Best Scrubby Poems

I am an Outlander
Who lives on a high hill
Overlooking a man-made lake
That once was a rapidly rushing river
Along whose banks the Ozarks Bluff Dwellers and the Osage and then Delaware
Hunted, fished, and created shelter
For their families
Where their children ran freely
While red-tailed foxes sneaked softly
Through the...

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My Tired And Lost Soul Next This Wise Advice Out It Screams

As harder blown dry winds skulk among oldest granite stones
And the spitting sun flamed the mass of white desert sand
I trekked alone, jagged pains pulsing through my old bones
My weathered soul cursed God of...

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Peter a farmer from Scrubby Creek,
 Seldom washed his great big feet,
  His fed up wife would complain 
      About the odorous strain
When in summer it reached its peek....

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Who is Bigfoot’s Great-grand Daddy?

Whether living in a city or on the mountain side,
People from the world around astound us with their views.
He’s nine-feet tall, a hairy thing, uprightly he flees astride.
Only tracks are left behind and the mystery accrues.

They say that Big Foot does...

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I Am The Artist Of My Life

Aloft the hills I sit
The world behind
The clear sky above
I, my master,
And my soulful thoughts
Reaching nothingness.
So what is this life all about?

I continued my journey
To reach my snowy summit 
Before the birds return to their nestlings.
Perusing over the years...

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Trying to find something to think about...
sporting yellow shorts, & an old blue and white Jersey...
on my way to get socks to play soccer today...
...My legs are dry... I can't afford the skin scrubby
I need but I can afford new cleats and socks
giggling, trying not...

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Faulty compass of drifting swain
Freelancing on arid, desert plain
Passion fires mind of careening train
Burning loins long each satin sheath to stain
Sculpted dunes seductive beauty do feign
Smooth, silky curves do the froward eye entertain
But the silted grains proffer momentary gain
Entrancing mirages with frothy water holes detain
Anon,...

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In the vast deserts life struggles
clinging on by their toe nails
short scrubby plants poke out
a hot haven for scorpions

See the marks in the red sand
of where a snake slithered by
side winding its way over
the baking hot sands of dunes


Here all life is sparse
only the fit...

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Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion...

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My father’s timber array arrived on an 
overloaded Diamond Reo flatbed. 
It dumped oak scraps, leafless dead-woods, 
inspiring last metamorphosis to 
warming fires come winter’s weather. 

Empty, truck leaves then heaves 
into a scrubby alley 
squeezing by barely. 
With its narrow fit made 
it disappearing...

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Mountaintops

Mountaintops –
Barren rocks,
Scrubby brush,
Nothing grows there.

Valley view –
From mountaintop,
Lush, green growth,
Teeming life.

People can’t grow on a mountaintop.
We grow in the valleys of life.
People can’t stay on a mountaintop.
We return to toil and to strife....

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The steel and glass reach to the sky,
the ground covered in man-made stone,
there are always people everywhere,
they scurry ‘bout while on their phones.
They call this place the ‘Big Apple,’
but there’s not one such tree in sight,
and here it can be a really bad idea
to stay...

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While crossing barrens last December night
I saw a ghost in the scrubby growth of trees 
He was standing a strawman and I was in  fright
In the gibbous moon's diffident light.

The world was an obscuring haze clouding my reason
I padded along in muffled sound as...

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while hills taunt us with scrubby tufts of green
the long fingers of the sun
stroke the horizon

a jet splits the sky with a cloudy tail
rattling  the window's glass
and my reflection






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Contest: "Through My Window"   sponsored by Nette Onclaud
By Carrie Richards 1/2114...

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A cold moon comes up
After the hot and billowing day
The black beaks, black eyes
White plumed necks
And fanged claws masked as talons
Still sizzle on the sultry brain
There is no safety here
It is a long trek to edge of pain
The constant circle of the crow
The swift alight
The...

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