My Poetry

Tongue Lashing


While my pen may be glib and debonair,
my tongue is a stumblebum, a nitwit and fool
Give me a writing tool, and I wax eloquent, yet
I hide in embarrassment when required to speak.
My mouth suddenly belongs to the enemy camp,
not sweet little me.
I’ve been told dyslexia is a vision disorder.
Yeah right!
Someone should tell that to my naughty tool of ignoble disgrace.
For, it’s plain to see,
my tongue and brain operate on different wave lengths,
and under the rigors of a space time warp simply too weird to be.
My mind hangs out at the Taj Mahal,
or Tahiti, or perhaps even Shangrila
While my tongue takes orders from some blind creature
transmitting in garbled Braille
from the deepest depths of the ocean blue.
Although, I’ve heard rumors it’s actually Poughkeepsie you see.
“Hello, how are you?” comes out,
“My big purple toe fell off my face.”
I know what I want to say,
but my tongue cannot find the words.
Truly, it must be out for a snack.
At best, I utter, “Bu, burble, goo…”
That’s fine for babies, but not for me.
It only behaves when wrapped around a stiff….
Well, perhaps that’s better left unsaid.
I think you get my drift.
Just give me a pen,
and I’ll write you a poem of epic proportion,
but…don’t ask me to utter more than two words together
and call it a sentence.
For you see, I will fail miserably.