Best Scanty Poems
'Twas the night before Christmas
when I and my groom
finally found a motel
but with just one room.
My groom was in the bathroom -
leaving me alone-
so that he could douse himself
with some cheap cologne.
I - in my red negligee -
thought of bump and grind,
visions of his sugar plums
dancing in my mind.
Then a noise I heard outside
gave me such a fright!
who was out there in the snow
on our special night?
Opening our small room’s door,
I felt like a goof.
It was just an icicle
falling off the roof.
Then I felt a sudden breeze.
One unlucky bride!
As the door behind me shut,
I was locked outside.
When upon my motel door
I began to pound,
it was clear that my dear groom
did not hear a sound.
Right before my startled eyes,
what should then appear?
Someone dressed as Santa Claus,
filling me with fear!
His eyes, though not so cheery,
lit up, seeing me
as he crossed the street and came
stumbling drunkenly.
I stood helpless, trembling in
scanty siren red
when an icicle fell down
clunking my poor head.
I revived in the ER,
thong still on my rump!
Underneath my bandage was
an enormous lump.
Thankfully my groom was there,
smelling of Old Spice.
But we’d have no chance to give
gifts naughty and nice.
At our room I later saw
Santa Claus was there -
that same guy who’d seen me in
sexy underwear.
Having seen my accident
he’d informed my groom
right before he then collapsed
stone drunk in our room.
Santa on our honeymoon
with cheeks rosy red,
(but not one “Merry Christmas”),
stole our wedding bed.
12/8/12
Now used for Joseph May's
The Night Before Christmas Poetry Contest
Finding Forgiveness
Can you forgive my humble home?
A cardboard box my diamond dome
Can you forgive my scanty clothes?
The least that I worry of my woes
Can you forgive my crooked smile?
The frigid air a thermostatic trial
Can you forgive my lack of food?
Your leftover meals I have chewed
Can you forgive my hungry heart?
A life brand new I’m hoping to start
Can you forgive my tapering tears?
There’s little left after all these years
Can you forgive a saddened soul?
A love lost in an empty echoless hole
Can you forgive my losing of will?
A shattered stain of a splitting spill
Can you forgive my only existence?
For the Lord has in his holy presence.
Nov.06.2017
Healing power of forgiveness
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Twenty fifth of December, three thousand and four
and already I'm down in the dumps
we're round at the neighbour's via tubes that save labour
propelled by some hydraulic pumps.
We've exchanged all our presents and got them unwrapped
once again I've got self-cleaning socks
the wife's Kevlar panties, though they are quite scanty
are going straight back in the box.
I'm constantly goaded to eat nuts they've downloaded
they'll try any tactic to feed ya
but the problem, I quibble is that some have been nibbled
as they're passed around on social media.
We're looking for doorways or just any more ways
to find a quick route to get out
and escape if we're able, being chased round the table
by genetically modified sprouts.
They've offered a glass of Martian Pinot noir
and they tell me it's alcohol free
so there goes my boozing and afternoon snoozing
and waking up just after tea.
Grandma kids are teasing, cryogenic freezing
means she won't wake up until noon
to find grapes in her hair and a plum, God knows where
and they've blocked up her nose with some spoons.
Don't know why they have bothered with plates that can hover
it seems so bone idle to me
they could have just handed the pudding that's landed
on the light fitting just above me.
The custard's abundant but the jug is redundant
administered now by syringe
and so is the Brandy which, though is quite handy
prevents us from having a binge.
When later we get back from fresh air and jet packs
remembering when we could walk
I'll look back fondly then to those Christmases when
we just used a knife and a fork.
November 16th 2015
For Contest 'A futuristic Christmas', sponsor Mystic Rose
Wow is this for real, my boy lollipop,
My best ever destination, da, da da da,
Is a trip to the park
I love it when it gets dark,
Da da da da,
My boy lollipop.
I want to see the big five,
Then adrenaline will pump,
On which I thrive.
I love it, i love it, I love it so,
Da da, da, da, da, da da da,
When i see a star constellation,
And clear skies,
Even the milky way,
I want you to know,
This feeds my always
Active imagination,
Da, da, da da,
My boy lollipop.
I have missed the roar of the lion,
In the early morn,
We get up, shower, that was our alarm,
Am I right my boy lollipop,
And the gentle, long lashed giraffes,
Da da da da,
I long for an elephant’s trumpet,
Da da da da,
My boy lollipop
Hey sweet hubby lollipop,
For you I desire,
Hope we see buffalo in herds,
And a Dung Beetle carrying turd,
Da, da da da,
You always set my heart on fire,
My boy lollipop
The soar of the fish eagle by the river,
A leopard chasing its kill
Hey my boy lollipop,
He carries it up a tree
And eats his fill,
Da, da, da da,
Oh, how I love the Kruger Park,
From my first visit with you
I fell in love
My boy lollipop.
Will we see hyenas or wild dogs,
Da, da, da da
Will it be sunny and hot
Cold nights or not,
Tell me my boy lollipop
Will you be wild with me
We are in the wild so let it be,
My hubby lollipop.
