Best Bark Poems
Olive’s Cinnamon Bark
It took her some while to sense the meaning of feeling good in her skin
Her mirror her prism her mosaic glass and the mist on the crystal of time
At first it had appeared to project a tarnished reflection of yesteryear’s
Cinnamon Bark of Youth
A silver hair dropping its flair onto laughter lines and sorrow grooves
The imager an hour glass of pleaded messages to tempt with gloss and mask
To stifle the miracle silken touch with unkind uncalled for varnished perplexion’s
Olive Shine of Middle Age
Still a child at heart tanned by weather of challenges growth blissfully wild
Perception perspective’s inclusion recovered beauty never lost but adorned
With garnished collection of scent’s senses and unspoken images to become
Acorns of Seniority
27 March 2018
I looked behind me when I heard a squeaky little bark
From out of the bushes, a kangaroo-looking creature rose
His bright green eyes flashed neon signs at me in the dark,
then he raised his long piggy snout and struck a silly pose.
"Have you escaped from the zoo to wander in the park?"
His bunny ears flopped before he wiggled long-clawed toes.
He replied, "No. I'm looking for ants cuz I'm an aardvark."
I invited him to join me for dinner at the café, Java Joes.
^-^ - ^-^
8-20-17
I'm a flower tickler
with a flower tickler's thumb
like my dog before me
although he's more of a philanthropist
than a poet, but, like him, I too bark
my greenery of colours when needed
and tickle flowers
Dad's bark is worse than his verse.
When he hits it doesn't really hurt.
The dirt outside the house is soil.
The mouse inside the house is life.
Can't escape the printer or the car, IV
bag, heart monitor, a billion trillion stars.
Snow descends, each flake unique.
My sons' friends, each infinitely
a Greek or Trojan hero. Our morals:
hit not the girls, nor rape. Love more
than you are loved, by a little. Give
but stop before it hurts. Stand together
or fall apart. Which candidate you vote
for less important than to vote. Don't
depend or dote on leaders, housekeeper
and president are gods equally
remote. The human body is a thing of
bone, a strange upright animal, and the
telephone a mystery to other animals.
Everyone and everything is spinning
electrons and the space between.
A great crunch, inverse of big bang,
yr big sister told.
There was a young dog
he got lost in a fog
He couldn't get home
all night he continued to roam
When the fog cleared
there were things that he feared
He started to bark
he was scared of the dark
Now he's back home and having some fun
he and his owner just back from a run
Birkenrinde / Birch Bark / Corteza de abedul (Haiku)
Die Birkenrinde
Wie hell sie so schön erstrahlt
Im hellen Lichtschein
The bark of birches
Shines so beautifully bright
In clear sunlight
Corteza de abedules
Tan maravillosamente brilla
En clara luz del sol
Dog bark
Tree bark
Dogwood tree bark
dogs bark - -
a hedgehog curls up
into a ball
I like tree bark
Like to climb up it
With shoes with metal spikes
And cuffs with sharp hooks
I see a bird's nest
With eggs that are blue
I count five or six
It's a robin's kin
If I fall down hard
From this mighty height
I will crush a limb
I will hold on tight
As I am here surrounded by the Numbness
of tree trunks - still and nameless in the breeze -
A Willow weeping crystals of uncertain
Bombarding a century that does not belong to me
But I AM here surrounded by the people
who blindly thrust my chest and leave the broken thorns
and no one cares when mutilating names of lovers
How hurtful is when carving in immortality of bark...
copyright@iolandascripca2012
Why Dogs Bark
Dora and Gora the twin stood shoulder to shoulder
Gave blood and sweat for each other .
They worshiped mostly God, their father and mother,
Bought an acre of land, and ploughed crops to bear .
They became richer as poor parents grew older ,
Soon got married, brought home new treasure,
Found no time, they ran after money and butter;
Enough money why not two mansions for better.
Named Dora and Gora, parents pushed to corner .
