stockings or shoes. She was waving her arms, twiddling her fingers around her wineglass, rubbing her feet together, always in motion. Her face slid so easily into a smile, creases outlining her happiness. Strong features: a big nose, defined chin, high cheekbones, easily visible because of her short hair. My mother is not a small woman, nor is she big, but she stands tall with broad shoulders, mine now the same, and her presence is colossal. I could see the 20 some year old that my father fell madly in love with. Gorgeous. Strong. But at the same time, so soft. Every part of her nurtures. I sat in awe, stunned that I had not noticed that she was once so much more than Mom. Still is.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Natural Rhythm.
Hey Mr. Guitar, keep on strumming them strings.
Then play me a song that will keep us all moving.
Keep all of the ladies, just a shaking their thing;
That will keep everybody in the room dancing,
To the natural rhythm.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my head.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm as I lay here in your bed.
Bounce to the rhythm of all of the drums.
The drumbeat booms against your chorus of twiddling thumbs;
Demanding your attention at the top of their voice.
The low beat shriek, as we bang on the drums.
Come on everybody and dance to the beat;
The natural rhythm, that flows through you and me.
The invisible hand, that guides our every step,
Makes you bounce to the beat of every word that I have said.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my head.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm as I lay here in your bed.
Keep on banging the drum to the sound of my rhythm;
Keep on dancing and keep on giggling.
Keep on keeping it real, for the people in the street;
Keep on keeping it banging, to the funkiest beat.
You see I got this natural rhythm, that’s in all God’s men
And you also got the rhythm in your head, in your head.
‘Cause the rhythm of my rhyme, will drop right on time,
As long as the sun is shining and I'm feeling irie eyed;
As long as the bongo’s keep on banging in the smoky background,
As long as to be rich, means more than acting the clown.
You see the rich get the women, because to be rich is to be a ****
And this is the best way to get the women.
Flash a *** of cash at the latest one you think is pretty;
Tell her you are loaded and pay her the money.
Buy the woman you like; moneys all that you've got.
I'm happy being poor; it's freedom at no cost.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my head.
I’ve got a natural rhythm in my heart and soul;
I’ve got a natural rhythm as I lay here in your bed.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
(AP) another tragic report today of snow mermaids resurfacing a phenomena of drastic blizzard conditions young men lost in blinding blowing winds that sends a person forging foreword then back a step are sightings of real or imagined snow nymphs naked gorgeous young women giggling frolicking through 8’ snow drifts arching limbs grinding hips twiddling fingers toes swaying long hair spreading thighs exposing privates pinching ******* pursing lips gesturing to be seduced beckoning into freezing snow entrapment eventually freezing victims into lifeless blue corpses only additional forensic evidence left behind are definite female snow angel signature tracks in surrounding snowfall areas since onslaught of February 1st storm strike 18 male bodies missing 13 bodies recovered all found grasping clutching clinging desirously to unknown source 5 men still missing if you suspect the whereabouts of any of these individuals please contact 911 authorities warn men of a certain age wear appropriate winter gear scarves raised hats lowered eyes squinting look away without delay if you think you are witness to one or more of these deadly snow mermaids GPS immediately to Police postscript in the several thousand years since these occurrences have been recorded not a single snow mermaid has ever been caught
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
They were like two peas in a pod
Holding hands
Exchanging tongues
Being prissy and laughing at those
Who long before saw their act
Though those two queers, they don’t see at all
They are midgets, and little, and erectly small
With puffed up chests
Stroking hens of the Cornish variety
All of them dregs of a social society
Slum lords and criminal minds
Under the sheets where no one sees
Which one is giving the other the shaft
**** and span they use after, oh so daft
One erotically whispered to the other
A Pain in the ***
As they kissed over their biblical wine glass
Seeking solace in each others arms
Licking their wounds with grammars charm
Grown men, committing sin after sin
Then blaming others for saying
God wants you to begin
Acting like men
And not emancipated boys
Stop diddling and twiddling
Leave alone your petite toys
One day Jehovah will make clear
Belittle others is worse than Queer
Little queens swallowing their own vile
While Ladies and Gentleman laugh
At the ****** and the Clown
In their lingerie and gown
God decried, let those two drown
Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
With guilt writ all over your face,
Twiddling your fingers just like you would
When as a little child
You'd make some mistake,
Shuffling your feet nervously
Like you would when you'd fail a test
Or get a note from school,
You stood in front of me,
My precious, my beautiful,
Who I'd caught hidden under the quilt,
Head buried beneath pillows,
Crying muffled cries of pain.
