Best Scooted Poems
Along the baseboard in a small kitchen
there is a tiny hole, the perfect size to go
unnoticed, perfect for a secret hideaway.
Little twin girls imprisoned at the table
not allowed to leave unless those cold
olive green peas are completely gone!
Canned peas, that had a bit of the flavor
of the tin can infused into them, pushed
around the plate in a marble shoot.
When is she going to leave the kitchen,
quit watching, stop repeating, "eat every one!"
Salty tears dropping on the plate, incapable
of adding any flavor as an hour passes and
little heads are laying on the table beside
the plate with those cursed tiny vegetables
staring back with their small green eyes.
She has to take a trip to the toilet, this must
be timed just right...half the peas leave the plates
and are scooted into the tiny hole in the wall.
She returns, unaware of the subterfuge.
Admonishment causes more tears and little
voices pleading, "they're almost gone". "Not good
enough, finish them or you stay here all night!"
A guardian angel makes the phone ring and she
leaves to answer it. Two little girl's plates quickly
converge upon the tiny hole that gobbles up the
last of those dreaded cold green peas.
She returns and the ordeal is finally over, with
her none the wiser, until a few weeks pass and
she keeps trying to find the smelly odor coming
from the kitchen. She follows her nose to the
secret hideaway exposing the rotted peas.
Infuriation welds up within and then out comes
the razor strap and a painful dance ensues.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Categories:
scooted, children, feelings, hurt, pain,
Form:
Epic
We’ve stopped to park, and it’s no big surprise
you’ve quickly scooted over to my side.
What’s coming next is easy to surmise;
your roaming fingers to my bra strap slide.
I move your hands away. At age sixteen,
it’s not my first time in a young man’s car.
I understand what all the signals mean,
but you must know this can’t go very far!
Your kisses are not too bad, I admit,
but lacking in finesse, too speedily,
You try to take things farther. Then a fit
you throw. Does this show me that you love me?
Just take me home, for I’ve heard plenty of
such tripe as “Trust me baby this is love.”
July 12, 2017
Categories:
scooted, youth,
Form:
Sonnet
Boy and His Scooter
Dr. James E. Martin
©January, 2014
The scooter scooted along
As he sang his favorite song.
He hit a big bump,
And took quite a lump,
On the scooter he does not belong!
Categories:
scooted, humorous, boy,
Form:
Limerick
"Christmas Dinner Fiasco"
on Christmas Eve, family gathered for "Feast of Seven Fishes"
an old Italian tradition while wrapping gifts with expectant wishes
hubby decided to play Chef Boyardee
complete with hat and apron, a fun sight to see
the kitty cats circled dinner table to pounce
licking their whiskers, smelling each tasty ounce.
pumpkin bread baking and homemade apple pie
whipped cream and hot fudge enjoyed with warm sigh
candied sweet potatoes with buttered rolls and biscuits
diet food hidden away like melba toast and triscuits
aromas so yummy the puppies were squealing
soon there was a stampede, sent the kitchen Chef reeling.
tree trimming time once dinner was finished
spirits running high with no chance to diminish
all seated to say grace before this marvelous meal
with colorful palette' and great appetite appeal
underneath the table came growling and gnashing
as felines and canines, over dripping crumbs, were clashing.
the Chef lost his temper and scooted pets to the yard
from inside the hacienda those onry pets were barred
but the doggie door was unlocked so began the invasion
pets on parade on a Christmas Eve occasion
the desserts lined the table like poetic pop art
creme puffs with rum and rice cakes a la carte'.
coffees were carried next to Christmas tree
tinsel and garland with musical lights mystery
but Cali the cat had his own idea of fun
'twas entangled in garland with paws in a bun
and Gabby had stolen a piece of creme puff
his black face was white as snowflake soft fluff.
the Danes sniffed out chew sticks from their stockings
as Raider and Golden ran round the tree in flocking
and sweet little Venus was as good as a dream
enjoying her peaches as she swirled in whipped cream
Christmas dinner fiasco provided laughs with love
as we sang "Deck the Halls' to the good Lord above.
