Best Scrappy Poems
predictable pairing
like plans and lovers
two sparrows fly, flirt
wing beats hyped
to dull the scent of overcrowded news
in spring air, grinning
scrappy species
two birds that pitch and swoop
an operatic flow
their sheen of relatability
braided together
a courtship gallantry
in circled bolts
when two birds fly about you
suspenseful joy
like an untroubled sigh
re-directing thought
seasonal movement
a flight of promise
that opens to the sky
Flightless, the smallest such bird,
he’s hopping about madly now,
dexterous little feet grab what they can -
he lost his beak decades ago
to a merciless marauder drone –
here, some tiny, thorny little twigs,
there, a footful of leaves nearly blown by
among better leaves flown by.
The wind is relentless,
he’s never known it more violent,
but he hasn’t known it any calmer either.
It’s already blown tons of wisdom
whistling past and around him,
that airborne car nearly hit him,
the airborne fridge was even closer,
but he’s lucky to be small enough
to be narrowly missed
and able to find little crevasses
to hide in when he needs a rest.
The smallest flightless bird,
he might take involuntary flight
in the clutches of absurd winds,
but somehow he stays on the ground.
The frayed old edge of a dog-blanket
is next across his path,
blown from the prison out south,
and he’s got it ! He grabbed it !
Well done, flightless little rascal.
Everything he’s gathered
will be the scrappiest little nest
ever known to man or bird,
he’ll clumsily patch it all together
in the smallest tree
(he, of all birds, needs a small tree),
small as his greatest preconceptions,
strangely anchored by the deepest root
known to brainwashed man or tree.
The wind, so crafty, is drunk with power,
it might blow that mountain
against the side of a bigger mountain,
they’ll both be scarred
for a good few minutes at least.
But that ragged little nest will be built
and he’ll simply never leave it,
he’ll make it scrappier by the day.
19th December 2018
Choosing a favorite President is quite an arduous task
Given that most politicians usually wear a spurious mask,
but as a student of History, there was one that I admired;
" the scrappy kid from Kansas."* So many he has inspired.
In his biography there's a plethora of interesting information.
'Ike" was a 5 star general, besides leading this great nation.
A war hero, selected to be America's Commander and Chief.
A man of great integrity, who did not cause his country grief.
In his honor, a Washington Memorial was dedicated.
His bravery in war, and acts as President are celebrated.
After the war, he commanded European NATO forces
and overthrew communism from it's evil courses.
Voted U. S. President in 1952, with the slogan, "I Like Ike,"
Richard Nixon was his running mate; they were nothing alike.
In two terms served, he created a grand legacy for his name.
A President for the people, to him the office was not a game.
There are many valuable quotes that Eisenhower left behind
and I'll end with a few that I feel worthy for us to keep in mind;
none more appropriate than this one, I was happy to find...
"Some day there is going to be a man sitting in my present chair who has not been raised in the military services and who will have little understanding of where slashes in their estimates can be made with little or no damage. If that should happen while we still have the state of tension that now exists in the world, I shudder to think of what could happen in this country."
"The middle of the road is all of the usable surface. The extremes, right and left, are in the gutters."
"Leadership consists of nothing but taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong and giving your subordinates credit for everything that goes well."
"If a political party does not have its foundation in the determination to advance a cause that is right and that is moral, then it is not a political party; it is merely a conspiracy to seize power."
February 11, 2021
Your Favorite President Contest
Sponsored by: L Milton Hankins
*Inscribed on the Eisenhower Memorial
Twilight Time in the City
Hear the hum of the Honda and Hundai,
It’s twilight time in the city.
Yellow boxes empty streams of ants
Into the twilight of the city.
Day care Dads and maudlin Moms
Kiss scrappy little lads and lasses;
Asking their moppets “How were your classes?”
It’s twilight time in the city.
When skyscrapers twinkle their first night lights,
An orange juice sun pours into purple night,
Smells of smoke from outdoor grills
Promising mouth-watering fare to fill.
McDonald’s lines are long for McDinners,
While some are on decks with flutes of wine,
Drones of commuter planes overhead, a sign.
It’s twilight time in the city.
A Wolf...A Lamb...A Wolf
Forgetting myself...started with me
To be sweet, to be quiet...to fit in.
Conformity!
Impress by agreement. A Lamb I could be.
Convince all my thoughts;
Copacetic is me
*So it began...
My best thought is, I'm at peace. I'm content.
Be positive! I can do this!
Be like a lamb.
Softly; I'm a breeze. Calm in my soul.
Gently I'll allow, only good thoughts to flow
Small, inconspicuous... I'll learn, it's me
Just nod in unison, always agree.