You finally made eye contact, I know
You waited for my trademark eye roll
For an admonishment, for a
"See, I told you so!"
But dear, before you declared me
As your fiercest enemy, did you ever wonder
That you, the girl- broken, shaken, yet defiant,
Once lived inside of me?
Love created you
And for the following thirty seven weeks
And twenty two
Days you grew within me,
Bit by bit, cell by cell,
Each moment we spent together,
Sealed our souls,
We were best friends even before you were born.
I'd be lost, forlorn all day at work
When I'd leave you behind at home,
You too would find contentment when finally
You'd feed from your mother's *****
I've seen you crawl,
Seen you stumble,
Helped you on your feet when you'd fall,
I've laughed when you've cackled,
I've cried when you have shed a single tear,
I'm a being conjoined to every emotion you feel,
So, my Inaayat dear,
Instead of crying behind closed doors,
And saying "It's okay" without
meeting my gaze,
You should've walked up to me,
Informed me about the time and place,
And mother-daughter, we'd embark
To bash up that ruthless villain
Who broke your delicate heart.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
I have always loved you.
I imagine us 30 years down the road.
I am massaging your shoulders,
relieving knots.
Life gets me in knots too.
I've put the kettle on
I have my own key now so I come and go as I please
like the old friend I've become.
I feed your cat when you go away at weekends.
Smelling your pillow
Remembering you at 40.
Your dressing table
as I pictured it.
I have my own family now
but I met you 10 years before I met my wife.
I rode the wave of your smile,
came crashing down
the day you announced you'd met someone,
holding out for the real thing.
For; I was just a boy,
what could I deliver apart from newspapers
and the odd dodgy innuendos? you laughed at
tossing your hair.
Humouring me
but,
Never letting on that you cared.
I slip away every second night
when the second hand rests between the 8 and the 9
and it is quarter to 10.
I am on my way to see you.
We play cards and toast a drink into midnight.
Sometimes I reach for your delicately aged hand
twiddling with your rings,
knowing mine would have been the sparkly one.
But not a patch on you.
We lock eyes for around a minute,
My throat is dry.
Telepathically I tell you
I have always loved you.
Whether you are 45 or 75
I will always love you.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Have you heard about your hands,
how they’re the devil’s play things?
When entwined with my fingers
we cradle til numb, fine friction from
a twiddling thumb; graceful extremities
fondling every surface covering,
generating and extracting energies
With a hover they raise the dead
cells on my flesh and walk the sacred
space of nerve-endings with a trace
and trails of my racing heart
They’re smooth and soothe wounds
that can’t be spoke, knocking at
my teeth to wrestle my tongue
seducing me from the inside
Your hands are the tools
of your trade, skilled to persuade
and bade time--for it doesn’t exist
Unable to resist your palms upon me,
pockets of warmth radiating heat,
I relish in the sin of wanton skin
waiting to play with fire again
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
It’s is a rope, with the strongest of fibres
that holds me together and can unthread and tear me apart,
it replaces my bones and makes me limp.
It makes me fold into myself as I walk -
are people staring at me?
Coiling so very tightly
twisting and turning and tying,
tying me up, forcing me to my knees.
Cuts deep into my foundation -
they’ve spread too far.
Rapid breath intakes, sweaty palms
my heartbeat is deafening, faster faster,
punching through my chest as I walk down the street.
I just need to get to the end
yet I always fail and f a i l more.
Trying not to let my weak body collapse me.
trying not the let the sheets smother me.
trying not the let the rocks squash me.
trying not to let the fingers strangle me.
trying not to let the words define me.
