Best Scraps Poems

Off on tangent thinking avoiding stuff
And I read:
"The space between stars is not empty"
It's beautiful and despite knowing we're talking dust clouds it just feels important 
Like the space between thoughts, the space between people, the space between life and death, the spaces filled with...

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In my treasures like all of us hold,
I have a bedspread, a fad of old.
My mother cut millions of circles of scraps,
From our little outgrown dresses she’d hold.

She’d sew each circle into a little puff
And lay it out on a sheet of pale green,

Then make...

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Sochi Scraps
            by Odin Roark

Among my pen’s rifling
Hunting its own needs
His imagined snout moves across the page
Seeking out beggary nourishment

A shantytown of doghouses
Provided by an animal-sensitive philanthropist
Fills rapidly with the rush to save
Before pest...

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Scraps of Paper

in my pocket with a word,
written
or a line,
about what I think about,
or what I want to think about.
usually,
just a word.

when a thought is complete-
i stop,
and think of you
the wonder and fascination
just a word.

when my life is over, I want to leave behind,
these scraps...

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Scraps of paper mark his "paper-trail"
thoughts - quick scribbled as they passed
through the misty gate of ageing's veil
cling to a dream that couldn't last
sad ending to a lover's fading tale.

Notes that measure time and date and place
carried in the emptiness of now
moments that the present...

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The wind that bends the sticks and stems
Sends a message that makes the lights grow dim
I don't know when, but I will transcend
This disaster and all its whims and trends
After fomenting rebellion I was soon rescued
And all I could think about was my niece and...

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You feel you'll never find love;
no matter how hard you try.
And yet, you still cling to hope;
wiping a tear from your eye.

You have little left to give;
emptied of all but your soul.
And your social life's askew;
a square peg in a round hole.

You're led to believe...

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Momma made Dorothy a dress from the scraps off the factory floor,
And a quit from worn out garments that were worn before.
And the old buttons that survived became the christmas sock dolls eyes. 
She raised a family just on scraps, that kept us warm and...

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high priority insecurity
gastro-growling, 
a peckish fling
in the food desert - 
not dessert - desert
this lip service 
don't a mouth fill

maybe one of five
on the sleigh's edge 
gazing at the growling wolf 
of slowly going down,
ground down into an 
early grave ground

raw capitalism just 
too hard...

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Within my bags of quilting stuff
Are lots of little scraps,
The remnants of some projects
Which I saved, thinking perhaps…

I would use them in the future
Like they once did long ago
When they gathered snips of fabric
And a patchwork quilt they’d sew.

It was done then from necessity
So nothing...

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Fighting for scraps

It’s so puzzling for the needy
To understand how we got so greedy

They had it all to share
No walls or borders back there

They didn’t appreciate, it’s so sad
That they allowed the lie to drive them mad

The more they wanted the less they had

No need...

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Tie together
the stories of the past
a broken heart
a teardrop or two

And a half written poem
about the color blue

A notebook
jammed with my history
and dotted with rhymes

an old porch swing,
nearly forgotten 
I remember those times

A poem of laughter
or sadness
of joy

A torn love note to me
with the worst...

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Henry VIII
Henry VIII king of England, he had six wives,
Half of which had rather shorter lives.
Three died, two divorced and the last was glad by far,
For she outlived him, her name Catherine Parr.

Mash
I love mash,
I have a secret stash.
I use up all my cash,
To go...

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Chimes, misdemeanors
serenity finger tips
fickle graced etudes...

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Dinner scraps, primal deathtraps.
Life’s meal is the class struggle,
and some of us are left starving.
We are the movement of the masses,
a sleeping colossus running on
corporate time.

Dinner scraps, merciless steel traps.
We are measured only as commodities. 
We give our lives as wage chattel.
We make our homes...

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