Best Scantly Poems
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Like
all of life
this requires effort
perhaps more difficult
than
I could achieve today
but church hymns rang out
the wonders and the gloried awe
while in the shadows poor and sad walked
_______________
and/ \ but
there/ \ no one
she / \ nothing
stood / O \ deterred
small / / I \ \ her purpose
frail / / \ \ not cold or rain
aged / \ neither ice nor snow
in her cumulative years
in her coat and scarf
blushing from her salty falling tears
the house itself, scantly decorated
with colored lights, green, red and blue
in her solitary steps, alone chilled and cold
she walked slow and steady from church to home
and the smile formed deep round upon her waiting face
in tinsel glow with familiar song and softest Christmas lace
one more year welcomed memories came the season of Holy Grace.
Remember the alone during this holiday season, send them a card, a gift, a flower to brighten their day and help them know, they are remembered.
Since the beginning it has been here.........
When we get up,weather its at the crack of dawn or before the roster crows its ahead of us.
We look to see it but it somehow evades our view.
Mere predictions are captured momentarally on precision pieces,which too are subject to the
bekoning of its un-obtainable master.
Photographs gives us the imagery of good-times,happy
occassions,celebrations,parties,annaveraries.....the first steps,the first dance,the first
date,the first ride or a loved one long gone but not forgotten. But canyou see him there
lurking in the shadows,waving behind a sibilings head or pearched on Grand-dad's aged laps
as he rocks back and forth ever so gently in his soft arm-chair.
Can you see him when the streaks of grey come out from hiding, or the arms shake;when
the knees buckle and sway form walking with added load.
Is he there when chil-hood games ceases;texbooks replaces scantly cladded dolls,tea
cups,ballerina shoes,ribbons,tricycles,action figures,big red fire trucks,,videogames and back-
yard swings. When facial geastures are no longer cute or precious but rather premeditated
to impel demands.
No!.....,you cannot see him but he is there watching,waitngfor the precise moment to strike
like a poisonous adder coiled up in a deep,dark hole.
Can you charm him,........no! presuede or bribe him,..........no! Can you reason wih him like
mortals,chronologically listing to him all the things you have accomplished in this life in order
to win his frienship........no!
All we can do is hope that he forgives and approves of our previous actions.
“Scantly-published in life, JD Salinger is set to become prolific in death”.
This is Tuesday
and a day of short poems.
Salinger spoke to me
and said that it is better
to not be so prolific.
He should know,
having set the pace,
and attained a measured glory
with a certain story.
She is scantly dressed as she twirls and dances
she dances on a raised platform with eyes staring
Her clients mostly male partaking lagers and beers
Her job involves dancing and teasing these clients
In her eyes lies a dazed look like shes high on drugs
She told her mama she had found work in the city
After many years of empty searches she is working
After many nights of sleeping on an empty stomach
A friend introduced her to this and the money is good
On the good nights some clients are very generous
She recalls the way her Godly mother thanked God
She hadn't given her mother the specifics of this job
She knows this isn't what she ought to be doing
She is trapped in a job she is really unwilling to do
Her clients offer her money tucking it in her bikini
She recalls her childhood as she swings on that pole
Never in her childhood could she ever have dreamed
She would end up becoming an exotic pole dancer
Dancing as she was born as gentlemen cheered her on
Never in her wildest dreams had she seen this coming
Staring at the Universe a speck of decaying dust, roaming like restless rust
A sovereign statue underrated & unjust, searching solitudes of trust
With a mirage of mirrors in my view, steering my soul to scantly skew
Meticulously moving quizzically on cue, banished beneath the blue
We are Nomads of the rising Sun, surviving the fields of oblivion as one
First, we crawl, walk then run…exiting the earth when we are done
We are but a tear in the oceans of time, drowning in a downhill climb
A speck of lamented light or sublime, a phantom peripheral pantomime
Dormant death encroaches with remorse, only to silence and enforce
Invader of dreams like a Trojan-Horse, never deviating from its course
Stay awake from this slaving sleep, taking away your breath with a sweep
Does the lion lie with the sheep, when we cross the abyss of the deep?
March.01.2019
Dance of Death
Sponsored by:
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 6'th...Thank You
STONE - MADEMOISELLE L'VAMPYRE
From out of all the darkest nights we've ever known
her heart as black as all the sins that man has shown
she came in scantly fitted laced atire
abreathing smoke, her body hot as fire,
and on the backstreets, she could make her way alone.
She rode a hackneyed team from out the midnight sky
to Paris in the dark, unseen by any eye,
and when she let the Seine to be her home,
she layed each steed down to the catacomb
where all unloved, and all forgotten go to die.