It’s like a ***** that holds my world together
there not point trying to look, you cant find it,
yet when I’m in public it comes loose.
I prepare to run as
the sky crumbles around me.
The ***** is so small you cannot tell it lay inside me
it’s so delicate so don’t look at me closely,
or you can see it in the twiddling in my fingers.
The dilated pupils and panicked expression.
Choose. Fight or flight?
I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed
trying to keep it inside and hidden as to keep it a secret,
it’s like a wave trying to break towards the shore.
Like somehow, it’s never going to stop
so I keep sinking and sinking and nobody can tell.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Fiddle dee fiddle dum,
layin' around twiddling my thumbs.
'Cuz why?
'Cuz this is the boredom song.
Schoobie schoobie scoobie doo,
I have nothing fun to do.
So I am just going to sing some silly tunes.
El buro sabe mas a tu.
A donkey knows more than you.
Yes I'll even sing some silly spanish too.
While the cow jumps over the moon,
and the jungle cat climbs around the room.
Chaos is my middle name,
just today is such an average day.
Nothing seeming to go my way.
Thst id something I must change
no more of this being a ***
fiddly dee dee dum.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
Silent sighs pour into my coffee
Fingers tap a cigarette
Toes tap to a beating drum
One. Two. Three. Stop.
His eyes shift around the room
Sorting faces with forgotten names
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Twiddling thumbs and nervous laughs
Thoughts so random they hardly last
Violent scribbles on fragile paper
Secrets exchanged through rushing whispers
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Blank stares and feigned concern
Everyone searching: for truth
Everyone suffering: writers block
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 10:59 AM UTC
Someone, somewhere believes that they love someone in the same way I love you.
Someone, somewhere is watching their first movie together & are waiting in the queue.
Someone, somewhere is celebrating their first moment of holding hands.
Someone, somewhere is politely accepting the other’s whims and commands.
Someone, somewhere is experiencing the rush of many butterflies twiddling in their stomach.
Someone, somewhere is kissed for the first time & is profoundly dumbstruck.
Someone, somewhere is being captivated by their thrilling dreams.
Someone, somewhere is waking up to screams.
Someone, somewhere is sharing their last kiss with the thought of no longer being together.
Someone, somewhere is wrapping their anniversary gift to spend many more years forever.
Someone, somewhere is watching an extraordinary sunset with no one by their side.
Someone, somewhere is cracking up, laughing on the stupid antics of a child.
Someone, somewhere is caught between falling in love with themselves and wishing they were someone else.
Someone, somewhere is packing their bags to see the world with someone else.
Someone, somewhere is dancing to ecstasy to the first text message of their crush.
Someone, somewhere is whispering sweet nothing’s to someone else. Someone, somewhere just blushed.
Someone, somewhere is staring at the peaceful face of the person sleeping by their side.
Someone, somewhere is awake the whole night to just watch this.
Someone, somewhere is pondering on the worth of their eyes, if it wasn't to see this.
Someone, somewhere is bleeding blank sheets, penning words that fail them.
Someone, somewhere just opened their eyes to a new landscape, a new sun.
Someone, somewhere is saying a new hello. Someone, somewhere is bidding an old goodbye.
Someone, somewhere is killing their flesh, their soul is with someone else.
Someone, somewhere is desperately wishing, craving with every petal of a red rose they throw, or tearing their eyelashes and renouncing it in the air, crossing the fingers of their left hand, then their right hand or stargazing on a starless night in a hope that a star will fall and they can pray for their some-one.
Someone, somewhere thinks they love someone else exactly like I love you.
Someone, somewhere is entirely wrong.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
I watch the world from a mari-go-round twirling in circles twiddling my thumbs
Falling from the piercing thunders in the sky full of lust and deception
Silence was the enemy
My ADHD can't deny the boredom of the same old routine hindering my existence
Am I worthless?