*I am a Lamb...
My favorite thought is;
I'm about love, not despair.
Quiet my being.
Silently there.
My thoughts do whisper,
a pleasing hushed ease
'I am not conflict'
For lambs, only, please.
What?!!
*I am a Lamb.
My finest thought is;
I'm wonderfully bright.
As a golden suns warmth slowly softens my light.
Embrace others truths, as they are my own.
So they won't see it, I can't be alone. Suddenly. I feel
like a liar!...A cheat!
Conforming isn't me!
My own thoughts rise, to defeat.
Forcing their way, repossessing my soul
I am 'not' a lamb kept under control!
Fueling my mind, with courage and might.
My confidence is back! Submission won't fight.
*I am 'Not' a lamb.
My true thoughts are; I'll regain what's been sold.
Get back my old self, feel enlightened and bold.
My thoughts are not truths! What I believe, is my right!
My true self is brave! Be damn sure, I will bite!
*I Am a Wolf
My only thought now is; I'm seeing me, so clear.
I am 'not' a Lamb,
I'm a Wolf without fear!
To deviate or follow. To protest or agree.
My thoughts are my own!
To decide, up to me
*I AM a wolf!
Now, I am genuine. Honest and free.
I'll behave as I choose, I've re-found the true me!
I will brown nose to no one or be a doormat for love.
Take me or leave me, herein and above.
I'll be contented and scrappy, 'cause that's who I am!
Definitely a Wolf.
Not particular to Lamb.
I Will not comply
I Will not lie down
I Will not go quietly
I Will not submit
I Will not roll over
I Will not shut up
I Am Not a Lamb!
These dudes funny like "Nickelodeon"
I see how these "Cartoons Network"
Come in "Dexters Laboratory " I'm Writing "Explosives"
Blues Clues "Cues" in my "Excerpts"
Mandark hating thinking "Quotients"
Mad cuz I'm Hot like "Petroleum"
Writing Science like I'm follower of "Newtonian"
Dexter soul hot full of "Sodium"
My Lab keep "Exploding" Heal my wounds with "Collodian"
No Andrew Jackson young president this my "Jacksonian"
I'm my own general no "Napoleon"
Lab full of "Lectures"
So fly like I knitted myself "Feathers"
What's wrong with these "Goofys"?
Whole Tune Squad "Looney"
My homie Charlie Brown an I'm "Snoopy"
With Velma and "Snookie"
Scrappy with me and "Scooby"
Her eyes red low like "Droopy"
Thinking like Aloysius "Animo"
Feeling myself like Johnny "Bravo"
I'm ten gods amongst these "Demongos"
Boy genius like "Gizmo"
I'm waiting to flex on "Rayona"
Flexing my muscle like "Ishiyama"
Greedy with my glory I'm "Kaz Marada"
I was raised by Vanna "Pira"
Watch me beast like "Badaxtra"
Welcome to the Camp of "Lazlo"
Too many clowns in this Circus Freak "Show"
Know you part of the Circus Freak "Trio"
Too many Jokers an "Zombozos"
I tell these Goofys I'm fly like I'm "Plato"
We would go to the forgotten towns of west Texas
Places that we couldn’t name and hunt for their souls
Sometime it was on the roadside a place they had been abandoned
Sometimes in and old house broken and forgotten
She’d stand there in her boots and ragged old skirt and start to sing
A lonesome strain of an old cowboy song
And they would come to her and as they did we would lay them down beside her
Put them to rest one final time.
Jack would play the fiddle and me the tambourine
Scrappy would join in on the guitar and we’d work the place until we had all those lost spirits
Standing in the corners or sitting in the shadows
They came to us waiting for a final place to rest.
Some where girls an others young caballeros
Who’d lost their way in a crash to their final destination
She’d sing “My Rifle, My Pony and Me” and they would enter her soul
Annie would take as many as she could and then we would have to leave
She would collapse on the ground and we would carry her to the car
And drive far into the desert close to the borderline
We would start a fire and begin to sing and play once again
And the spirits would leave her one by one some painfully some like flowing water
Then we would head to the nearest town and buy some tequila
and drink until dawn…
We did this for years until Annie couldn’t stand it any longer
One day she said she lost her taste for the dead and she never sang again
I can still hear her voice down by the river
Flowing across the rocks and down along the bottoms
And I wonder where she ended up for I lost her in El Paso
Never once she said and twice would be forever….
