Best Skip Over Poems
The Little Dog ( Scotty )
I’m only a small female
Little legs you see
The other two are huge
Males big pawed and hairy
Great tongues lolling
But they protect me
They are nice to me
I’m only small
The human is a giant !
If I look straight ahead
I can only see the shins
And while the other two are off
Galloping and romping
I am trotting behind
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I think the human is male
He must be
As I feel so drawn to it
And its kind hands
And kind eyes
He must be male
I am female
I know these things
I love to go out walking
The human he takes us all
All three !
I have to skip over boulders
Which to them are just pebbles
And sometimes all of them
Have to wait for me patiently
Little legs with little paws you see
I love them all
Especially the human
And especially when he feeds me
Even more when he tickles my tummy
Do you know he built a little house for me
Just for me
I curl up on pillows at night
Nice warm and cozy
So because I love him
And even though I am rather small
I growl and bark
When he needs protecting
And I can see him smiling
So I know I am being a good girl
The human has a “ H U G E ” kennel
So big a dog could get lost in
And when he returns from being gone
He always lets us in
But never up those little floors
Which go to the place he uses for sleeping
Never mind
I am content
Like the other two
To curl on the soft fluffy bit of the floor
And wait dozing
Occasionally sniffing about
The place food is kept in
Till the time comes
For us all to go out walking
And then I can barely contain myself
In jumps and circles
While the other two are whimpering and whining
Time for them to go off running, snuffling and playing
While behind I follow
Steadily trotting
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I was born with dyslexia,
And also A.D.D.
I’m not sure that you understand
What this demands of me.
You have formed your low opinion,
And judged me in your way.
Because I do not read your work,
You’ve nothing good to say.
The books I read are all on tape,
My bible’s on CD.
I rarely read the written word,
It’s difficult for me.
The words get jumbled in my mind,
So I must read again.
Sometimes I’ll read things many times,
Before I take it in.
You think I’m some pretentious jerk,
Who gets but doesn’t give.
You don’t see the adversity
With which I have to live.
I failed to graduate from school,
With all my high school chums.
My teachers never understood,
They just thought I was dumb.
I didn’t understand the books,
Or homework they assigned.
So long before you ever judged,
My nature was defined.
This is the monkey on my back,
The cross I have to bear,
You think you have me figured out?
That’s just the devil’s snare!
You do not know the path I walk,
You don’t know ME at all!
Did God not warn that judgment’s price
Would cause your soul to fall?
Or do you think that you can sin
Because your heart believes?
That once you’re saved, you’re always saved,
For that belief deceives.
The woman that Lord Jesus found,
At adultery’s door,
Was told, as He forgave her sins,
To go and sin NO MORE.
He didn’t say, Now that you’re saved,
Salvation is assured.
For if you know what NOT to do,
You disregard His word!
If you think I’m the evil one,
Because I do not read,
Then you have been corrupted by
The devil’s prideful seed.
Your time is nearly up my friend,
The sickle will soon fall.
And it will not skip over those
Who THINK their sins are small.
I am a man afflicted by
A disability.
To think of me as something else,
Is YOUR iniquity.
gotta hurry, little time for chatter
not on-deck, always the current batter
pendulum swinging at a hastened pace
as if existence were a non-stop race
skip over letters go straight for the words
type of education most find absurd
continue to grind no matter how stressed
pushing onward, no need to stop and rest
haunted by thoughts, being chased by the past
knowing that nothing here ever long lasts
forever shifting gears without a clutch
as if evolution were in a rush
armed with statistics most find mind-numbing
crashing head-on into what's forthcoming
Lord,
We do give thee thanks for the abundance
That is ours in glorious nudity
Even though some of it is saline
And some with silicon
Bless each and every one
~~~
Tell your mind what your body
already knows
~~
Understand this,
They wanna be you, they wanna be just like you
Because right now, you are the sexiest
Woman on God’s green Earth
Amen
?
NOTE: This piece is NOT about ***********, it is a satire, a humorous jab at
the Industry
Please enjoy with this in mind or skip over it completely Thank you
Streak past cheetah
Fly over eagle
Lower than mole
Skip over squirrel
Jump higher than grasshopper
Swim deeper than dolphin
Be what you imagine!
6 degrees but it feels like minus eight
Dressed like children swaddled to meet the bus
Walking beside a quiet soothing sea
Face is warmed by the sun that's coming up
Seagulls pick and skip over lapping waves
Sea-glass collectors comb the empty beach
Blinded by the sun laid on the water
Too cold to wave they just nod each to each.
A tug boat with a garbage scow in tow
Creeps along where the ocean meets the sky
An unleashed dog runs with new found freedom
Chasing birds until they arise and fly.
In my own mind I lift off with the birds
Thoughts of trivial trouble left behind
Soaring high above the boundless ocean
Free to explore the boundaries of my mind.
After Dad's Sunday softball games,
all the kids would run the bases.
Then we'd skip over to the River Inn Tavern.
Players would gather in small sweaty clumps.
