Best Patchy Poems
I was born into a world that does not see me.
My body tells the story of absence;
The hollow of my stomach,
The jagged outline of my ribs,
My fur, patchy and damp.
I learned quickly that to want is to be ignored,
And to ache is to exist.
As a puppy, I thought someone might see me.
I thought if I wagged my tail hard enough,
If I tilted my head just right,
The world might open its hands.
But it did not.
It only ever closed its fists,
Turned its back,
And left me with scraps,
Too spoiled to taste.
Now I roam alleys slick with rain,
My nose pressed against the cold pavement.
The air sharp with the tang of rust,
The faint sweetness of a bruised apple
Rotting in the dark.
Even the light avoids me
Street Lamps flicker,
Shadows curl against my skin,
Like they, too, are ashamed.
I am no monster,
Though that's how the world perceives me.
I am just a dog that takes up too much space,
Whose hunger speaks louder than it ever should.
And yet, I keep searching.
I follow the smell of bread I will never taste,
The sound of footsteps I will never reach.
I chase voices that don't belong to me,
Hoping they might turn and see me,
Hoping they might call for me.
They do not.
So I sit beneath a streetlamp that sputters and hums,
And I imagine what it would feel like,
To have the weight of a hand on my head,
The sound of love spoken softly in the dark,
A belly heavy with food,
The sharp edges of my ribs fading into softness.
I close my eyes and imagine,
And for a moment,
I am full.
Categories:
patchy, angst, animal, beautiful, grief,
Form:
Free verse
The fire pit has been made
The kindling has been laid
The match was put to the dry, dry wood
And the flames began to play
The fire now is burning bright
The coffee pot is on
It is the way to start the day
On this cloudy, misty morn
The quiet of the darkened night
Flowed back thru greyish mounds
The moon was playing hide and seek
With drifting wispy clouds
A shadow blanketed the camp again
Closing out the morning light
The breeze then chased a leaf down hill
Like a windblown handmade kite
The icy hued moon was sliding
It soon would leave our sight
The hope for sun should soon come about
From this sharp and frosty night
And from the sky quite unexpectedly
Came rain drops as big as grapes
It pattered through the shroud of trees
A whooshing sound it makes
The raindrops hit the burning logs
With a hissing reptile sound
That caused an apparition of pure-white smoke
To eerily hug the ground
As fast as the rain began to fall
It just as quickly did dismiss
And lanching shafts of sunlight
Replaced the lingering patchy mist
The sleepy woodlands did then awake
To the grandeur of a brand new dawn
And flitting through that peerless sky
The birds began their morning song!
Categories:
patchy, april,
Form:
Rhyme
The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze. A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the windy noise its yellow
across my face. The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence. A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around. A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs. Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck. Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine. The trees --
appearance. Altogether so. Oh well.
Quiet. Steady. Sturdy. Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.
Categories:
patchy, allegory, angst, depression, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
5/20/17
Regardless of if I never get to see or reach the grand finale
Doing not too shabby
I may not exactly
Be all that happy
Yet when things turn out badly and sadly
Can't stay feeling crappy
Memory occasionally somewhat foggy and patchy
Not trying to be too wacky
Or flashy
Just want to be more crafty
Handy
And canny
Take care of my granny
And the rest of the family
Stock up the pantry
Pour them some brandy
And buy some domestic and foreign candy
Serve them food first and myself lastly
And appreciate the simple things, not just what is fancy
Near and far from any valley
As well as waters with or without algae
I am not familiar with necromancy
And have no idea if we are related to chimpanzees
Categories:
patchy, appreciation, creation, poetry, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
How can so few have so much -
so many have so little?
I am rich beyond belief
yet am not considered rich.
I count my riches daily:
the warmth of heart and
home, the patchy grass,
faded paint, rock garden
(each stone rolled by
my hands). The heart,
she waves to me each morning
as I leave for work,
greets me on returning.
Other hearts, now scattered,
not too far away yet never
near enough, have left their
emptiness to fill the rooms.
I sit, well clothed, warm, and
free. I am ever grateful for
this freedom, freedom to be,
freedom to be me, to love,
to sing, to speak my mind,
to write with passion of
passion. And yet I ache for
those who know not freedom,
nor peace, nor joy, nor a
day of Thanksgiving. I cry for
children who will not be
fed, nor cared for - not because
there is lack of caring - but
because the caring lacks
the backbone of freedom,
the hand of compassion,
the hope - of Thanksgiving.
John G. Lawless
11/28/2013
Categories:
patchy, thanksgiving, thanksgiving day,
Form:
Free verse
Ever daunting,more eccentric is what is left of me
There is no goodness left in me to see.
