Best Scritch Poems
It’s cold
It snowed
I shivered
I shoveled
A Solstice sun
Silently smirked
Iridescent icicles
Licked their lips
A crunch of crusted snow
Battled the scritch of shovels
Headless snowmen
Wandered in wonder
I shoveled
I shivered
It snowed
It’s cold
STAMPEDES 'round the screen,
STAMPEDES 'round the kids, T
H
E
Scritch scratch 'round N
! Their match. Everybody E
i Aims to catch W
! Mom's batch of little gamers.
P ! P
E ! E
D ! D
END 'EM ALL Leave alone A
STAMPEDES! our video kids! G
O
G
I
S
T
S
The Fruit of Disappointment
In my garden there is a tree that I planted when it was new,
It was just a tiny sapling then and grew and grew and grew.
But on this tree, although very high, of fruit there were far too few
'Till an ancient gardener spoke to me and told me what to do.
He said, “Find a nest of the Scritch Scratch bird and take a twig or two
And make a posset of Dwindle Weed and a pot of Norridge stew.”
I found Dwindle Weed and a Norridge Plant for the recipe he knew
And with the gathered twigs around the tree a circle I then drew.
Into the circle, as the old man told, the mixture I then threw.
“Now,” he said, “You must wait a year and there'll be fruit for you.”
“Fifty pounds is all I need, then I'll return when the fruit is due.”
No fruit set upon that tree and for many years was overdue.
The ancient gardener did not return and so I thought, “I'll sue.”
But the gardener was never found, or the fifty pounds I blew.
Barry Stebbings
29/10/16
85
Feedback comes to those who apply and post and expect to receive the same
when you place a silver dollar in your mouth you scratch it with your teeth to see if
it is real a man bites down upon it and then looks and frowns or looks and
smiles upon the quarter he has found not silver or even golden but just metal of
some kind its zinc and copper mixes made in Betty Crocker's Kitchens. She has
a tray of circles all lain out upon her divine divan the tails side up for luck she got
this from the JESUS man who tossed his penny in an arc and tried to hit a mark
a line drawn in the sand and made his feet go march to live a different plan a
lifetime being mended his only love he found she makes the things he feels
inside brand new. She stirs her better batter up with a long and spindly spatula
she marks each coin with edges with the cheese garter greater. She takes the
grater to the table and turns each coin by hand she makes four of them for every
dollar in this land. They asked her who is on the image of the coin she laughed
and dimpled smiling she said it must be Dollar Bill. The George Washington
Dollar is the image used for the quarter he gets to be on two. When yew become
the President Of America you can be their two. She stamps the quartered dollars
on the side that just says heads with the handy dandy stamper set she got from
her Uncle Jed for Christmas Past. She turns the coins at last and makes the tails
with her old eagle eye she uses her new leather set to scritch and scratch the
bird the lines formed from habit of making millions in a set in just one day she
filled the Island of Manhattan with 24 additional sets they said they needed them
to buy Manhattan again the previous treaty had run out from the statue of
limitations set back in Washington against the law must be obeyed by every
man. When eye am making a bus ride and eye find a lot of pennies eye ignore
them when eye find a quarter eye do a little more than dance in place eye jig eye
jog eye trip on every log in my haste to find three more it costs one dollar just to
Board the Tran. Betty declined to speak just to the press for she is very shy she
said she knoes now who the image is on the flip side of her coin and eye did not
keep a dry eye when she smiled at me and said without a tremor or a miss it is
Washington, D. C.
9NINtyFIVE5
9NINtyFIVE5
CharlaXFabels
CharlaX
Eye the fabulist fabelist maker of dreams for ewe still remember the poem eye
wrote where eye mentioned the fact that eye think they are liners for birdcages
the most that people have been to me is nice there was a few Christians who
liked some of my poetry for JESUS. This is not a fable in the puerile sense of the
word. BUT this ewe is a giant dandylion poem eye make them bleed eye scritch
and scratch them and twist the ending oblong into infinity. Eye feel a need to
defend myself to my detractors after all even CharlaX had a mother. It was more
than that a family eye had a place to eat a room to sleep. An important man is
never needed until the end too late to make the needed differences. Pomp and
pestle pistle listed they sent my picture eye won a contest all they wanted was for
me to buy a lot of plaque. FlaX and cotton homespun medley lay upon the
CharlaX belly nice long drinks in the afternoon writing a poem making a fabel
swan it leans this way and that way falling to pieces and parts of words become
gentle rain long dripping drops of waterial motion lapping at shadows of love.