Guzzling life
Playing pool
Devouring cold cuts.
Rehashing the scent of the game
The dirt on their uniforms,
was pure, blue-collared art.
I collected bottle caps in those days.
Had a secret agreement with "Chops."
The team coach and tavern owner.
Every time the cash register rang.
The richer he and I became.
Big George was the first baseman.
Power hitter and power drinker.
He was by far the biggest contributor to my collection.
My favorite bottle cap was a Genesse Cream Ale.
It was a pretty pale green.
It reminded me of a quiet mountain lake.
Or the eyes of the little blonde just down the lane.
Many bottle caps later we would leave the River Inn Tavern.
Dad's heart brimming with dirt and diamond.
My pockets jingling with tiny mountain lakes.
Both of us stinking of beer and bargain cigarettes.
That was a million Sundays ago,
Chops, Big George, and my bottle cap collection have left the batter's box.
My dear father is on deck.
Don't know what ever became of the little blonde down the lane.
I know....there are places I speak and areas I listen and I found the reasons behind the
colors
of Sarah's hair.
I could fly, I used to run so fast down staircases that were carefully carpeted with the
shades of blue my mother found....
....beautiful....
that my toes would lift and my arms would capture the breath of words that would never
speak themselves, the magical exhalations of things one should never say....
I'm terribly careful, darling, to never skip over the numbers, to never discuss why......
I know......the end result of speaking when my mouth is never noticed, I am well aware of
how light pink lip gloss accentuates words and I feel you when my promises tumble, head
over feet, head over feet....
down....
carpeted stairs.
Who was he?
The questions appear to me in dreams and the answers write themselves across walls I
hadn't read since I was eighteen but I have the photographs, you know....
I have full color pictures that document the changing of eyes and the fading of youth, I
keep them in boxes and in files I should have never cropped, despite my knowledge behind
the years....
I have tumbled through....
my hair never tickled my heels in ways that girls who turn themselves upside down do, I am
backwards....
you see, I have broken the hands of digital clocks and watched them through mirrors as
time deceives those who never figure out reflections......
but I told them, I taught him how to read the letters that never appeared
on the closet wall in the room that was above
twelve
carpeted
stairs.
Social uselessness is a virtue of its own,
Those we cast aside, glance at and then away from quickly,
Lest they notice, and smell our guilt,
Are free to live immodestly,
There being no need for posturing
When one's invisible.
Trees that grow lumpen or misshapen
Are left to live long and go unfelled,
Never to be transformed into pencils and park benches.
They carry on, in love with the sun,
Spreading their arms to embrace the sky
Season upon season;
The children skip over their roots
And lovers loll beneath their boughs,
Their shade relieves the weary,
Their age comforts the old.
No carpenter's ambition
Will ever reach their wondrous hearts,
Then, perforce, transform them.
When they kick you, unwanted
Out of the hospital psych ward,
Your illness not important because you've done
Nothing to make the newspapers,
You can wander like a prophet, complete in yourself
Living your truths without needing an apologist.
So it is with those we look away from,
The odd shapes among us who don't fit our spaces.
There's more to be seen by looking between things
Than can be found by looking straight at them;
The unshaped space around us speaks with an incessant tongue
Interpretable only by the spirit.
So if you really want to slip the blindfold for a change
To see the ones hovering around the fringes,
Start by studying their shadows;
If they should deign to speak,
Listen with your eyes,
If you want to feel them,
Reach deep inside yourself and rub the sore spots
You spend the day denying.
Reflection sustains reality
Like dewdrops on a leaf.
Try to understand this like a lesson and you'll fail,
But accept it without judgement;
It will come to you.
No man finds more truth than he who looks for nothing;
This is writ upon the bark of twisted trees.
Read it, then know what wisdom is.
if these walls could talk would I feel embarrassment from the stories they could tell?
within me if these windows could truly see would they close their blinds for every time I was given a farewell?
if these floors could hold would I spend more time picking up tears from the corners where I hid?
I started to glance over every object in my room and begin to question "why" in the reasons we live.
every move made is priceless , there is no button to replay . I could never ask someone to put their feelings on pause.
observing how stones can skip over the face of a lake as nature whispers-
without reason ,how can you ever understand cause?
how can you understand what goes hand-in-hand if you never tried to hold on to something or someone you love?
nature said - give a man everything he needs and then wants and its still not enough.
Embracing Poetry
Freedom on the lam, where the poet sings
To hearts that are imprisoned against their will,
Inspires the bereaved mind to spring to life
And uplifts hearts to bloom and burst liberated
When the pain of incarceration ceases.
“Gloria excelsis” in the world.
Frolic away, poet, and tell the world,
Encouraging bosoms to join in song,
Birthing new beginnings where weed growth ceases;
And let fresh hope generate unfalt'ring wills
Smothered with deeds abounding with liberties;
Death is certain, but poetry is life.
