Best Ratty Poems
For them.
To her the word love refers to a boy.
Something she yearns for and misses dearly.
The day they met was cold and fraught with January chill.
“Oh, that does seem so long ago.”
That is the untarnished memory she replays over and over again when events in her life go array.
Back then it was tangible and real, their lives together had not been succumb to so much misery and woe.
They have triumphed, failed, and even caused each other more pain than can be imagined; But through it all they always walked the path together, holding each others hand.
She loves him unconditionally and for that some people cant understand but love needs no excuses, certainly not for them.
She adores him for working so hard, slaving to the man trying to base a future and a plan for them, but she feels guilty that their small American dream over the years has always led down a dead end.
With today’s hard times she knows they are not to blame, but still her idol hands carry burden with them.
A plot of land, a small farm, and a home to call their own so they may grow old.
that’s all the pair desire.
He loves her to, a thought that at times is unfathomable.
He admires her dreams, even if they are bigger than the world and never distills fear in her that they wont one day come true. She thinks ill rationally and believes in things as a child would, but this merely makes him smile at her spontaneous outlook.
To him she is like a wild bee, searching ferociously for something.
At times he doesn’t think she will ever find it, that’s why its so hard to see her cry.
Life hasn’t been fair for them.
It’s a tragic book that just keeps reading on.
But they muscle through living on their dream and knowing that as long as they have each other, everything will be alright.
And as they drive home to their house with no walls, catching glimpses of each other in their ratty car they don’t feel so alone.
Behind those blue eyes, she will be forever nineteen to him and to her, as she gazes into his brown large pupils; the boy she knows has grown into a man and at that moment they know, one day all the sacrifices they have made will pay off.
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
old and alone,
sitting on a wood pile,
making it his own..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
listening and wondering.
Why has the sky grown dark?
Could that be thundering?
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
here comes the rain..
Fur now soaking wet thru an
orange matted mane..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
drenched as can be.
Are you waiting there for
a free meal from me?
It was like a fallen phoenix
Fired with rust and memories,
The body was open to the rooks,
Its ribbed, bare chassis, opened arms,
Unsure whether to defend or
Or make love to the falling sky
The radiator, home to busy insects,
Tiny carnivores, stood in sentinel,
A figurehead before the rotten mast;
For where had once been pedals
Now gaped rusty sink holes,
Observers to the oily brew below
Sans wheels to show; wheels once
Rolled, on busy metalled roads,
Where policemen, eagle-eyed
Checked for wily gangsters, riding
On the leather seats inside: now
Rat food gone to ratty- hell, amid
The scrub and surrounds, tilted
Viking coffin, waiting for heat and
Cleansing, cracking-fire, opening
Doors to buckled, automotive rest
Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks.
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.
She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “****,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him.
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears
and the fake diamonds studding them.
The new girl beside him
giggles…
She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose
behind the formica countertop...
Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…
Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.
The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition.
The bloom is off the Rose now,
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch,
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….
*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh].
The rest is all true.
Winter is on the tips of her fingers.
Winter is silver on her breath as she exhales,
oxygen stamped with her name, forgotten
as either one,
stiffening into smoke like her hair
against the twilight.
Her tears are winter on her face -
winter ice like her eyes when she can
force them open.
Winter is in her poinsettia smile,
wrinkles rising
while she remembers this scarf,
the first time she wore it,
that Christmas when he was there
to kiss her nose and give
her champaine-promise, stomach-flutter
feelings again and again
and see her eyelashes when they filled up
with snow
like pearls on a string.
Winter is turning,
a music-box key
in her throat as she feels her head
bowing of it's own accord from the sky
to the dirty grey slush of the sidewalk.
Winter stops her ears to people passing,
wondering at a very old woman in
a ratty old coat
and one
very red, frayed scrap of knitted cloth
bunched up in her claw fingers
like the blood in her veins,
becoming winter.
Winter hums christmas carols in her
heartbeat while she shudders
and sobs against the cold -
and silent night, the virgin birth
slowing into a winter evening
lit only by streetlamps.
She grasps blindly at the whisper
of pipe-smoke and familiar old
love when his ghost hits her
with a mistle-toe touch on her cheek.
She listens to the ice splinter,
cracking skin.
She wipes her face, trickling down
like the night to the street, hearing
the clock tick, all those
longing little chimes like winter
on her senses.
It's twelve-o-clock now.
She shuffles on.
Why am I grouchy, tired and upset?
