Blatherskite Poem by Philo Yan
Blatherskite
He speaks in a whisper
He rambles and pauses, long
I never seem to catch
the words he strings along
It spills out rapid
But his lips hardly move
in an unconscious habit
I wish he choose to behoove
from a long winded state
He might then get into groove
The more I listen the more I can't wait
to make an exit and a quick escape!
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense,talk,talking
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4/25/2024 5:44:53 AM # 1.0.0.1119