The old hearts shed tear to grow poorer than older
Two sons claimed to serve them better than better
The feud separated the love, grew fiercer and faster.
To take guard of mansions duo, father and mother
Got separated, forgot man and woman if one lover
Ribs broken to join two, broke like wooden batter
Dora fed father, Gora fed mother to make them thinner.
Fence divides brothers, fence makes good neighbor,
Between fence Dora and Gora lived like neighbor;
Treasure neighbor’s envy, women’s pride ever
Leaves, branches and air denied cross the fence higher
The ribs creaked, tears hardened like soil in summer
Cry of the poor was heard no more, died out the lover
Fence killed brother, fence made neighbor;
Bought only enemies to save the fence for ever.
Fought to divide and own the fence thick layer,
How can a fence belong to two, a clash turned fiercer,
Two brothers cut each other’s head in fury and anger
Devoted wives prayed God and fasted without water.
God was pleased to grant bliss as supreme savior,
Said ,’Done’ but done with human life for ever;
Loved to grant them a new name ‘Dog‘ very clever,
Dear to ladies, with a bend end to bark at his brother.
Paper spiders everywhere
Crawling through pinholes in my brain
Cutting the corners of my mouth
Tartaric taste curls my tongue
Forming words I would never say
An inferno of verbs
Flying through gutted roots
It’s warm butter to a blade
Until the right ones land and spread
That's when they begin to ricochet
You’re only hurting yourself.
That’s what they tell me anyway
I’m a dirt digging plant
Living in the embers of memories
That took decades to slowly fade
Put out in tiny doses
On a slow drip of acid rain
It’s the smell of melting gospel
Revealing monstrosities
Awoken from pits of smothered rage
It’s inhumane
To mistreat animals like this
Yet they do nothing
As innocence is stripped away
Some of us still live in cages
Gnashing teeth
Snapping necks at the end of chains
Some of us still live in the embers
Feeling a burn that never fades
I’m recording scars in tree rings
As bark covers wounds with age
Building cages for the demons
Nesting in my conjured rage
A drop of sunshine broadens the ground and shines
like a coal upon the blazing street. And I am enjoying
the last of the wine which tastes as good as the
tree bark shoved into my heart.
The brown of the tearless eyes corrupt the message
swooshing from the lips. I am the growing river
which slides like a storm into the shore. Some
voices cry against the wind, others shout in
support of it.
I am neither for or against anything.
A crucifix dangles from my neck. It was a
gift from the children. They grow up so quickly.
They grow up like weeds
which have flowered despite the thistles and thorns.
They call them wild-flowers. They call them uncontrolled.
They define them in a multitude of labels so that
confrontation can be erased.
I am as defined as the next man, as shapeless in my
exterior as a dripping candle sloshing wax
into a plate.
A letter waits for me in my former mailbox. I understand
it contains the fabric of my thoughts. I cannot imagine
such a mailing, and one defined for me alone.
Stick a needle in the arm. Drive a wedge between
the heart. Life is a process of adjusting, of
correcting attitudes which do not comply
with the flavoured faces of the
people hiding in the dust.
I am forgiving but not forgiven. I am silent
in my loudness which becomes my armour
against the nestled carpet of denial.
Not so delicate
Scratchy surface of wood bark
Unlike plain paper
What we have to write
We put on the smooth surface
Of paper not bark
Very glamorous
Bark of a lovely birch tree
Best over paper
Russell Sivey
The night was dark, in the park when I heard a bark
then a ringing bell, blood curdling yell straight from Hell
A loud clunking sound from the ground had me spellbound
by the ploys of the noise, but still maintained my poise.
I shed a tear from fear, but there was no one near.
No hand to hold, when I felt so cold, then behold!
Revealed, what had thus been concealed, an old airfield
Two ghostly planes and blood stains, wings secured by chains
The thump sound was a pump used to clean out the sump
The barking ceased. Time to feast, or a brew, at least!
August 20, 2020
Keen Observation I Poetry Contest
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