So now I sing those songs hoping to remember that lonesome sound
That woke the dead and brought them to our souls
Sometimes it seems like yesterday but I know it is a lifetime from this place
THOUGHTS OF A JAMAICAN CHRISTMAS
I remember Christmas of yesteryear
Of John Canoe dancing with fife and drum
Horsehead would approach, it was scary but fun
And Scrippy scrappy looked like a real bum
Of Christmas breeze and Poinsettias red
Mixed with white Euphorbias in the flower bed
A visit to Nathans for cloth to make dresses
And drop curls all round my head for my tresses
I liked going downtown on Christmas Eve
Where the bustle of King Street was hard to believe
With balloons and horns, and pretty hats to choose
And noisy rattles to drive our parents to booze
Vendors lined the sidewalks their offerings laid bare
There were shouts for attention but nothing to fear
Next came a visit to Dixon’s Toy Shop
Where I didn’t want the choosing to stop.
Christmas Carols rang out through the air
Then at church the next morning with voices clear
Back home we were greeted with eggnog, and were free
To open our presents that were under the tree
At Christmas dinner our relatives we’d see
As the Miller clan gathered it was exiting for me
There was exchange of gifts and the joy of giving
It was really a great and wonderful feeling
The food was a spread of delectable flavors
Of turkey, rice and peas, sweet potato and lamb
Ackee and salt fish, roast beef, salad and ham
And I just can’t forget the Cranberry jam
The variety was great, too many to mention
And the carving of the turkey got everyone’s attention
But best of all was the sorrel, Christmas pudding or cake
Which gave us kids a chance to get tipsy or flake.
At night we brought out our starlights and clappers
The boys would light thunderbolts and we would run backwards
These memories are happy, in my mind they will stay
And I blend them with those we are experiencing today.
Winsome Miller-Rowe
Orange crush
Bleachers on a sunny day
Standing underneath
Hiding in the shade
Woke up there
After an all nighter
Party at the field
Smoking crack
And huffing nitrous
What a scream
Old Skinny Scrappy
Brought a guitar
And we sang and sang
Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bob Seeger
It seems we sang all the Bobs
But who would ever know
Mixed up in drinks and smoke
We might have sang Ramblin’ Rose
Now the sun filters through the bleachers
Our lives are littered with fear
We are like vampires and must
Get the hell out of here
For we are creatures of the night
The people you never see
We make the news every now and then
But for the most part we are free
We mean no harm and deliver no malice
Just let us live apart
From your BMW’s and soccer moms
And Sunday Bible School
We ain’t the loving kind
We are the partying kind
No future is so clear
So I leave you now with just one thought
And let me be loud and clear
We will always be here so give us our space
And we will let you to pretend to own the world.
For the love of Salt and Sea
A man,
Standing tall and feelin free.
With his old raggedy clothes,
Pipe
And his sunburnt nose.
On the bow of Ole Navy,
Just watching,
And waiting for the Jubilee.
With a voice that is raspy,
Calling out
For his old dog Scrappy.
The sun will soon be risen,
nets to be lowered,
boats could be seen on the horizon.
For the love of salt and sea,
A man,
Whose home was never in Tennessee.
Bent to touch waters of blue,
A smile,
A rendezvous.
A knowing,
His days were coming to a close,
Peering deep, forgoing.
For the love of salt and sea
A longing
Now a spirit set free.
© Deborah Seale Schnadelbach
GOODLUCK
Gutless muffled monarch wooed millions to the poll,
Our feeble lord enforced by pathetic speech of poverty (I once had no shoes)
On congruent grounds of pain we forced him, though we hated his coterie.
Disappointed, we wail waiting surrogate to lead to unending journey of relief
Lackluster, jejune as pervading rot lingers
Unvaried captain rocks our boat, gagged around by plunderers.
Circles of death, twinge, pauperdom and miseries mocks the reign of naivety.
Kleptocrat adorn self in regalia, loved the honor. lacks duty
EBELE
Embezzlers of collective trust bequeathed in hope,
Bandits as conniving ministers besmirched our obtuse scamp
Egregious, craven, shrieked at the sound of war (I am not a lion)
Laggard lumper loon left fanatical murderers at our doorsteps
Encumbrances from his delinquent clan divide the love for mother land
DAME
Damp squib's duchess of indecent tongue, never feels a vestige of restraint
Academic 'double misnomer' with licence to libel,
Merriment and intrigue feigned as obligations,
Edgy. encumbrance though ceaselessness forms their amity.