And why can’t I cheer up like others I’ve met
Who go on their way as though walking on air?
Smiling and humming with nary a care
My friends have all shunned me and it’s getting me down
I can’t lift my spirits or shake off my frown
All I can do is to carp and to moan
I suppose that’s the reason I’m left on my own
Is it ‘cause I’m ratty or my jokes are so bad?
Is my aftershave chronic or my clothes really sad?
I am getting a complex, I can’t work it out
What is causing my anguish as I go about?
I should show my mettle, be macho and tough
(But it’s hard to be manly when feeling so rough)
And never show weakness, striving never to fold
But this is quite different; I’m a Bloke with a Cold!!
I remember the sail boat gliding
down the stream,over slippery
boulders and frothy cream.
The Kingfisher darting by, the
tangerine flash catching eye,
minnows hide, scattering fry
And ratty on the grass bank,
gnawing on a crayfish shank,
once he'd eaten the water drank
As Dippers bathed and the
Wagtail's played, in the safety
of the willows shade.
Jam butties covered in soil,
yesterdays bread curling up,
A bottle Tizer there to sup
Scratched knees and nettle rash,
Oiled legs from the bicycle chain,
The long walk home in pouring rain
Then mothers arms at the open door
A whack round the ear, asking what
for, your late, dinners on the plate.
A cheeky smile across this face
A year ahead my skull was taken by a diatribe- storm
Her face formed a bead in an invisible dorm
That was right I did feel with a warm wet street
They pressed their seeds into salamander kit
The first thing I did hate; “No, it was not norm”
I smelled a smell of thunder -short and thick
Played all knotty fingers a leprechaun trick
I went to the Iron Gate, the colour I must hate
Of that crippled stuff in me I shouldn’t overrate
And stopped the nerve’s cabal with an assassin snick
They said the sound of screech was a ratty speech
In the corner of a lizard and spider-web rich
Dumpled up near the bed with stiletto-eyes
To the bargain, my demon -self began to rise
My scroop and the shadow spoke each to each
I did nothing to spoil the fight; I did know I was right
I was cool in the argumentative pool while I was in flight
The moon-baked night shed her chill over the Carolyn Hill
In the jungles of cops, thousands of mops and the forgotten shrill
I did know in sloughed snow that it was not a stage fright.
I had my last straw to catch, darkness shrouded my face
Salt in blood played a evening tune, "I'm sure I have lost my space"
Now a derelict soul a barge I had nobody to embrace.
I could vanish without a trace but a crash and burn
Of thousand nights and summer wing's run
Had made me a shallow drone with a zip gun.
© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
13 th October,2014
You’re chock full of kingsize bull crap
Though female you are not a chap
A well-practiced liar
Whose pants are on fire
Your vitriol I’d love to zap
Just little things make you so ratty
You’ll spit venom, gee you’re darn catty
With a scowl and a frown
You will put good folk down
With hindsight I think you’re quite batty
Your language you need to remodel
I’m fed up of reading your twaddle
You can’t leave folk alone
Like a dog with a bone
Try using that brain in your noddle
May I offer a little advice
If you cannot say anything nice
Keep your mouth fully closed
Your bull crap’s been exposed
Go back to your fool’s paradise
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
01/05/22
The plaguing tictocs, of the grandfather clockProduces an electric current upon my skinAwakening cobwebs in my mind like a frockThe horrific chagrin begs the question of sinA subtle distinction mid death and extinctionNot entitled to a timely refund by the kinetic forceA fiery necklace swings upon this skeletal fictionI did refuse the hole, by heralding a sharpened torseAre the moments, beyond this grave season,dreamt of in terrific lucidity,bobbling plum sensesOh the howling of the bawbling ratty eyed demonPeace is divided,as the gathering pain intensesAngular resolutions, well up on pivoting emotions,cutting deeply across time and space saddling,the age old answers of equal but swinging notionsShuddering leathery ribbons, as deaths door is rattlingA sharp Hispanic nard tortures the flaring nostrilsAwaking fatigued, in the hall of ill-reputed womenPraising an opiated green fairy, under doomsday’s till
Yeah, the Angel of Death was an ugly old Toad
In a ratty black robe as He walked on the road
Where I drove a big truck full of asphalt that day
So I hollered at Him, "Get the hell out the way!"
Then he gave me a look that would stop a clock dead
And it felt like a brick had just struck my poor head
But I shivered and regained my composure at last
So I pulled the air horn, and He jumped at the blast.
