Best Scant Poems
What beauty reflected in love's fair eyes,
a passion treasured beyond all measure.
As ardor stirred flames, I failed to disguise
the need in my loins ere want of pleasure.
As sweet the music I discern profound,
tis more honeyed your lips when touching mine.
Oh! My pained heart shall beckon love resound,
my moonstruck maiden, unearthly divine.
Mute, I cannot be, so near your soft breasts.
This besotted man has but scant more breath.
Grant me your pure love, not in mere request,
but with an angelic kiss 'fore my death.
I beg thee allow the stars remain bright.
Give yourself to me ere the end of night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
January 9th 2016
Categories:
scant, longing,
Form:
Sonnet
an ugly gray rock, so I kicked it along
amused by my memories, humming a song
it was jagged and rough - I gave it no mind
and punted it thrice, then left it behind …
I changed up my hum and walked on alone
not thinking it special, (it WAS just a stone)
yet the farther I got from where it had been
the more I considered that "plain" rock
again
something about its proportions or form
contrasted just slightly, was not quite the
norm
the way that it tumbled, or lay there, just SO
or maybe the way it had bounced off my
toe
whatever it was, I could not quite discern
but decided right then, it was worth a
return
so, I spun myself 'round, headed back to
that spot
still not sure of WHY - just a feeling I got
but when I returned, it had broken in two -
an incredible OPAL flamed red, green and
blue!
scant had I known just what "ugly" could
hold -
all the prismatic colors that smoldered,
untold!
well …
I couldn't help think that a lesson was there
of the plain folks we see, that we pass,
unaware
for they are more precious than any gray
stone
with such wonders inside - yet we leave
them alone
perhaps if we gave them a wink or a grin
we might find the bright of their beauty
WITHIN
the colors that light their charisma and
grace
the complexion of charms that don’t show
on a face
the places they’ve been or the roads they
have run
their moonlight romances and days in the
sun
the wealth of their spirit, their talents and
rage
they’ve a story to tell, if we’d just turn the
page
so, I keep in my pocket, a piece of that rock
to help me recall what I learned on that walk
not to take "plain" for granted, or push folks
aside
but instead, look for sparks of their fires …
deep INSIDE.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Overlooked Beauty" Poetry Contest, Jesse Rowe, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
scant, beauty, humanity, metaphor, nature,
Form:
Couplet
Darkness Where Now Poe And Raven Reside,
(Part Two)
Song over, Poe told demon band to leave
And then pointed to the now empty stage
Wretched souls, look as thy lost spirit grieves
I present this new contest- all the rage
Blood and gore will flame your dark desires
Giving some respite from thy crying pleas
In dire conflict, comes death and fire
No weak romance, on love, birds and the bees
Suddenly cast there a hero alive!
In scant armor and flesh soaked in red blood
How this mere mortal had fought to survive
His legs covered in fresh, battlefield mud
Slow to rise, but so defiantly proud
His eyes gleaming with courage Heaven sent
Then yet another crash so very loud
From lightning, its power blasted and spent.
From that flash came a monstrous beast so great
With power from fangs and dagger-like claws
Dragon of massive scale, thick armor plate
Able to spew fire from massive jaws
At first glance it sighted the hero there
Bellowing out with its accursed breath
From thy flesh my claws will now rip and tear
Until that mortal body meets thy death.
Alas! Thy foul breath has no greater foe
Its effects are horrendous unto me...
Yet there is more than even you beast know-
Stronger are roots from my ancestral tree
Send forth thy evil, hottest flaming blast
As my great shield in its glory holds true
Thy fate, thy end has now came at long last
This brighter new dawn, shall be your end too!
Master Poe laughed with his booming voice
Stepping back, giving their battle more room
Announcing this is my gift, my first choice
Entertaining you, pleasure seeing sweet doom
This hero, with mercy I gave his shield
And his scant armor to give him a chance
Battling to the death, neither can yield
Here comes blood and guts, no feeble romance!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-30-2019
Dark Rhymes, ( As Raven And Poe Both Survive Below )
Part Two... Part Three to be written soon.
Syllables Per Line:
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:400
Total # Words:306
Categories:
scant, conflict, courage, dark, death,
Form:
Rhyme
The Winter Blues
Robert J. Lindley
Winter blew in with a scant little whimper
Fall skulked away with hardly a peep
Deep cold, blowing winds fit some's temper
Yet others they sadden enough to weep!