Fancy markings of worded pleasures for years of estranger in the wooded glen
fords and glen glens. The caterpillar tracks in the proper syntax is a Diatribe.
Nominal feeds paid out and lost in space with gasses let loose that rival skunks
in size and areal width the size of that thing just look Ethel the size of that thing in
centimeters all alone would equal the lower belt of corn in the Midwestern state
of Iowa they called CharlaX to come he wielded his Hermann Maurice axe phone
and refused to budget a car rental he does not hitch hike anymore he walks back
and forth from one glorious day into the next of time come forth thou CharlaX from
the grave concerns of formidable returns on investments given in earnest
anticipations of reaped rewarded inclinations please come to Kansas and chop
the wheat down with your western ax make bread for all the millions of the crew.
The penny tossed in air so heated by debated frenzy of the sharkless few was
tails a lucky brake for yew.
The Homeless Poet
The Homeless Poet
scritch scratch erase ex ex ex delete
a megabyte of flowering words of expertise
great intolerable words of dissarray
dissing me in moments of clarity searching
for an more simple plan
Oh ewe eye have it now
once again a poem within a poem
Title: see tom
Author: CHARLAX
SEE tom run see tom run
See the bus run see tom
See tom run for the bus
See the bus run from tom
Tom is late for work anon
A moment of clarity on my way to the lieberry kudos to charlax and to Thomas
eye am just a homeless poet riding on the bus
Recall language class?
All “onomatopoeia” -
Blah, scritch, creak, tick, ring!
Your scritchy scratchy beard
Scritch scratches against my sensitive neck
You breathed your hot breath against me
Blowing it in and out
while I read the paper in bed
Your head
Pillowed against me
I crained my neck to see
You snored and snorted
While I drank coffee blissfully
You can't say
months or years
w-/ out trying
to grasp the scale
of Time
involved.
Rubber bands
pinging off one
two three
kidneybean cans,
chosen simply for
occupation of space
line space,
imagery
in a cage. Thats
how I'll write
from now on
pacing the
paperbacked floor
fingernails my only fuel.
Scritch scratching down
the blackboard.
If only to make you
Flinch
My best friend was on the phone,
laughing like a great aunt who had lost her mind
“Joe thought it was dead, but then he saw it making reservations with the dog,” I informed her. “We have a bunch of mice here, many pregnant.
Joe is sleeping outside in the car.
Yes....
My husband of forty-eight years is a bit prissy about small black rodents
full of diseases that run over his foot.
I was in the attic now, a dreary place where I barely dared to put down my lemonade for fear bats would be dive bombing into it or disemboweled entities would be spooking the dog who was crying at the bottom of the steps she cannot climb.
Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch.
I could not tell which pile or garbage bag was making this curious sound.
Raccoons in the attic? Large insane squirrels? A homeless person living with us for the last sixteen years?
“I have to go,” I told my friend. “Family emergency.” I clicked her off.
My friends are okay with my rude ways, choosing to love me anyway.
The noise kept coming.
My attention was suddenly in a corner of a large wiggling garbage bag.
A mouse popped out of the top of it and ran toward me.
Then sixty-two more, a fountain of mice,
running in all directions.
I went downstairs and told my husband there was a black bag I could not lift.
I wandered to the kitchen to fix myself a light lunch, my favorite, a peanut butter, Miracle Whip, lettuce sandwich. I had to scoot two mice off the top
of the peanut butter lid.
But I said "excuse me" of course.
I nearly dropped a gallon of milk when I heard his scream.