Well, I laughed and I laughed 'til I thought I would choke;
I mean, who would've thought you could play such a joke
On the Man whose sole task was to make people die
And to leave loyal dogs at their gravesites to cry?
I get mad when I think of the arrogant Creep
Who does nothing but plant victims two fathoms deep.
How the hell does He know when it's our time to leave
And to snatch us away whilst our goldfish all grieve?
But as much as I rattled the grim-looking Goon
He refused to indulge me by ending too soon
The long life that was left me to do as I like
So He settled for booming, "HEY BUD, TAKE A HIKE!"
When I see you in the broad daylight
Your long,ratty beard gives me a fright
You keep critters in there just for play
They won't hurt a thing,you always say
Whatever you say dear,your shotgun's sawed
Pointed at a young feller whose plan is flawed
He played fast and loose,now baby makes three
Whatever you do dear,don't miss and shoot me!
Whatever you say dear, that moonshine will wait
The revenue man's headed for the front gate
There's biscuits and pinto beans cooked on the fire
But first dear would you go make me a swing tire?
Whatever you say dear,need a hickory switch
To whip some young-uns when I know which is which
Whatever you say dear it's a hard life
Ain't all it's cracked up to-bein' your wife!
** for contest"Whatever You Say Dear"
**sponsored by Francine Roberts
Durex was popular in a NY condo
His wife was Kimono Toyota Hondo
They went to Okamoto
Passed the night in a grotto
Left ratty rubbers in the bag of Londo
durex/Limerick Copyright (c) rajat kanti chakrabarty 25 11 2014
I can't be picky since I put on weight
the calorie medication sure tastes great
I'm horny as hell and I need a rush
and you don't look good but I have a crush
Your ratty hair and your sweaty shirt
is something I can get passed, so flirt!
I can't tell if you're cute or if I'm sick
but it doesn't matter now that I'm a bit thick
We can't fly but we sure can sink
into a place where I ignore what I think
You don't have to have it all, just be true
and I'll lower my standards for you!
We can go have breakfast and dessert!
We can talk nasty, filth dirt!
we can go have a snack and then another
God, have I found another screwed up lover?
See it all starts here for me!
between the sandwich, drink, and sexuality.
God, I'm starting to care , what to do??!!
I know! Another pair of pants to get into!
We can't fly but we sure can sink
into to a place where I ignore what I think
You don't have to have it all, just be true
and I'll lower my standards for you!
Oh, honey take it off and get real!
skin is skin if you know how to feel
and after the sex and a nice meal,
let it go, don't try to seal the deal!!!
I don't ever want to see you again
but somehow I know this isn't the end
okay, maybe I'll hit you up later you freak!
if I start to hurt, and so become weak
We can't fly but we sure can sink
into a place where I ignore what I think
you don't have to have it all, just be true
and I'll lower my standards for you!
Riding the bus to school past an ugly reminder
the tattered trailers next to a construction site
I imagine the way it used to be
a house
across from a dozen shattered trailers with little heat
no water usually but electricity
visiting mom was a treat
Dad would not refuse to drop me off
at her trailer with my pet rat
rad dee louise, ratty louise mom called him
she loved him so I let her have him
mom had friends over all the time
this tattered trailer held them while
I watched and smelled the perfume
watched her glow red and crystallize with 2 grown men
then dad picked me up for the night
next time a man drove up to the lot
he rolled down the window and I ran up
we talked and I must have been smart
because he remembered me and drove off
she wanted to talk about the spies
the eyes in the trees that were watching her
I ate the crystals she gave me saying
these are cow grass, they put the cows to sleep
I did not sleep
she lectured me
about all the terrible things that others
could do to me or had done to others
so I went outside and built a fire
that fire lasted through the night
the coals were most amazing things
I'd ever seen
I stared into their eyes
keep them alive and nothing else mattered
She came storming out of the tattered trailer
after midnight or just before dawn I dont know
screaming
I'm being electrocuted! she said
tired, I wondered why she felt that way
she jumped into a tree and sat their shaking
I tried to comfort her but she was on fire
I saw that, tried to leave in vain
she kept me close and dragged me
to the battered trailer again
she pulled me from place to place
around the compound in the dawn
the fire coals were cold and so was I
wanted to sleep but she kept saying
she was being electrocuted
waking up I wandered to find the sheriff
shaking her awake and taking her away
they took me too
to the dock where the van was
where my dad was gone
I told them he was teaching which was true
so I woke up alone next to the payphone
and crawled into bed in the van
I didn't tell my dad