An early snow, each flake fortelling winters' cold
played magic in the corner lights of days of old,
and as her shadow blended to the night
her evil eye searched out a soul who might
be craving body heat, more dearly than his gold.
There layed she in the wait, until someone was near
then caught his eye before his anxious mind could fear,
and said she, if he layed this night alone,
she'd warm his bed and melt his heart of stone
or if he'd say the word--she'd simply disappear.
He quick embraced her propositioning and said
if she should leave him now, he'd rather to be dead,
"and let us find my flat most hastily
for ours is love that simply has to be,"
and so she'd set her spell into his eager head.
that night she loved him well but left him there alone
much happier in death, than life had ever known,
the very first of blood from her first bite
since joining the undead, one hallowed night,
but she sucked him so dry it turned him into stone.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
She lays sprawled out on my bed, scantly clothed
What she does wear is very revealing
There’s not a part of her that can be loathed
I loved looking at her, surely seeing
What she does wear is very revealing
She lays in a provocative manner
I loved looking at her, surely seeing
My eyes are open, she then seems wilder
She lays in a provocative manner
With a large crooked grin, leading me on
My eyes are open, she then seems wilder
Passion is high, we will mate until dawn
With a large crooked grin, leading me on
She motions for me to get into bed
Passion is high, we will mate until dawn
There’s not a thing I’d rather do instead
She motions for me to get into bed
We hold each other close, being as one
There’s not a thing I’d rather do instead
She lovingly touches my forehead some
We hold each other close, being as one
There’s not a part of her that can be loathed
She lovingly touches my forehead some
She lays sprawled out on my bed, scantly clothed
Russell Sivey
Were you an airborne fire-fly
Exuding sparkle through its skin...
Mesmerising our keen eye
With daze would not be a sin.
Then, it would be sin to blink
Colour captivating fascination...
Yet, colour cannot stop us to think
And then lead our imagination.
Would your brain scantly bury
In the thin layer of your skin
To coruscate bright not blurry
Through the hide white and thin?
Human skin does not think
Or, will it ever win in a race...
When, with age, it can shrink
No matter what tint on the face?
When God colours conceived
Dominance was not in His mind
What is now being perceived
Colour seems to qualify mankind!
JM
05th January 2014
America Gentleman II
His long stripped Hat is a storey thing
Yet his head scantly fills it to the brim
His Brain being below the first floor
Floats in the scar sprinkled Skyscraper
Vaunted as “Most Sublime!”
His Coat flows so long and so bright
A frayed notorious Cat O’ Nine Tails
Only that he’s the Cat of Nine Lives
Coaxing a scary plague back in Town!
Racy colours of Pied Piper!
Arriving at the Port from land abroad
“Hero’s in Town”, RED carpet rolled.
Frowning: “Been into too much blood,
“I wouldn’t desire that kind of stuff
“Flag you raise to honour me must be
“A Scar Spangled Banner!”
Then on tow, kid captive from abroad
Chained and destined for some Zoo...
A stage was set for a Hero’s welcome-
To lavish with fun and raucous praise
“I need no dough with no hologram
“Of Pirates on eye-hoods!”
JM
04th Nov’ 2013
Whisper this in your baby's ear
science poses little fear.
Though still primitive and childlike,
it finds first tracks on which to strike.
Billions spent on science research
scantly more than a stumbling lurch.
Bright babies will topple toy towers
as Mom picks pieces up and glowers.
Twisted forces tempt to abuse
having doubts, deny and confuse -
truths used as toys, science as tools.
So the rest can be played for fools.
With all we know of life and earth,
clues about our universe's birth;
each new truth reveals another,
there's so much more to discover.
Few children dare to stare away
while others sit and play all day.
Babies do grow and take the veil;
when they learn, science shall prevail.
122 words couplets 10/2022
Reframing and encouraging the young and old
expectations of science for future advancements.
Albert Einstein quote: "... that all our science,
measured against reality, is primitive and childlike.."
Tom Hofmann, Ben Ferencz Nuremberg Prosecutor
and Peace Advocate quote: "Death was their tool
and life was their toy".
Pen illustration by G. Gaul
Do you want to experience?
…the life of the writer
Who doesn’t really understand
Life continually moving to the right
Sideways emotional breakdowns
Dawning of a lunar sunrise on Tuesday
Knights wearing their protective masculinity
Mustached feelings of upper lips
Lemon butter granules of hope
While the working man suffers
Whimsical thought patterns of light
Illuminate an illustrious psalm of change
Do you want to experience?