Snow brings its beauty and shining charms
Frigid air sets furry critters about
Blizzards blasting forth set great alarms
Where frozen forested cries ring out.
Nature knows best and gives as she pleases
Hardest season sets the coming stage
Death and pain, of which Spring then eases
Time for each, says the wizened sage!
Cold chills, hang glisten silent through the night
Decembers solstice sets the stage northbound
Jack Frost pretends to be Earth's white knight
Dark days of winter winds; ice-kiss the ground
Autumn renews chilling barren vows,
Wonderland enables the sun on numb
Icicles form, a voice shared -leaving nature roused
Winter's blue melodies washed down with rum
A cold peril storm, enjoying the winter sky
Frostbitten dawn, desolate sunset of worthlessness
A leafless desire to intensify nature's supply
Loss from exposed skin, of hopelessness
***
Snow, Sleet, and hell; patients needing detox
Atlas Spring gives way to the Viral Equinox
(Robert Lindley and Poet Destroyer co-write)
~ ~ A Poet Destroyer Collaboration ~ ~
----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Collaboration Celebration- subject- Winter Reflections.
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Categories:
scant, age, analogy, angst, art,
Form:
Rhyme
"One can speak poetry just by arranging colours well,
just as one can say comforting things in music"
~ Vincent Van Gogh
You sing of beauty as you paint
in colors bold, with scant restraint -
poetic truths that harmonize
with tales of hope in the reprise.
A human symphony in oils,
of workers weary in their toils -
depicted honest, good, and true,
and your most loyal subject: you.
Compose a masterpiece to cast
poetic fragrances that last
one generation to the next
that parlay comfort to the vexed.
Though you were versed in tragedy,
you showed us, Vincent, what could be;
in vivid, dancing hues. Your goal:
portraying beauty of the soul.
Written 29 Jan 2022
Categories:
scant, art, music, poetry,
Form:
Couplet
ORIGINS
Winter’s shroud
Urges meditation
Adornment so scant only
Heaven’s light to cheer the lonely
In springtime though
Peeping buds awaken
Tiny origins thrust
Ease one’s contemplation
Tulips germinate
Sans nature’s later flow
And mind’s eye gravitates
To roiling roots below
Spring’s full blown riot
Must pose eyeful question
But a moment chime perhaps
Soul’s true direction
Is such splendid array
A vein traveling invitation
To some hidden house
Of God’s creation?
Alas belittling mortal speculation
Winter’s origin winter’s shroud –
She sleeps sleeps as needed
By all of nature’s crowd
Dave Austin
Categories:
scant, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Awake in the darkness, curtains are not drawn,
sky a deep Prussian blue, with no sign of the dawn.
Daybreak six fifty-five, two more hours to go
'till sunrise at the speed of thawing winter snow.
Window slightly ajar, letting in the night's hush,
dawn chorus spasmodic, birds are not in a rush.
Seeking out signs of sunrise I take in the views
like a soldier's wife, patiently waiting for news.
Bedroom light left switched off, no comfort from its rays
giving scant consolation on short Autumn days.
On the Eastern horizon now a band of Azure,
I hungrily take it in, praying for more.
Greedy clouds cloak the sun as they muddy the sky
stretching out my torment as the minutes tick by.
As the gift of a new dawn is slowly unwrapped,
night time's bookends draw nearer, the shorter day trapped.
I shall revel in daylight, no minutes shall I waste
but savour the sights and the sounds and the taste,
for my mood feeds on sunlight at all times of year,
which is why, in the winter, I swap it for beer.
Categories:
scant, autumn, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Memories wound like shards of shrapnel
exploding through the restless night
bursting into jagged slivers like broken glass,
leaving a heart wretched and contrite.
Ears strained to hear voices crying
from somewhere within the dark beyond,
the place lying between emptiness and sighing
but not one echoing refrain responds
Not a single word from the void spoken
Silence takes a ransom toll on emotions
There's not a whispered breath, no scant token
that offers hope in any measure of devotion
Shattered is the heart that has been forgot
In the midst of grief, a voice it does not hear.
It's time to move on for the echo returns not.
and in its absence, a heart must prove austere.
Purge all the sorrow and wash away its stain.