*For Francine Robert's Christmas Dinner With Humor.
*Dec. 2, 2012.
Categories:
scooted, funny, christmas, sweet, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
A program is pending. Kids are milling around,
ending the day on the fall afternoon.
A pamphlet about war is displayed on each desk,
ignored by the class, who are restless, at best.
Just a few books are opened, at the teacher's request
There's a strange mix of whispering, laughter, and squirming.
Chairs have been scooted to make extra room
No one much caring that a speaker is due.
They are just in a hurry to finish the day.
To leave with their friends, get on with their lives…..
The noise in the room hums like bees in hive
A guest soon appears, without much fanfare
Slow is his gait, from a limp. And they stare
how it takes him a moment to gather his words.
His gaze drifts away, to something reserved
His face marked of age, furrows deeply endowed
But, as his story unfolds, ...and the quiet takes hold,
all the air in the classroom is breathless and cold.
And so,.. left behind are scars of the truth
that will mark them forever, give them a cruel
lesson of life, lesson of death, lesson of courage, and much more respect
This was not just a movie, a book or a tale
But truth beyond fiction, a story of hell
The remains of his youth, are now left in their hands
to change what could happen, and never forget
With far-away eyes, and with sage not denied
The frail little man has made the room cry
Their tears brim with outrage, compassion and vows
The room has gone silent, but his light will shine on
The dust motes have settled, sun silvers his hair
Enlightenment enters where dark once appeared
The world at the window is now theirs to own
Somehow grown older……..they watch the man go
with the tears of their sorrow, on a fall afternoon
Categories:
scooted, holocaust,
Form:
Free verse
Yesterday was parents evening
The last of the primary years
I wasn't sure what the focus would be
Didn't know what I wanted to hear
But then, waiting in the corridor
Seeing parents earnestly questioning
I realised the only thing I care about
Is how happy Rachel is feeling
So I scooted up to the desk
Nearly knocking the table over
I smiled at the teacher I know so well
We were definitely in this together
"So is she happy?" is what I asked
"Yes always" is what I was told
"She's helpful and friendly and cheery"
What else matters in this world?
Of course I heard all the levels
And the progress and points to improve
But I'd heard in the first two minutes
All I needed to feel well soothed
At the end of the figures
And all the necessary stuff
I asked if there was anything I could do
"No, you do more than enough"
So we laughed about parents evening
Her teacher and I as a team
And rather than frowns as I left
I gave Rachel a massive grin
"You're amazing" was what I told her
"Working hard and are happy to boot,
I'm so proud of all you are doing"
That's all I want her to know as the truth
Categories:
scooted, daughter, mother daughter, parents,
Form:
Free verse
I would love to visit Africa
I would love to visit the heart of Africa
there's no doubt it would have my heartbeat
my ancestry, my love, my wide open eyes
dad told me long ago
as i scooted close to his campfire
that his families namesake
traced to towns, rivers, counties in Africa
i was overwhelmed
really, really
me a white guy, somewhat
and Japanese, Polish
but it's true when you see my last name
maybe the roots traced back to the beginning of time
really, really
who knows, but it's true
it's true, i say
someday, when the sunshine's on me
and the weathers fine
i would love to go to Africa, and visit
... hopefully
with the black bear, the one here
or the one in my imagination ...
the one that always loves to get her nose stuck
in the honey jar,
i love that ... it's so her
okay that was a joke
because i love to joke
because i'm a funny bunny, too
i dream, does it hurt to dream?
i dream of that day
and opportunity
for a bouquet of flowers,
black bear's name on it or not,
i would love to ride the Congo river
the breeze in my face, riding the look,
khakis, a Congo hat, her in my arms
man, how i dream
the look would be fine
is that bad,
can it get any better?