A melon colored symphony of fire
Engulfed in a tabernacle in your mind
Full of manipulative and aggressive words
…thought and devotion becoming friends
Going on a journey through emotion
Wanting a written record of life
The way hazel shaded eyes scope
Metaphors that can leave you empty
Do you want to Experience?
Arabian nights of passionate remorse
As regret rears its ugly head to plot
Burnt sand between you toes
Slicing the soiled epidermal carnage
Thirsting for that one moment
That somehow rectifies this situation?
Left like an anvil on your chest
Do you want to Experience?
Frostbitten toes turning black and blue
Somehow crippling your soul
Man of the hour for fifteen minutes
Hopping through dimensions of bliss
Savage beasts pound on their drums
Scantly clad carnivores feed on emptiness
Melodic young men fortify thirsts of pleasure
Recognizing your peers inner thoughts and emotions
Listening and learning the way to refreshment
Stands that quench a simple vice
Verses sung out of key
Do you want to experience?
Art simplified through scientific experimentation
That can justify exactly why or when
A simple beat in the background
Enhances words without even trying
Sexiness expressed through art of a different breed
Breathing life into this astrological union
Striking a cord some where deeply untouched
But needing to be
Not to make anyone feel stupid
Writing about the universe seen
As progression escapes from the speaker
Summer in the Park
Under the sky the lovers know.
Long gone the cold of winters snow.
The children’s laughter is so gay.
In the sun they sing and play.
On a summer breeze, the flowers blow.
Beneath the sun they spread and grow.
And in the park they spend the day.
Warm breezes chase their cares away.
On the beach they lie in the sun.
And splash in the water just for fun.
Scantly clad they spend the day.
As the hours while away.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
All life, he wanted to know himself
like a sea, which drowns itself
in the boat.
In your own turf, time had beaten
you again and again. Still you will
not become a fodder,
on the dirt ramp.
Many things you did not say for
the sake of a pause in the learning.
The absolute versus scantly clad version,
always hurt you.
A city breaks up in small quarters
of anguish, rubbing on the future?
behind the glass
for a relative truth.
Satish Verma
MADEMOISELLE L'VAMPYRE
From out of all the darkest nights we've ever known
her heart as black as all the sins that man has shown
she came in scantly fitted laced attire
abreathing smoke, her body hot as fire,
and on the back streets, she could make her way alone.
She rode a hackneyed team from out the midnight sky
to Paris in the dark, unseen by any eye,
and when she let the Seine to be her home,
she laid each steed down to the catacomb
where all unloved, and all forgotten go to die.
An early snow, each flake foretelling winters' cold
played magic in the corner lights of days of old,
and as her shadow blended to the night
her evil eye searched out a soul who might
be craving body heat, more dearly than his gold.
There laid she in the wait, until someone was near
then caught his eye before his anxious mind could fear,
and said she, if he laid this night alone,
she'd warm his bed and melt his heart of stone
or if he'd say the word--she'd simply disappear.
He quick embraced her propositioning and said
if she should leave him now, he'd rather to be dead,
and let us find my flat most hastily
for ours is love that simply has to be,
and so she'd set her spell into his eager head.
and so she loved him well but left him there alone
much happier in death, than life had ever known,
the very first of blood from her first bite
since joining the undead, one hallowed night,
but she sucked him so dry it turned him into stone.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the Doylestown Poet
MADEMOISELLE L'VAMPYRE
From out of all the darkest nights we've ever known
her heart as black as all the sins that man has shown
she came in scantly fitted laced atire
abreathing smoke, her body hot as fire,
and on the backstreets, she could make her way alone.
She rode a hackneyed team from out the midnight sky
to Paris in the dark, unseen by any eye,
and when she let the Seine to be her home,
she layed each steed down to the catacomb
where all unloved, and all forgotten go to die.
An early snow, each flake fortelling winters' cold
played magic in the corner lights of days of old,
and as her shadow blended to the night
her evil eye searched out a soul who might
be craving body heat, more dearly than his gold.
There layed she in the wait, until someone was near
then caught his eye before his anxious mind could fear,
and said she, if he layed this night alone,
she'd warm his bed and melt his heart of stone
or if he'd say the word--she'd simply disappear.
He quick embraced her propositioning and said
if she should leave him now, he'd rather to be dead,
and let us find my flat most hastily
for ours is love that simply has to be,
and so she'd set her spell into his eager head.
and so she loved him well but left him there alone
much happier in death, than life had ever known,
the very first of blood from her first bite
since joining the undead, one hallowed night,
but she sucked him so dry it turned him into stone.