PATIENCE
Punk pretending and purloining to private vaults
Adventurous nerve for futile globe trot
Twitchy at the affairs of state, though Unemployed by sensible Poll
Intoxicated by serendipity, shaming all with activity
Euphemistic drama Usurps Scrappy literacy on cultured observers
Crude verbiages to amuse myriad of eggheads (my Fellow widows)
Encomium of Yesterday's approval turned sour and Tsar inept mode prevails
Jokers jostled in enthusiasm to rule, (politicking for 2015)
Onslaught from 'Boko-Haram' drove sleep from wearied countrymen
Numbed as "hoipolloi" echoed NO to mistimed removal,
Alas, the fraud, rapscallion looted the poor to a blindfold
Tyrannic cloaked his garb in power busted on the streets with the troop
Higgledy-piggledy bugled the travesty of Democracy
Amidst the rubble of a crumbling amalgam
Nigerian Lords watched the drama secured among a troop we die helpless
I will be with you tonight,
Fondly sharing the love of your beholding sight,
Embraced meanwhile by the warmth of your absence,
Blazing passion causes me to be happy,
Distance displays disputes readily promoting a fight.
Thus conflict arouses beeping conscience,
Challenges cautiously undergone spark up our zeal,
Scattered arrangement declares the shyness of my heart,
Always adjudged is I as evidently scrappy,
True to it is our love as the mild touch of a moonlight folk tale,
My Angel; certainly our love is measurable on no earthly scale,
Fortunately I gained the love others resolved to steal,
You remain the key to unlock my passion in the illuminating darkness of a night,
Softly my heart craves for your deserved presence.
Man's best friend or "just a dog"
I've had this debate forever
But my dog is something,different,unique
Something otherworldly..however...
Aries is his name...he's tan and white
With deep and soulful brown eyes
This "I'm just a dog" and I know nothing's
Very obviously a disguise
Did you ever wonder for just a split second
If there was more to your pet than you
knew?
If maybe,just maybe..this lovely creature
knew more about your destiny than YOU!!!
You see I don't wonder this,I take it as fact
And MANY have called me insane
But sit and stay are just a teeny glimpse of
what's being held in his brain
She's sad she's mad she's hurting right
now and he's licked the tears off my face
If you can't tell THAT is a guardian angel
then that is a sad sad disgrace
These pets that we love are here for a
reason,placed in our lives just so
For reasons like the people are placed in
our lives,reasons we may never know
The only thing I seem to know for sure is
that dog is my only true friend
He has been since birth and always will be
now until the very end
Corny I know,a poem about a pet that says
oh I love you and you ate so cute
But the next time you take a good look at
scrappy...just think...do they know more
than we do???
My feet are stuck in the muck, cried Chuck the duck.
Sean the swan came to his rescue across the lawn,
Chuck, grab my wing, and we’ll swing into the spring!
Chuck used his beak, as chic feathers tickled his cheek,
They flew out of the muck, we’re now unstuck, Sean clucked.
Chuck felt happy, Sean felt scrappy as they fished for crappie.
Chuck felt struck with luck as he caught one, but it stuck,
Sean the swan, brave and brawn, caught the prawn.
Now a pack, enjoyed their snack, as they happily clacked!
Here's another story that I just made up
That just can't wait to be told
About a weary prospector, down on his luck
That gave his life for his gold
He was way up yonder in the hills, they say
Just him and his scrappy old mule
That poor old mule didn't have no teeth
So he'd sit around the camp and drool
Now that prospector, who we'll call Jake
Was as secret as he could be
He didn't like people snooping around
So he wasn't much for company
See, Jake had been on that mountain
For nigh on twenty years
But he never did hit the mother load
With all his sweat and tears
Then, one day he decided to go fishing
A fish pulled him right in the river
He tried to hang on with all of his might
It's hard to do when you shiver
Jake looked up and was headed toward the falls
So he decided he'd better let go
When he dropped that line, he sunk like a rock
And started thrashing to and fro
Now, Jake was a real good swimmer
He was on the prospector's Olympic team
But, everytime his head went under
All he could do was scream
Now Jake had prospected his whole life
But now, he was getting pretty old
He didn't know the reason he was drowning
But his pockets were full of gold
When he figured it out, he had gold fever
And he refused to let it go
All poor old Jake could think about
Was he finally hit the mother load
See, when that old fish had jerked him in
He was dragging him on the bottom
There was gold just laying everywhere
And that's where his pockets got 'em
Poor old Jake drowned that day
Richest man in the world, I think
His old mule was standing on the bank
Drooling, as he watched him sink
They fished his body out of that river
The next morning before dawn
But they found both pockets as empty as could be
It was stolen by a leprechaun
Well, I guess it's time for me to go
I can see as I look at my clocks
But if you really wanna protect your prospector's gold
Then let me suggest Fort Knox