Da da da da.
Wart hogs are so cute
They squeal with delight or fear,
And rhinos, surely
We’ll see lollipop dear,
Once remember, we saw two
Baboons fiercely fighting,
There’s so much more,
Let’s wait and see
Da, da, da da, da da da,
Will you buy be some candy,
If I promise you, clothes
Will be scanty.
Have my silly cap on, tomorrow going to the Kruger Park.
The da da da’s is the background music.
Inspired by the song my boy lollipop sung by Millie Small,
A hit in 1964.
Big five is when you have spotted elephants, lions, rhinos
Leopards and buffalo.
A lone cantata pierced through the hollow night
as hungry clouds nibbled at the frozen Moon,
Her smile obscured but for a slight, scanty sight
as a solo aria pierced the lagoon.
Amid the languid yet luminous half-light
came the chilling chorus of the Arctic loon.
Love lives here, and lingers warm in half moonlight,
budding with romantic, symphonious swoon.
I watch as you watch the performance enwreathe,
loving you fervently with each breath I breathe.
Iconoclastic lots of marshiest beauty
Clenched sublime altruistic nature bore –
Morals indefatigably humbled, reasoning in bondage –
Bondage of the highest periphery
Blessings encountered in watered chaos.
Blocked nuts with scanty feelers,
Inducing mere bouts of euphoric impasses
Rarely a gift of fatherly nature.
Hay filled tubs called but heads
Preferably a misfortune
To their worthless masses.
Maevius a reader’s delight be
In the fumbling fold
Of this rowdy rendezvous.
More ore less classy oddities
On deferred pedestals
As lovely Mannequins
To display for sale.
Now Hyperion his burning sword behold
None to hear Triton’s call to arms.
Passion with a Pen
Birth of a Critic
8/2/2023
So excited was I, to gain a position.
Something so dishonest was going on!
I was so driven to right an evil wrong.
My college paper, had me on a mission!
Decades danced away,I forgot what it was.
The Editor, with spine, would not remove my piece!
Faculty grumbled, red-faced, without surcease.
It went to press, entire campus alive and abuzz!
That’s when my desire to write was born.
The Muse to write blew clearly her horn..
Call me, “The Ethical Vigilante!”
I will go after any lies or propaganda, that is fake and scanty.
How vast and pervasive is the Moon?
Hugeness hints there stand two
Orbs and a turbulent stream
Simply like the dawning sun
All over the half-moon horizon.
On the shore of credulity
The froth shed detritus and sea salt
Carving a path into level sand
Slicing the weft out of silk
By cutting across the fabric kernel
The waves were sealed on the scanty shore
The furor was in harmony with the dust
Pearl-like seaweed and scrubber.
Moonlight over the Sea at Dawn
It is ideal and so spectacularly tempting
The churning water bred white foam
I am enthusiastic to have the plunge
The tendons, sinews, and guts were all wary
A season invests these twilight hours
Fetch the ache and gentleness
Misleading magnetism
My inner mermaid is hopeless
The moon was merely out of the embrace.
It related me to a no-blue world
Spume was kicked by white ponies
As they did in our fourth year of dreams
Cantering toward the welling of time
In the utter stiffness at the two ends
Do not feel dire about shedding tears
The spectrum of the dull light
We never noticed.
Written: October 29, 2022
Down the endless road I
Walk.
The road of life or you
May call it the road of
Torment-but know I the
Name.
Along I walk,the trees
Whistling as I journey on
With gentle breeze of the
East caressing my worn-
Out body.
Down I walk,meeting the
Hurdles of life.
I tarried,struggling and
Fighting my way;lo! Am
Stuck in despair and
Dissappointment.
Hoping for no hope to
pull Me thru.
Suddenly,I cried,then a
Saintly hand pulled me
Thru.
On the endless road I
Journey,I saw and heard
Shouts,sounds and smell
Of powder pervading the
Atmosphere:people
Running in confusion.
The sun turned red,the
Theatre bore death.
On my next turn,I heard
Moanings and sounds of
Pleasure,one beckoned
Me,icame I and took part
In the ecstasy-i realised a
Folly it was,went I on.
Passing through
esker,my Body chilled.
Then I reached a dry land
With scanty huts,wetting
My throat in a hut.
With a scorced feet,I walk
On this endless road,I
Witnessed a
gathering,Legs moving in
Rhythm and hands on
Drums,I ate and moved
On.
Came I to a serene
place,I wondered as I
sojourned,the speechless
Mouths and hands
restraining one another
To join the "lonely"body
Below.
I passed a crossed
building;hands clasped in
Gentle procession.
Moved I to pace of
Sustainance;the noisy
Atmosphere,hands
Exchanging needs.
On and on I walk on this
Endless road,when will I
Reach my destination,
When my knell of old St
Antonne tolls?
A little patience,
Tomorrow shall come
And you’ll be a day older.
Just a little patience,
The egg shall hatch
And the chick shall be cock.
A little patience,
The night will be over
And morning shall come.