The shallow waters awaken my dream of rainforests and other pleasant things
And reality is in the forecast with partly cloudy skies
If only it were night forever than I could be most anything
My imagination takes me further then any aircraft ever could
So I dare the challenge of the never-ending; if forever could bare the soul
I would be proof of history when I do conquer the world
Defeat is not an option
If superman existed, he would win and so can I and so can you
I do know dreams come true
There are Oscars and gold medals and soldiers overcoming death
There are angels and saints saving us from ourselves
There are wars and heroes and bad guys as well
The devil does exist but God sees them as angels who fell
I believe there is glory and freedom and peace
It mustn't just be in my head full of dreams
I will show you there is evidence if the good in the world
When your vulnerable and naive there is more than meets the eye
There are things out there you are meant to triumph if you put your best foot first
And the circles in your creating will align and amount to you, in the perfect sense of harmony in a cold and grey and cynical universe
There is yellow, there is blue there is gold but we are red
But the colors you attract to are not affirmation
You are priceless, immeasurable and incomparable even so
A savage in the heat of battle, simmering to boil
You're a warrior with the rest of them, with a stunning biography
You are destined to create glory sublime in the phenomenon of impulse and heart
Constructing immaculate stories to fill the pages of a book
We are gifts from above,
This can't all be in my head
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
Your hand in mine, twiddling
the silver around my right
ring finger. The point
of the heart faced out,
in hope you'd turn it
toward my wrist. Your mouth
brushes mine. You take it off,
examine the stamp - "925."
Slide it back on, the crown faced up,
the hands mirror ours,
clasped
around my heart. I wonder
if my father knew
what it would mean to me
when he passed it on.
I wonder if he knew
I'd fall for a boy
and this ring would twist my mind in folds,
you're a menace, a silversmith
you solder my mouth shut.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
To pick my brain
I'll just lay here
Have some pins and needles
It's so fun walking on them
Reeling
Like a kick right to the feels
In my heart
In my soul
Or, maybe my nuts
As I grow old
I've grown more cold, to the terror
It whittles away
and I simply admire it, vacantly
It happens on the daily
Change the ******* channel
Every morning I look in the mirror
And tell myself, "Life's a **** **** it."
You **** that **** duderocketship.
Filthy *****
Bawling my eyes out
With a coat of smeared lipstick
streaking my face
It's my birthday.
What a beautiful day for nuclear holocaust
Good a day as any, I reckon
To wine and dine on a feast of destruction
While the world spontaneously combusts
Somebody hand me a beer
And we'll scale my collapsing cognitive function
With a middle finger to The Man!
I got a whole fist I'd fancy to ****** inside him
This end of the world clock is broken
and keeps ticking
And I just listen
Tick tick tock
Waiting for the bomb
Losing hope
Idly twiddling my thumbs
To go out with a bang is my lone desire
It rattles my bones
Set the world on fire
Light up the night
I just want to watch it burn
There's a pretty nice view
from my back porch
Replacing the stars with torches
Scorching a ravaged sky
It's a party
****** Gandhi, & The Pope are coming
Bring your friends
I'm cringing yet effervescent
In supple prepubesence
His dead eyes ****** me
Jesus wept
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Toes twiddling, fingers fiddling,
the wait goes on,
and on,
and on.
People passing, mind lapsing,
I wait,
and wait,
…and wait.
Bags surround me, how long will they be?
Seconds slowly tick
tock,
tick
tock.
Night falls, time crawls, in it for the long haul.
Bag carrier, hero warrior.
Shop to shop - it never stops.
True martyr, it’s in the charter.
Next week, same again? Can’t wait, glad I came.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
my legs are twitching with the need to run
to chase a moment, a year,
a lifetime that’s slipping away.
my hands are numb, fingertips brushing
working on autopilot,
following the logic
of things that need to be done
before anything can happen.
my body,
it’s exploding.
waves crashing inside me
yearning, urging, and tearing
at my stationary being,
at my hollow bones attached to tried muscle
and tired skin.
psychologically imploding
with the need to live
and breathe
and do.
experience.
but i’m trapped in this prison of a cultureless culture
in these shackles of people, zombified,
telling me what i can and can’t be
bound to the ground
by the word no;
darling you can’t,
darling you’re too young,
darling you’re trapped,
darling you can’t leave,
darling, you’re stuck.
and with my lips aflame,
trying to release my need to be,
when i simply can’t be,
not yet.