i dream of riding an elephant
the biggest and wildest elephant
okay that was an exaggeration
because i'd be scared
give me a baby elephant that's fine
and visiting the lion and tiger safaris
and mingling with the natives
and buying a sari for her, especially for her
i dream of checking into the hotel
in Africa, a nice hotel overlooking a lake
with Congo trees dancing to my presence
... see how i dream, i told you
and having the front desk do a double take
of my last name
and then ...
i would just roll my eyes, for effect, maybe to impress
... only her
connie pachecho
3/8/17
Categories:
scooted, adventure, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
It was the Nebraska Corn Huskers annual spring game
When near the end they called out Jack Hoffman's name
A seven year old boy on treatment break from a brain tumor
And today he was going to get the ball and run for an amazing score
Running onto the field 60,00 fans up on their feet
Everyone sensing they were about to see something neat
As Taylor Martinez set his line and turned around to little Jack
With a field of dreams ahead he said okay now you're my running back
Handing him the ball he quickly ran left than scooted back to the right
And on that field their were twenty one other men who joined in with his fight
Making a break into a clearing seeing a whole lot of daylight just ahead
My soul so awake the whole crowd cheering for of all them now he had lead
Over the goal line and carried away in a boisterous parade of celebration
Oh how Jack did shine even with all of the problems that he was facing
I'm glad I got to pray for that little boy hopefully many others do too
Such a special gift in sensing joy in just knowing throughout that it is certainly true
Search: Jack Hoffman Cornhusker
Categories:
scooted, courage, football, joy, ,
Form:
Rhyme
I.
One week to the day,
His beloved was taken away.
Within the confines of their edifice
He told himself, I can’t go on like this.
Numbly, at his sides, he clenched his fists;
While contemplating, at that very moment, to slit his wrists.
He extracted a knife from a kitchen drawer
And sat down cross-legged on the linoleum floor.
On the first attempt he hesitated and it hurt like hell,
The blade slipped from his grip and to the ground it fell.
Though the wound botched and shallow it did the deed;
Oh so very quickly he did bleed.
Blood coursed out of him pooling about on the floor.
Fleetingly he thought, in this world I’ll be no more.
With light giving way to darkness, the end was near.
Yet, with her in his thoughts, there was no fear.
Death being on him in any second,
He knew for sure, when it arrived, he’d be in her presence
II.
Suddenly, he was jolted awake in a peculiar place,
Awakened to the stare of an unfamiliar face.
Then he took notice to millions of legs carrying bodies about.
At that very moment he began to shout,
“What is this place and why am I here?”
Not a single person seemed to take notice or hear;
They all just scooted and shuffled around.
I’m going to find out what’s going on here he was bound.
He got to his feet and decided to head west;
Though, with the sun straight overhead, it’d be a guess at best.
Standing still for some time to plot the course of the sun,
He decided it had moved absolutely none.
Awestruck and questioning, Where am I at and how can this be?
It seemed, to him, to be a complete impossibility.
As his blurred vision clarified, he scanned the terrain
And the sight he caught filled him with horrified disdain.
Several unscaleable mountains, on three sides, flanked him,
Leaving the only other route blocked by a bottomless chasm.
Then he took notice to the innumerous faces’ expressions;
They all had the same look of immortal depression,
Brought on by shambling about aimlessly for eternity.
He knew, without a doubt, he’d eventually give in to the same conformity.
Suddenly, a notion came to his head:
He thought, am I alive or dead?
Or is this some kind of laboratory?
No, he told himself, this is purgatory!
Categories:
scooted, death, religion,
Form:
Rhyme
The sun goes down as we set off through bushes,
equip with homemade torches in hand,
A wish to catch land crabs by the bushels,
And stuffing our large crocus sack was our plan.
Focused to hear crabs crawling on the ground,
shoving vines and branches out of our way,
Thrilled to glimpse a yellow crab crawling around,
I launched forward, but it scooted away.
When the soil is damp, earth crabs roam about.
Fast you must be, if you hope to catch one,
They are quick and with their claws; they lash out!
Sometimes you end up catching none.