I imagine he scared every last rodent out of the house.
Joe is my go-to-man.
Scritch scratch on the record pad
the mad scientist in his lab
expose explosive chemicals collab
evil genius is back in full throttle
full bottle drunk enough to waddle
Are you ready? 3 2 1 Break it down
simplify this is for the underground
stand back i know that your astounded
astrologically you will never follow me
im out of this world forever peace
next time you see me you better keep
to yourself or ill leap
all 17 feet and kick so sweet
youll fall on the street
im a mechanical animal astrall
So take my essence have it in full
FLOODED CLOSET
flooded closet,
got your attention?
washer; and dryer
sent to the dungeon, well
the garage. not our fault.
phone call received in ninety-three,
wouldn’t insure us —
the flood, you know…
have you guessed?
previous occupants.
of course a bit of common sense
supported us.
closet contains lots of shelves,
you can climb
to reach
the attic space,
but a few years back
we built a stairway to the stars.
closets filled with candles —
gifts that give and give
and give off light
used once or twice,
and flashlights,
big and small
and an incense burner
from my son —
he’s an odd gift giver.
a few family games for occasions
requiring members who love to play games —
I do! I do!
but most don’t feel the same.
that old floors cluttered,
not with clothes (how
nice that would have been —
oh the convenience!)
but with a vacuum, stoneware,
cleaning supplies.
I wanted to unclutter,
but is it only a reshuffle?
At least the floor —
I might score a clean in that department,
still i must dust, dust
dust, “achooooo…”
i must wash hands many
many many times
through the process
(one time I encountered dust
and broke out in a rash —
scritch, scratch, scratch)
I just might
get this job
done -
stay tuned.
i expect your yawn
and your finger violin,
“my heart bleeds for you.”
it must get done
then i will move on
to my wardrobe...ahem,
won’t go into that.
11/24/2020
Tear by tear, year to year
Day by day
Memories they all fade away
Tear by tear
Voices in my ears
Words may lay
Promises are all there’s left to say
I may wade through volcanic vaults
My peers never picture me painted at a hault
Jaded memories are tainted, lost and caught
A chance given to blow it
A new set of balls, just living to grow it
I’ll never faulter or kneel down to cry at the alter
Through adversity
It seems my surroundings curse at me
And even if I feel an emotional down
I couldn’t bare it in front of you
So much commotion
Just to share something as blunt as the truth
The withered bed our readers have made for us
Through every line, Scritch, scratch, or mixed up batch
They forever adore us
As if their thank you letters or
“Congratulations you put together a good poem,”
Could bore us
What’s worse than being beaten by tabloids?
Extension cords
Checks with giant letters that say “VOID”
Of course baring the voice of being a lord
For never having more than we could afford
Beef and battles
Is better than fagots on relief and saddles
The ocean is open and blue
But nature won’t let you paddle
And perhaps, we’ll die
And for us our peers will forget to say goodbye
Never to be remembered
When we reach those golden gates
Just pray that we are a member
Hrrrmmmmm
Uhhhhhhhhhh
Oooooooweee
Red ball tickling
Red ball tickling
Scratch scritch
Scritch scratch
Head lower
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Scritch scratch
Scratch scritch
Rolling ball
Rolling ball
Pat, pat, pat
Andhuuuurm
Mmmmuuuuu
Soft skin you
Love me alone.
Love me alone.
And let me out.
Please let me out.
Please.
The lily pad wanted to see some snow
She needed to travel, but where to go?
The mouth of the river had things to say
Beyond the green bridge, that is the way….
She was open to suggestions, of course.
A daughter of Zeus, niece of Thor, king of Norse
Pink sponge floated by and sprinkled on her ash
She jumped a bit, when a canoe gave a crash.
Scratch and scritch a path through the rubble
It is March, so you will not want any trouble
Or you will kill any outside chance
To cross the gully to play and dance
The lily pad listened to the frog named Paint
His eyes could pierce her soul, he liked her quaint
I want to see snow, she confided to this green man.
I am sure you can, he lied. I am sure you can.