The roads have become patchy
Quite rough and vague
Because there is no good left for any risks to take.
No happiness,no wonders, no zeal along
There is only tenpramental aloofness which is meant to be wrong
The place has become cold
There is no heart for any feelings to hold
The place once blossomed with dalias and dashes
But there is no love left at which one gazes
No signs for existence
No signs for any persistence.
You can't follow your dreams here
Because there is nothing left but ghostly screams of fear
The place is unhabited,a never opened gift
Which once was meant for the love to lift.
No memories,no softness is left around,
There is this boundless sky and a beligerant ground.
Categories:
patchy, absence, age, creation, life,
Form:
Rhyme
" Lord I woke this moring with the words lost sheep on my mind "
" OH! what do you think it meant? "
" well I pictured myself as a sheep in the meadow where the grass is dry, patchy and bare "
" Oh! what happened then? "
" well Lord i turned round and all the other sheep were no longer there "
" where did you think they could have gone? "
" I thought they might of been thirsty and maybe went to find a brook
so I thought I would go and take a look "
" thats good what did you find? "
" I found a stream but the other sheep were on the other side
but I could not get across as the stream was far too wide "
" OH! what did you do then ? "
" I began to wonder what to do
then I heard a voice come out of the blue. "
" What did the voice say ? "
" the voice said do not fear don't dispare
I will help you cross over there
then a kind man appeared out of nowhere "
" what did the kind man do ? "
" He gently carried me across to where the pastures are Green
and the other sheep asked me where I had been "
" Thats great! what was your reply? "
" I told them that I was in the meadow
LOST and all alone
then the kind mans voice said
" my lost sheep welcome home "
" Great you have got it "
" Sorry Lord I am lost now"
" Yes dear you were once lost but now you are found "
" You no longer have to wander in the meadow all alone
for I am the good shepherd that always brings my lost sheep back home. "
No matter how bad our life has been the Lord always brings us lost sheep back to where the
pastures are green, never will he leave you never will he forsake you. to anyone who is lost
Just ask the Lord to show the way home he will come and fetch you. Amen. to anyone who
feels Lost God will find you and bring you home.
Diane Christian
Categories:
patchy, home, lost, me, voice,
Form:
Rhyme
As I ride through the desert
miles on miles of sand I see
Where's the beauty in the desert ?
Why it's, the camel under me
Some think them ugly
Of all the beast,
that dwell upon the earth
I see another deeper beauty
based on what the camel's worth
The hairy pads, on his knees
let him kneel upon hot sand
and His large flat feet look funny
But let him stand upon soft land
His eyes are big, his ears are small
His nose moves on his face
He has a hump high on his back
and seldom walks with grace
With patchy hair and long thin legs
He's sure a sight to see
The only beauty in the desert
I'm glad He's here with me
For every attribute he has
is suited for the sand
and God provided me with Him
So I'd survive this land
Categories:
patchy, africa, appreciation, beautiful, best
Form:
Rhyme
Along the dampened and rutted way
The dew lay thick upon the clay
As sunshine broke the morning mist
The leaves still damp received God's kiss
A kaleidoscope of color
Greeted my every twist and turn
From the mighty towering oak
To the little emerald fern
For nestled neath this copse of trees
An untold beauty welcomes me
The many flowers in this half-light of dawn
Stretch forth their heads as if to yawn
As morning light shines upon my way
The squirrels and chipmunks come out to play
The sunlight dapples thru the trees
Its light awakens the birds and bees
The chirping of their melodic song
Tells all around there's nothing wrong
Thru patchy light they take to wing
As nearby frogs their croaking sing
Somewhere a pond reflects the light
And mirrors all the birds in flight
I step from dark to a white washed sky
Eternally grateful to be alive
And from that pond, a meandering brook
Enticing me to have a look
And as it gurgles through rolling hills
God's beautiful creations give me the chills
And if this stroll comes to an end
My legacy to you is what I'll lend
Belief in God is truly pure
With Him His beauty will endure
Categories:
patchy, earth, religious,
Form:
Rhyme
irregular around the boundaries
patchy emotions in play
I remain the keystone
290720111520
Categories:
patchy, introspection, life,
Form:
Kimo
-
Remember the day you helped to display a picture of a Mexican Mother
She was swaddled in blankets of orange brown wraps and holding
her new born babe.She looked out of a shuttered window across a
laboured vineyard with unconditional love. Her eyes saw an evening
sky that glowed and ebbed beautiful shades of autumn reds.
The picture sat on the wall above our new crib beside our bed.Our
new baby's crib. Baby Katy. Black hair just as in the picture I'm sure.
A new patchy red skin of unbelivably vunerablility and loved so
much by both of us. She would russell away all night. No sleep to be
had but thoughts of love all day at work.
I see you wife now so many years later as that Mexican Mother. And
loved you that way. And as for my daughter I see you as then too.
I can by pass your demands now.Demands unreasonable and biased.
You will return one day with that loving effect on me. You will understand
when an adult. My second daughter arrives later just the same way.
Categories:
patchy, family, children, day, daughter,
Form:
Narrative
Like shadows dancing in the night
The reflection of your heart
Was playing hide and seek on her face
She didn't have to pretend
She could be herself
Broken; even a little bruised
But she had it all on display
Not to garner sympathy
She wanted to revel in all her parts
Especially those that made her want to hide in the past
She could feel every emotion
She could smile again and she felt complete
Even if it looked patchy at times
She recognized her past was just that; her past
She didn't have to carry that label anymore
Every day was an opportunity to do it differently
Just by showing up and embracing the new day
She could build on loving everything all over again
Like being hurt; never crossed her path
©070620161604
Categories:
patchy, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
Excuse me please pass the salt
Excuse me please pass the salt,
I am out of luck hit by a lightning bolt,
I am sitting here quiet around this desk,
Thinking about which escape route is best.
It's a blind date set up by others,
Not someone you take home to mothers.
I cannot move I cannot speak,
The duck I am eating still has a beak,
I feel almost sick I feel almost weak,
The feeling is real our future together looks bleak.
Send me the cheque let me leg it now,
I am tired of dinner need to get this some how.
He's quite a bit older by the look of his skin
The stuble is patchy on his chin.
I nose dive into my soup,
He's spilled his food onto his suit.
I want to hide I want a simple good night,
A run in the other direction the no end in sight.
They bring out first course second and third,
We sit in silence not saying a word.
He's not my type or even a maybe,
He sucks his fingers to enjoy the gravy,.
Ok I am totally and utterly unimpressed.
The night was left ruined I wore my best dress.
I need a rest I am exhausted and drained.
This night will never be the same.
Ken you will never be my man I say,
I will always be Barbie in every way.
Mum calls me and I drop my dolls shhh i say it's in the vault
As barbie passes ken the salt.
Categories:
patchy, funny love,
Form:
Rhyme
Mingle with mounts,wander arid desert sands
seep into seas,lie lone o'er unknown lands
replicate waves of myriad mirrors flowing below
stand on meadows high engulfing green bands
innocent smiling children, gaze in delighted awe
at tufts tickling kites with a feathery fluff claw
the meditating sage atop a peak simply seeks
that all wants, wishes,into this vapour withdraw
stepping stones on the patchy pastel sky
furrowed fields, they fade,and away,they fly
shifting, shrinking, shapeless strewn shreds
white paint stroke streaks hovering high
in ripe time, like truth, they silently freeze
they twist and break with the blowing breeze
or seem darker than lies hidden away
than truth clouded, delayed or unreleased
creeping crimson hues mark presence
climb slow the soft snowy effervescence
as they eclipsed the sun, it lost sunshine
its soul seemed dead,life lost the essence
a sight that reminds of love's fulfilling bliss
this upside-down land that the angel's kiss
afloat on cotton cushions,watch the world amok
running across horizons,floating this abyss
the shadows shielding are so dark, so dead
how the heart and soul shiver in dread
fearing the sunshine shall never return
wishing to merge with the clouds instead
overcast meaning, truth casts a shroud
flashing rage in sparks,thunders angrily aloud
live dreams not fears, crush doubts not hopes
cries the perennially pouring heavy cloud
at times soft clouds meet thundering peers
throwing lightning, thunder, words and fears
tender hurt hearts shatter at the harshness
making broken clouds mourn a million tears
Categories:
patchy, hope, imagination, introspection, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Villanelle : Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
No not all the tasters of Isphaha can patch it back whole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Poetasters all to echolalia Babel be haunted gone
Where words will sour and curdle in a soup bowl
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
No patchy poet’s torn image can verily be sewn
Whose poems cannot own up to an innate soul
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Who says poets are not to the calling be yet re-born
Which mewling mumbler hacked his way to the goal
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
The easiest persona is still the begetter of the poem
Words strung in any old order fit well into any old hole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
No treasure equal to a people’s spirit anyone disown
The fearless voices of a people’s pain the world console
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
patchy, creation, poetry, poets,
Form:
Villanelle