Best Plastic Poems

When we search for answers from egotistic minds,
life is full of meaningless questions that lead us nowhere.
You sabotaged the sandman who brought me my dreams,
corrupting and confusing the clarity of my conscience.
In a world of betrayal, I thought you were my
saviour,
but your promises were sworn...

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Time is ticking for whooping cranes,
the buffalo and prairie dogs.
For their losses outweigh their gains;
displaced by cattle, sheep, and hogs.

The elephant and the blue whale
may share the fate of the dodo.
For their lives are now endangered;
like the dragons of Komodo.

Alligators and crocodiles;
tread the fringes of...

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Sitting so pretty in a vase
You lift your deceitful faces to the world.
I may arrange you how I wish
And I may rejoice that your thorns 
Lack the sting of real thorns;
But betrayed, you always are
When I touch you.


Your delicately moulded petals are cold,
And you stand...

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I just thought as I looked at the table,
to love I am no longer able.
I look at the vase,
take a second look just in case.
It came to me,
our so called love I now see.
Our love may be fake but forever will last,
despite our troublesome past.
Plastic...

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Plastic Playground


The plastic playground sits on land,

Land now defaced of nature’s scheme.

Scheme offers colored shapes pristine—

Pristine like board games played inside.


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
    All Rights Reserved

~6th Place~
Contest: Four Lines Only - Visual 5
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 06/12/2015



....

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In grimed secluded alleyway’s it’s his key into the divine, 
Believing deliverance has arrived while he walks this narrow line,

Those eyes begin seeing reality his mind now lucid has cleared,
The truth’s of his past now a cacophony welling up within perfect ears,

Numbing out his nervous...

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A butterfly
on a plastic rose...
how long
does it take to know
all that is fake



Published in A Hundred Gourds

kash poet (kashinath karmakar)...

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A matted cross of gray does catch the light,
In muted form it shines atop a peak
To all of us who hate the dreary sight
The massive model church awakes to speak: 

"Embrace the waste! Industrial people!
For whom are you to say, 'I stand apart?'
The Earth constructed...

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the sun's a furnace...
or angels glorying god...
meaning or nonsense...

which 'isness' is truth...
if either then therefore both...
truth's not paradox...

truth's situation...
truth means separate problems...
science or poem...

truth means purpose...
a different circumstance...
responsible choice...

words degenerate...
over any and all reads...
so truth means context...

that's reality...
words are compliant plastic...
for you and for me...

to...

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Pretty plastic people.
Pretty plastic play.
What you see is what you get.
And it's always the same.

As I look into the camera.
Back out through your eyes.
We know each others secrets.
Yet "believe" the other's lies.

Pretty plastic people.
Pretty plastic play.
What you see is what you get.
it's easier that way.

It's...

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I'm viewed as a plastic Maori,
because of the way I choose to live life,
moving with westerns trends,
away from traditional life.

This is all I have known,
being city born,
I did try to learn my Tikanga,
but I was severely scorned.

Don't talk that white trash they reckon,
what are you...

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Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries, 
but the difference is 
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin. 
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement 
is motionless because your passion 
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology...

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When my body begins to burgeon, 
I go to see my plastic surgeon. 
His magic tucks and nips 
will make me smaller hips;
but he just smiles and says, “Stop splurgin'.”...

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WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

Shadows of leaves against migrants stripped of bark

Children hidden against a darkened sky
A cup of river foaming at the mouth

Suited men and women laced swirl about with noxious airs
Walk blindly into an imaginary sun longtime set

Sink into the plastic remnants of bottles...

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air rockets skyward
uppercutting inside
plastic neon flesh
contorting at inhuman angles
what does my body language spell?

ankles anchored into the Earth
to stay grounded as the wave
of time and space crashes
a flood of stagnant flux

there is a symphony of bones
snapping and cracking
in twisted orchestrations
the act of existing for me
is...

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