Just a little patience,
What shall come shall come
And will not wait.
A little patience,
What was lost could be found
And be possessed again.
Just a little patience,
You’ll have your wish
And your dreams come true.
A little patience,
What looks scanty will be plenty
And be more than enough.
Just a little patience,
What was planted would be ripe
And ready for harvest.
Wending my way down a country road in my air-conditioned car,
In yon vale a weathered church steeple beckoned me from afar.
'Twas Sunday morning and the clarion peal of its bell caught my ear.
There stood a simple House of God with a graveyard in the rear.
My faithfulness in matters religious had never been that good,
Since attending Church and Sunday School in my childhood.
But something ethereal drew me to that bucolic setting so serene;
I craved deliverance from my stressful and very hectic routine.
I unobtrusively entered the sanctuary and sat in the very last pew.
An elderly pastor ministered to his flock, who numbered a scanty few.
The ancient hymns they sang evoked fond memories as a lad;
My eyes grew misty as I recalled singing them with Mom and Dad.
The pastor preached a simple sermon based on John Three-sixteen,
That would have stirred the soul of a reigning king or queen!
I left that modest but sacred place with renewed hope in my heart,
Inspired by those timeless truths that old pastor did impart.
I've heard profound oratory in majestic cathedrals o'er this sphere,
But never a more soul-searching sermon will I ever hear,
Than from that humble pastor imparting that message of old,
For the ears and souls of his faithful, God-fearing fold.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex
Neat orderly lines of chairs
Rattling biro pens on sweaty palms.
An echoing hall of icy airs,
exhaling teens failing to stay calm.
A bald figure glares over nervous being through supervising glass,
you will find me right in the middle of a scanty class.
A graveyard of buried dreams.
.
I was made to find ''x'' and i don't understand ''y''
why, ''A B, A B'' was the only rhyme scheme on my answer sheet..
Why, i had to quote and live by the words of another man,
so i could secure an A, B or C on that last day.
Alphabet i might never use in life.
.
Hmmmm...
What if, I get an ''A'' in farming and ''F'' in mathematics??
Does it mean am brainless?
What if,
I can't spell the word ''vehicle'' but can actually fix it?
Does it make me any less better than you?
I can't stand these tests
designed to determine the worth of our mind.
Spindly stretching brambles rebel from main form
Amused bending stems eject spikes of rhino horn
Thorns barely a repellent for birds resourceful
Tweezer glowing twilight globe, a bitter morsel
Fresh field alien green cone births berry's infant
Chantilly lace pale pink petticoat wraps nymphet
Confetti celebratory moult bulges her fertility
Eighty protruding bulbs shiver in vulnerability
Stern season carousel chastens scanty branches
Snow swallow, boggy terrain new tepid attaches
Saw edge foliage unfold, twitching fox ears
Clusters encombour limbs, absinthe adheres
Florid flocks tossle, augment midnight family babble
Morning dew melt sapor stains fingers which dabble
Outcast tongue teaser, lumpy rubber cleaved
Mauve motivate jaunty juice, mouth received
9th August 2022
Written for Contest:
Thoughts on Blackberries
Sponsor:
Matt Caliri
A football star with super speed,
Our prom king, Kyle, has gone to seed.
No longer likely to succeed,
He's out of work and hooked on weed.
Behind you's Jennifer, the one
Who led our cheers and planned our fun.
Most popular, with honors won,
She's sheriff now and totes a gun.
And over there is rotten Chad,
Once cocky jock, now deadbeat dad.
He bullied me and so I'm glad
That his investments turned out bad.
Well, here comes Sue, who was so shy
She never even kissed a guy.
She's since helped seven husbands die,
But always has an alibi.
A wit and prankster of renown
Who backwards wore his cap and gown,
Was Jason there, our class's clown.
The best mortician now in town.
A teenage tramp in scanty dress,
Yvonne no morals did possess.
She'd cheat and lie, so who would guess
She'd be a judge and great success.
Poor Adam there has gone to pot,
His hopes of being doctor shot.
Divorced and now a lonely sot,
The saddest of this sorry lot.
Remember curly-headed Clay,
The eagle scout and closet gay?
He's quarterback for Tampa Bay,
Is out, and wears a full toupee.
Poor Brook, our class's beauty queen,
Who prompted thoughts in boys unclean.
She's gone from slender sweet sixteen
To hugest hips you've ever seen.
And look at Zack, the puny nerd
With build and beak just like a bird.
Once too afraid to say a word,
He's now a billionaire, I've heard.
A romeo, Jake had his fun.
Most every girl he knew, he'd done.
Now congressman in Washington,
His votes are screwing everyone.
There's Beth, who boys refused to date.
Alone for years, she married late.
Her husband left a vast estate.
That hunk she's with is twenty-eight.
Example of the alpha male
Who knew not how it felt to fail,
My buddy, Ethan, went to Yale.
But he's not here 'cause he's in jail.
I view this wreckage with dismay,
This gathering of youth decay.
For one exception, look this way.
I haven't aged a single day.