my body, it’s rotting.
twiddling my thumbs,
until life is allowed to start.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 9:51 PM UTC
Summoned at an elevation of a height
The ensuing plodding gloomy twilight,
and sweet sound of the night cricket
denoting yet another moment
of Peace after the bust,
from the twiddling day in haste,
now the full Moon smiles in glee
in a split second above the fig tree
Tally-Ho!!...the startling howl of the fox in the dark at three…
Scintillating tales about Angels of the night…
Dazzling as emerald gemstones
Speaking to awakening sons of men to affirm…
The third unseen soothing divine presence
Basking in the resplendent mysterious
Peace of dusk grandeur…..
Kenneth Muhumuza.
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 3:57 AM UTC
You're twiddling your thumbs,
Tugging on your shirt.
I see you break
Into a cold sweat.
Watch your knees shake,
I know you're nervous.
And you radiate unsure
But you just breathe,
Until the twitching stops.
Calm down a little,
Say what you planned.
Four most dangerous words
In the English language,
We need to talk.
My turn to worry.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
I'm not sure how this works
Out, you and me,
All twiddling thumbs and
Awkward hair twirls unsure
How to properly
Spit
Out a greeting,
"Oh hello."
And what comes after,
And what should come after.
We try our best to
Veer away from each other,
Afraid that the other would
Smell the
Rancid blue cheeses on
Our tongue,
Or the cliches displayed for all to see,
Like spinach in our teeth.
So we nod.
Slowly.
Abruptly.
With chin up and hair
Tangled somewhere behind
Our ears,
Hopefully.
And ice breakers stale
In the backs
Of our jeans pockets.
Noses crinkling in
Silent prayer as to
Never have to ask the person
"Sooo, how's the weather" or
"Sooo, how much does a polar bear weigh?"
(Enough to break the ice, by the way.)
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Sometimes she whispers,
A soft spoken word that soothes the skin,
A melody that cools third-degree burns,
A tear that drowns a sea of sorrow.
Her melodrama is contagious, infectious, and mesmerizing.
She sits at the red diner, twiddling her thumbs,
And you notice her downtrodden eyes.
You grab a sharpie and write on her hand,
"Loneliness is not a function of solitude,
And you'll never have to be alone."
She smiles as she interlocks her arm with yours.
And the result is pure ecstasy.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 3:31 AM UTC
I'm becoming her
The girl who sits anxiously
Waiting for him to reply
Smiling at the texts he sends
And laughing at his jokes
I'm becoming her
Twiddling my thumbs when he is on my mind
Sighing when I realize how much I miss him
Wishing he could be here by my side
Wishing I could just reach out
Grab him by the head
And kiss him
Right on the lips
For the first time
I'm becoming her
The girl who's afraid of being seen
And he's looking right at her
Staring straight at her soul and
He's smiling
I'm becoming her
The girl who reaches out
To touch him
To prove that he's just an imagination
To prove that she made it all up in her head
I'm becoming her
The girl who realized that this is real
The girl that finally understands how she feels
I'm becoming her
The girl that likes him.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
I put a baby inside
Of the belly of my Bonney lass bride
Twice
Say the ****** covered by placenta
Looking through her *** to deaths eye
She may live he may die
He may live I'll lose my wife
Through the cream pie I stare down death
Between her ***** holds hemorrhage and life
Bleeding down her c-section
The acreted blood sac could cause infection
Already has
My baby gave multiple blood poisoned hits to her kidney
He's already a fighter I think he'll beat me up. He's going to come out with bigger boots than mine, prolly a bigger ****
Hope they both make it.
I can't fix it
My hands are tied in the cervical opening, my minds wrapped in the emboli cal cord, and my fingers are twiddling thumbs nauseously in Beccas ******
I should take Lornhes place in the amniotic fluid and gag myself in the fetal position
Or I could do what no one does these days.
Be a man of character.
Show him passion, knowledge, courage, and integrity.
Be a Father.
P.S. Son. All dads are letdowns, when you read this one day. I hope I have done my best. I Love You.
Lendon Partain
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC