Best Scrunch Poems
Night Whispers in my ear, promising sweet
Dreams from another world. My eyes lidded
With wonder of images that aren't complete.
My consciousness blurs, I scrunch up my feet.
Dream realm returns, I enter it timid.
Night whispers in my ear, promising. Sweet
Melodies drift down a rain ridden street.
Colors explode to make the dull gilded.
I wonder of images that aren't complete.
I dream in color that's full of deceit,
My journey confused but benefited
Night. Whispers in my ear, promising sweet
Souls of good fortune. The spell obsolete,
Slips off my mind. The day then comes guilted,
I linger with images that aren't complete.
Startling gold sun begins to reach its peak,
But my mind is in bed, dreaming tinted.
Night whispers in my ear, promising sweet
Wonder of images that now are complete.
Categories:
scrunch, dream, night, sleep,
Form:
Villanelle
The sky bathes the harbor in cyan turquoise
cadet-blue sea foam bubbles the only gorget one has
versus the flamingos and canaries absconding littoral mire
the gashes on my feet, the burn in my gracilis
have returned me yet again to
sanctum:
la vie en rose,
where
lips breathe lunarias into drift bottles
love songs the only tune in our ears,
lilac mica on denim morpho
is the heart in my chest,
and the color of your hair
when the sun decides
its inevitable rest
everything must come to an end,
but the feeling I get
when you scrunch your nose
and shake wisteria dust
off raven plumes
eclipsing spinel
opals
and if describing them is the one thing I can do,
then the paint in my mouth may go stale
fingertips now pruney, lazy, tired
vision indispensable falling pallid
the paper of my visage a
wrinkly,
sallow
pity
but the young wish of a besotted soul
to grow old with your puling orbs
granted
ink sinks the coral lens
your darling hands
have fixed over my head
but my legs are torn,
and my teeth broken
aching
for another laugh
rumbling through
your vibrating back
that my cheek is pressed into,
and I drown
willing
smile
wistful
hush
still.
Categories:
scrunch, age, beauty, bird, first
Form:
Free verse
Some people like keeping up with the Joneses
I do not know any Joneses who could keep up with me
So I have elected to keep up with the gnomes
How absurdly difficult could that task be?
I like wearing leggings, and I have no height
I love gardens, faerie houses,and toadstools you see.
I am pretty confident I can keep up until FFFT!
They begin rapidly disappearing in front of me.
I scrunch up my face, and concentrate ridiculously hard.
What about keeping up with faeries? Fairies begin to giggle.
I have not giggled in a long long time, annoying my own petard.
How about a dragon fly, I think as I begin my wing-trying-out wiggle.
Categories:
scrunch, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Does the all mighty Buddha have it right
on the subject of life as suffering?
I sit here and contemplate, day and night,
scrunch my brain up in remembering
just how I have really ever suffered.
First, as an upper class young man of ease,
sheltered by family and mothered,
minimum efforts brought above average
success in most all that I tried in life.
One problem is I have no attachments,
no long held beliefs or fear of death's scythe,
the prescriptions for Buddha attainment.
Giving up suffering, a conscious act
makes Buddhahood hard for privileged, in fact.
Categories:
scrunch, truth,
Form:
Sonnet
They wait in the streets with a bucket and spade
The gardeners waiting for a horse to oblige
First it is the milkman, with bottles a rattling
Then the coalman with his nutty slag in a bag
The horses of each carrier doesn’t look like he will
Lift his tail scrunch his face and do what they want
He is waiting til he reaches the door of No 10
Where she waits with a few carrots and strokes his mane
Come on lovely horsey fill my bucket today
The rhubarb needs a help if a pie I’m to bake
Your lovely poo is good for the soil
Come on lovely horsey give your tail a good shake
Fill my pail I will mix it with compost,
steam will rise as it seems to come to the boil.
Lovely horsey, there, a few carrots for you.
Thank you once again for doing a poo.
Penned 9 August 2015
Categories:
scrunch, garden, heaven,
Form:
Verse
My shoes are glad to be here
Because they are show offs.
With their crazy psychedelic colors
And their loud look-at-me designs.
My sweatshirt parades in the room
More reluctantly.
Large white letters speak for themselves.
Learn. Lead Succeed. Stephen Covey stuff.
My fluffy pink socks scrunch low to the bottom
of my shoes, wanting to be back home, safe in a dark drawer.
They are as skittish as any piece of clothing I have ever had
Including my shy pink rosebud nightgown.
I roll my eyes as I hear my clothing think for themselves.
Why did you bring those homebodies? Blue jeans queries.
If there is one item of clothing I do not answer to it is Blue Jeans.
He always has a sarcastic edge to his accusing tones.
Categories:
scrunch, perspective,
Form:
Personification
Let’s do the potato chip boogie
Crunch Crunch. Crunch.
Twirling with your noogie.
Scrunch. Scrunch. Scrunch.
Shake your chip bag, goodie.
Hunch. Hunch. Hunch.
Why eat just one, hoodie?
When you can have a bunch?
Wrinkly salt with a fried foogie.
Scrunch. Scrunch Scrunch.
Let’s do the Potato Chip Boogie.
Lunch. Lunch. Lunch.
Categories:
scrunch, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Free verse
Since the Garden of Eden and Cleopatra,
snakes strike great fear in man
I have it—ophidiophobia---
legless lizards equal repulsion
Slithering, sliding as they move
something about friction and scales
like goose bumps on human flesh
more than I want to know
Little known fact learned
three hundred vertebrae, one reptile
they can scrunch up like an accordion
Slinky has nothing on the snake
Zoology teacher forced me to touch
disgusting...scaly info to psyche
rubbery, stretchy outside insides
that red-eyed yellow python plagued my sleep
Here’s the point—abnormal fear or not
God created the reptile
rattlesnake eats rats, field mice
homes under rocks in deserts, mountains
concealed, fearing human contact
Travel to Georgia or Oklahoma…
Rattlesnake Roundups held
oh yes, let’s kill some rattlers
buy a permit, slaughter as many…
Find their hiding, jerk them up
drop them in a sack writhing with twelve more
rattler chasers claim fun to kill
find the longest, fattest
Kill by decapitation
drop in the freezer alive
look later…freeze dried snake
eat a snake steak…tastes like chicken
Why search them out
leave them alone
No rattlesnake boots, head bands...
Yes, stand up for the reptiles!
Optional © 2 years ago, Carol Davis
Categories:
scrunch, animal, fear,
Form:
Free verse
She throws her head back
And let's out from her small mouth
A huge, loud, boisterous, horrific,
But beautiful, rip-roaring, ear-splitting sneeze.
I think to myself
Where can such a petite, quiet, demure, classy lady
Get the energy to snort like a jet breaking the sound barrier?
Where does all her energy come from?
Yet doing the dishes exhausts her????
Once her sneeze drowned out a trash truck going by.
When I see her cherubic face scrunch and her nose redden
Like Rudolph’s of Santa fame, I know it’s coming.
Then the deafening sound
Followed by spray that covers the room like mist
(that was before the Corona virus showed its ugly face)
She looks at me defiantly,
“Did ‘ja like that one?” she jokes.
“That was magnificent, Gorgeous,” I say,
“But first, let me wipe the blood from my ears.”
Don't get me wrong, she is the world to me.
My personal angel from heaven.
When I asked God,”When can I have a mate, Lord?”
He left and in a flash returned,
"There she is.”
What I saw was a magnificent sight.
She stood in all her glory, in her birthday suit, eyes wide open,
I said, "You are indeed a benevolent God."
He said, “She’s yours. Now go way and don’t bother me.”
And disappeared.
I wanted her and I got her, she’s my cutie pie
and I love her with all the love that's in me
She’s my soul mate beyond eternity, beyond whatever comes next,
Including her horrific, ear busting sneezes.
Categories:
scrunch, humorous, love,
Form:
Free verse
Autumn, It peeps over summers shoulders
Like a baby over its mothers when getting bolder
Then tip toes into your day when your tired
Unannounced not always desired
First a mild frost shows its might
To scrunch the leaves over night
Ideal for walking in when they fall
Crunchy underfoot, kids love to kick them all
The trees now have their colourful jackets on
Leaves Of yellows golds and reds upon
Berries of every hue the birds should know
Eat them too soon and hungry they will go
Autumn means the Canadian Geese come to stay
They know exactly where they want to spend their day
They squawk in the v formation in which they fly
Catches the eys of every passer bye
Autumn is the prelude to the full blown concerto of winter
Whose notes linger on the cold cold air
Sounds of laughter fill the air when families meet to skate
On the iced over ponds that the ducks now hate
Squirrels hoard the nuts to keep themselves alive
as they nestle in the hollow tree, trying hard to survive
Robins tweet their song so the gardener will hear,
To turn over some earth for the worms to appear
Smoking chimneys add to the scene
Can you imagine the warmth of the glow within
People happily sit around the fire so bright
Wrapped up warm, drink in hand settled for the night
Penned 02/01/2015
Categories:
scrunch, autumn,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh mighty tree whose leaves look on fire
Vibrant orange, red colours spiralling
like feathers, raising ones hopes and desire
gently with aplomb on the trail falling.
Scrunch is the sound children make as they run
tossing the leaves and laughing together
soon to be Christmas with family fun
memories etched in their smile forever
too soon the tree is bare no glow to see,
no mantle to keep the birds safe and warm
winter has cast her white gown on the tree
freezing the roots to keep it safe from harm
storing the vision of that autumn scene
refreshing thoughts when winters frost is keen
penned october 9. 2018
I like greens and mauves
ring size.....7.
Categories:
scrunch, autumn,
Form:
Sonnet
Jack once had a romantic hunch,
Impressed Jess with a flower bunch,
Invited her to Sunday lunch,
They had grilled steak and nuts to munch,
Tried to kiss her, she packed a punch,
Now he walks about with a scrunch.
06.07.2021
For Line Gauthier's "Bite Size Poem no. 5" contest
Categories:
scrunch, crazy, fun,
Form:
Monorhyme
A day in June.
Tuesday.
Week’s worst day!
Twenty to five.
A wintry sun,
Low in the sky,
Casts long shadows,
Emits no warmth.
I’m in a dorp
With tired shops,
Bank and church,
GPO and a Court.
Tucked together
Along a street,
With bumpy tar
And dusty holes.
Now and then
A small bakkie
Clatters past
Carrying ‘boys’.
A thin veil
Of dust rises
And wafts
To where I sit.
On a bench,
On the stoep,
Of the old
‘Royal’ Hotel.
As I sit I see
No hustle or bustle;
Just a person or two
Moving listlessly by.
Across the road,
An Algemene Handelaar
Stocks and sells
Assorted goods.
On its stoep
Amongst other things,
An ancient plough
And three-legged pots.
An adult ‘boy’
Shuffles out,
Begins to take
The things inside.
Exiting the Bottle Store
Ou Cronje sways out
Sipping a half-jack
In a paper packet.
Church clock
Marks the ‘quarter to’
With a dull
Ding, … dong, …ding,
Enough already!
No waiting till five.
At other stores
Doors begin to close.
Doef-doef-doef !
A tractor bobs past
Pulling a trailer
Loaded with bags.
From Rita’s Fashions
The assistant emerges,
Pulls on knitted gloves,
And heads for home.
Three youngsters
From rugby practise
Sidle past with the
Scrunch of studded boots.
From the Kafee
Two clients emerge;
Half a loaf each
And bottles of Fanta.
Three farmers,
Wearing shorts,
Enter the bar
For brandy and coke.
A car trundles by.
Again there’s dust,
From unfixed holes
That pepper the tar.
Quiet returns.
Sun is lower.
Shadows longer.
In Enniedorp.
Now wisps of smoke,
From chimney tops,
Signal day’s end
And a wintry night.
Categories:
scrunch, nostalgia, places,
Form:
Blank verse
It began with a replicator
probably in the sea
an insignificant little cray-tor
much tinier than a bee
Didn't have mouth or teeth
or a fancy Latin name
not even a will to out-compete
others exactly the same
But nought is really perfect
mistakes can easily arrive
so, sadly the odd defect
meant some did not survive
Yet some had good errors
and these did well and thrived
passed their wee advantage
to their offspring born alive
And so it went on and then
aeons drifted past
on and on without end
until we came here at last
And while we contemplated
man's place in this celestial scheme
We discovered it ain't that complicated
We're just variations on a theme
So when you look towards the sky
scratch your had or scrunch yer nose
Imagine that if you were to die
all you'd do is decompose
Categories:
scrunch, science,
Form:
would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?
since this brother in law rarely emails,
ye may scrunch countenance puzzled,
or on verge of emitting flatulence,
that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack),
would possibly find ja propelled,
thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly
sepulchral tintinnabulation
(where for greater effect
yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats
in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back
to the House of the rising sun),
BUT...gnome hatter,
no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme,
why aye dash communique
minus virtual trumpeting blare
(sorry, but in the interest
of belated birthday cheer,
without computer generated imagery)
rendered hoop fully readable,
sans black and white Scottish matted pixels
constituting beloved appellation
unsure how to address ye perfectly clear
while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ,
how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences
comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying
to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable
(of course) with flair
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS
TO SCREAM so ye kin hear
soap hull ease excuse this incurable
Harris scribe with thinning heir
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me
burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair
still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer
replaced instead by vinyl city
all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time)
open farmland did dis app pear
so...a gam bulling gambit
to avoid moseying down Level Road...
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness
with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead,
and mainly wish ye another birth year!
adieu...from math tha hue
Categories:
scrunch, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Lyric