No longer whisper and do not strive to hear
nonexistent echoes that resound in refrain,
those ricocheting words that never did cohere.
Categories:
scant, emotions, eulogy,
Form:
Rhyme
scant moon -
lullaby’s a whisper.
sleeps soon,
after mother’s kissed her.
moon high,
over dusk-hue passion.
I sigh
with twilight’s compassion.
peeking
between the pines, her eyes
streaking.
winsome drive - crescent dives.
descent,
of what’s left, of the moon.
advent
of season, coming soon.
Christmas,
aft will bring a moon, black.
snow sass
in cul de sac.
Categories:
scant, moon, night,
Form:
Rhyme
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
Categories:
scant, funny
Form:
Rhyme
I love my diaphanous nightie
It’s sexy and sheer- its quite flighty
But it’s a shocking disgrace
Scant material and lace
Cost hubby ninety-nine pounds ninety!
15th February 2015
Categories:
scant, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
She leads her army up and down,
two sides of Main Street, and is found
companioned by three basset hounds.
They follow, closely, at her heels
like foundlings gathered round
I've often wondered where she goes,
with shopping cart, and dogs in tow.
Tweed on her back, scarves on her hair,
regardless of the temperature
She never speaks, but no one cares.
with eyes like windows, dark and clear.
A friendly clerk will wave hello,
while patrons share a coin or two.
We help her fill her cart with food,
her needs are scant, her wants are few.
When spring arrives, she'll sit and rest
upon the bench, within the shade
to watch daily passing parade
She'll stay awhile, become our friend,
then disappear, as summer ends
Dark hooded eyes have not revealed,
just why she migrates, what compiles
her secret story, or where she goes.
She's a soldier of frenetic times
where clocks tick fast, and seasons change.
She holds the leash like it's her string
to keep the world within her hands
A solemn ritual, we have seen
again, again, where has she been?
And through the seasons, we have grown,
more curious, yet pleased to bend
a little more to understand
She stays until the autumn comes
But winter knows her silent song
_____________________________________________
4/29/16
Contest: Second Place Contest
Sponsor Laura Loo
(Based on a real person that we often see on the streets of our small town)
__________________________________________________
Categories:
scant, drug, people,
Form:
Free verse
Three blind men, as in the elephant fable,
examined a horse in a roadside stable.
The owner said to the blind men then,
“Guess what it is and ten dollars win.”
The first exclaimed while stroking its mane,
“This animal, from a lion came.”
Another felt its dry, course hair,
“I think it surely must be a bear.”
The third, more thorough than the rest,
put the animal through a careful test.
“Its head is large for its body size,
and finely appointed with big round eyes.
“With ears alert and shoulders deep;
its neck is long with a graceful sweep.
Its muscular legs and fetlocks large,
are poised and ready for instant charge.
“He, I believe, was desert bred,
with sturdy feet to hot sand tread.
From hardy stock he will long survive
on scant water and stay alive.
“Arabian horse!” was the blind man’s phrase.
And, at such accuracy, the owner was dazed.
“How could you have possibly known?
Could you tell by feeling alone?”
To which replied the blind man then,
with ten dollars safely in hand,
“Thank you Sir, but I could not lose,
since you told it all on the Morning News.”
Categories:
scant,
Form:
Quatrain
My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong.
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.
My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.
Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.
It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic.
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.
In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.
Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.
Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?
Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.
Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.
The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.
Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.
That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.
When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.
I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.
© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Categories:
scant, angst, business, fear, mom,
Form:
Quatrain
A child
No more than 12 years old
Sees images of women
Thin
Beautiful
Rich
Wanted
She looks in the mirror
She doesn't see the image
Her body doesn't fit the mold
Movies, TV and magazines
Tell her she is not what they want
She is not thin
She is not beautiful
Everyday her eyes cry as she looks at who she is
The perfect her hidden within
The beautiful soul they will not let her see
She diets
She starves
Still she does not fit the mold
She feels unloved
Unwanted
Eating less than a cracker a day
Throwing up the scant food she eats
Her body changes
Wasting away
They make her up
She wears a beautiful white dress
They close the lid
Denied the perfect her
The person she should have been
She lies in eternal rest
But she is loved
She is wanted
She will be missed
Categories:
scant, angst, childhood, death, health,
Form:
Free verse