Best Scrawny Poems


Scrawny Kid

Scrawny Kid
Part one

Do you remember that Scrawny kid?
What’s his name in Class 4D,
Constantly holding on to himself,
Running out of class, desperate for a pee.
Never had a Handkerchief,
Always wore Green sleeves.
Spiky hair and worn out shoes,
That smell that made us heave.
Talked with a nervous stutter,
and didn’t have a special friend.
Kept forgetting his homework,
Lame excuses he couldn’t defend.
Remember when it came to Sports,
My God he got some stick,
Absolutely useless at everything,
Always the last to get picked.
His Jumper had massive holes in it,
Knees bloodied, scabbed and cut,
Couldn’t answer any questions,
Empty head, brain closed tight shut.
We knew he was going nowhere,
Just another life, under achiever.

Then my jaw dropped to the floor,
I’m no longer a disbeliever.

Part Two

Yes, that’s it, now I recall his name,
Scrawny Luke Took, from Class 4D.
Well, not so Scrawny anymore,
Torso carved like, a great Oak tree.
Not the sort you’d push around,
Runs a Gym down Knightsbridge way.
Tailor made suits, slick black hair,
and a motivational speaker, they say.
Married to a Hollywood Actress,
Drives a flashy Ferrari Car.
Has his own range of fragrance,
One thing is true, he’s definately gone far.
His handkerchiefs are made of silk,
Sleeves of finest Green Kashmir,
No longer that nervous stutter,
Oozing confidence for all to hear.
Never did his homework, way back then,
But clearly didn’t do him no harm.
The perfect city gentleman,
With a wealth of talent and charm.
So, he didn’t have an empty head,
And knew where is destiny lay,

Don’t be fooled by the Scrawny kid,
He’ll be better than us all one day.
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.

Scrawny Tony

Scrawny Tony gaunt and bony scraggy bag of beastly bones
           He was pony de la Manchu chum of  Mister Marty Jones
                            He had an intense perception
                            And skills of great execution
        In a sense of perfect destructiveness he chomped my hipbones









© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 2014

Scrawny

Bones poorly covered
stretched out long, cleaved by tight skin.
People can be mean.
© Ijm Seven  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Scrawny Little Trees

scrawny little trees
on the edge of a creek bank
say much in their form

Russell Sivey

Premium Member A Scrawny Little Thing

I saw her tens of yards before she noticed me
Matter of fact, I was enthralled and intrigued.
With the confidence of a five star general 
She was lining up the neighborhood kids
A formidable foe or a major asset

Although we never spoke, I watched and learned
Where does this confidence come from?
Was it something inbred or learned?
She barked orders, and the other children fell into place
She was a scrawny little thing, weighing nothing.
But a queen, a czar, a flying ace.

Her hand on her hip, she began redirecting.
The children scrambled, trying to please her.
I smirked and smiled, trying to look away.
But I could not, for I was fascinated by her.
God had somehow given her the blessings we all want.
Confidence, satisfaction, joy, and the gift of persuasion.
What are you doing here? An old lady asked me.
“Just observing the pretty flowers,” I said.
 I moved along….

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