Crabs are assumed a fine delicacy for some,
They are cooked in plenty of interesting ways,
Stuffed, boiled, stewed, and you can bake them.
It can be discovered on any menu most days.
Categories:
scooted, adventure, animal, culture, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Sprinkle More Lies
Sweet little lies we bank upon when the heart goes weak
And insecurities bar ears from wanting to hear truths
Yet beautiful in themselves, bringing surplus happiness
My little babe fell down and bruised her knee
She wailed loud to raise a pandemonium
I medicated her wound and kissed it
And clicked my fingers saying, 'It is fine!'
My love looked at her bandaged knee
Smiled, hugged me and scooted off to play
She worked her way up to graduation level
On the day of her final exam she was nervous
She hadn't heard the alarm ring making her frantic
I calmed her nerves, gave her sweetened curd
Telling, 'God's honeyed blessings are with you!'
Trust in my words worked like magical fulfilments
In the flow of life we are buffeted with embankments
So strong that it can't erode despite flooded waters
Childhood experiences became lessons to face realities
A serious mishap wasted my looks and left me with a limp
My girls and hubby hovered around, 'Wow Mom!
You look more gorgeous !' and I worked towards recovery
Our lives are enmeshed in beautiful webs of lies
Stretching like oceans steering towards the skies
Shower more joys in my life with these sweet little lies!
June 27, 2016
For Silent One
Sweet Little Lies
Categories:
scooted, baby, childhood, confidence, daughter,
Form:
Free verse
There is a legend of a cowboy down in Texas
To whom they give the sobriquet of Pecos Bill.
It's said he rooted and he tooted
As across the plains he scooted,
Stetsoned, jeaned, bowlegged, and booted,
Pursuing cows and wooing gals
As was his skill.
The story goes one day while Bill was out romancing,
A cyclone came and rudely whisked the gal away.
He hopped atop the thing to ride it,
Quickly lassoed and hogtied it,
Then none the worse for wear and tear and rough foreplay,
Out stepped the gal,
And Pecos Bill had saved the day.
Now, legends often tend to get a bit inflated,
And this one here is no exception to the rule.
Some say it's too exaggerated,
I say it's well imaginated.
Like alimony oilmen often pay their exes,
Things are always so much bigger down in Texas.
Of course, it's hogwash, rubbish, bunk,
And yet how often have I thunk
That the tale of Pecos Bill is kinda cool.
Categories:
scooted, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Late one night
I decided to write...
While musing in silence
My computer was in defiance
As I scooted to the keys
My thoughts began to be un-eased
As the program stood still
I kept rebooting until~
I realized what was happening
That ole boy needed new programming
He kept doing the rebooting boogie
‘Til every virus was gleaned, and tossed away-- Happily
There’ll be no more of that boogying today
Categories:
scooted, art, caregiving, computer-internet, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
I was a strange child.
I never crawled as a child.
I always scooted.
Scooted right on my behind.
Until I began to walk.
Categories:
scooted, childhood, life, social
Form:
Tanka
I walk in the pathetic pages of a used tired book
Crushed by the heavy leaves that lied to me
The older I become, the angrier I see
orange, red, yellow peeling
Panting, painting, pelting poems
against a soggy canvas and sagging
lines like tired feet held together with
sad gray shoes
We're the oldest ones here
The doctor is so young
The lawyer is a child
The children are all grown
My grandbaby is going to college
Still when I brushed my hair today
and sashayed by you
a lilt to my tongue and a
swagger in my lips
I curved a kiss to you and
blew an ocean of windtossed
leaves
I scooted under them
like a silly child
Smelling the earth
Rooting like a piglet
When did Tubman push her
passengers along
Putting nails in trees to indicate
the turn in the fog
the fork in the road
If she could work into
the autumn and beyond
Why kant I rite the lanterns
of my life?
And in autumn
You don't need permission
To fall and land in earthy
grandeur
Staggering, solemn, orange
Reborn like a felled tree
Categories:
scooted, black african american, family,
Form:
Bio