Martyrs forced into cages forfeit their lives
While conquerors plant flags around the world,
Stealing wealth, and curtailing liberties,
And muzzling the lips of those who would sing
Of freedom’s great joy without broken will,
With gladness boasting liberty’s song ceaselessly.
Were I to stretch the cage’s bars ‘til strength ceased
And purge authority aspersing my life
And mock their failure to immure my will,
As I sail poetic rhymes in the world
With hearts of fellow poets yearning to sing
Vociferously with new liberties.
But destiny’s path squashes liberty,
And lungs collapse when inflation ceases.
If evil is not rebuffed, who will sing the babe
To sleep with dreams of a future life obtained
Through sacrifices for Erato’s world,
Inheriting bold character and will?
Still, they rehearse scripts to truncate my will
With mulct and abrogate my liberty,
But not you, dear poet. Nix not of this world,
Whose toes skip over bloomed fields while mine cease
To dance in delight to the verse of life—
Ill speak they your name, forbidding me to sing.
Ere my will dims, indulge me with a song
Describing life’s passion for liberty;
Let my heartbeat cease in joy from the world.
***
Notes:
Gloria excelsis (Latin): Glory in the highest.
Erato: muse (Greek mythology) of lyric and poetry.
Urania: muse (Greek mythology) of music, song, and dance.
Drifting like snowflakes, petals sift through air. White bubbles float down,
skip over stark, black tarmac surface, blown by breezes into piles, form
snowdrifts against sidewalks; pear trees green up, shed white coats of spring.
Those Midnight Infatuations
1.
You're the water
on the phone Sun
that I crave.
To become the
dopamine blocker
in my brain.
2.
I am the minuscule rolled balls
of lent you pull at
on clothing
swiftly thrown away
making nerves
skip over your skin
holding hand in hand.
3.
My feet knotted with yours
but as the moon hits the glass
of week old water
on the oak nightstand
it shows you are just
another shadow I have
glued to my side.
4.
The tip of your
dry cracked finger
traces the outline
of the old water ring stain.
From whisky glasses
next to the bed.
Quick to turn back around
as he comes back in the room.
5.
Hot water consumes you
as liquid swirling
around your shriveled feet
turns crimson and all they can say
when arriving is
they did all they could
but I guess you didn't love
me enough to stay.
6.
You became a permeant
nettle deep in my
limbic system
and the only way
to remove you
would to get rid of
part of me
forceps tick
the folds of my brain
severing most ties
to the rest of my body
but you would like that
wouldn't you?
7.
The distortion lens
you blinded me with
is the reflections
I see in coffee
only to get muckier
as you pushed
me away until the very end.
8.
The crevasses of your skin
crinkled like dew-fallen paper
left outside for too long
when the folds in
your lips cracked
when you smiled
shame the only thing
to see that is dirt.
Almost Ready to Go
How does one pack up and move to an area of destruction?
How does one take all of their mustard seeds and place them on the window sill?
I am about to take the biggest leap of faith I have ever taken in my life
And I say “I am ready to take the plunge with you, my Lord!”
Where ever you lead me, even if in the middle of a cyclone
I will go! Send me! Don’t skip over me and use someone else!
I have been in training for this moment my entire life!
No fanciness
No lingerie
Just a single suitcase, a Bible, and a box of protein bars
We will walk right into the middle of hell together side by side
Just like we used to in the olden days
I am ready to go where ever you lead me, Lord
Let me tidy up my house a bit first!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
8-6-14
always last at the dinner table gave from zero
made the best giving it my all with dignity and respect never asking more then i could ever get realizing you get back what you give make something out of nothing humbling oneself having gods given sense to know do UN to others as you would like done UN to you keeping in mind you will always find there are no two a like you and i never depend on someone else but you yourself for at the end of the day is you who you have to answer to wiser makes for knowledge and understanding i look above whats right or wrong to make me strong and try not to make the same mistakes for what ever it takes to stay on the right away you never know who is emulating you wannabes that sting like a bee with jealousy its transparent to me for is crystal clear as the air we breath at times gets polluted making it hard to breath and see the bigger picture realizing the painting was always on the wall no two ways about it came up from the ground growing knowing slowly moving from place to place leaving footprints along the way not for one to follow but to skip over opening the gate to there on fate threw the window pressing enter but beware not to take the same steps for the way has been set for you pass go and collect reach and dont forget to teach lead by example not by wrong choices we are the first and last in a blood line of hope when there is none lifting yourself up when down and no one is around we tend to dust ourselves and keep it moving standing still is not except able we run we dont walk we fight we dont quit we stand we dont sit were strong not weak we speck what no one else has the balls to hit throw and catch there is no paper in it just self satisfaction and a clear cont-ions to help sleep at night knowing were playing with hard situations trying to make a better way for those behind coming up strong and steady for they will win the race at there own pace we are leaders they are the finishers no time for followers to fall behind dragging there dirty laundry lead by fiction make away straight on to the highway braking the cycle making new and in prove legacy nothing wrong with being last for you will become fast the harder you fall the taller you will stand fists ready to strike everyone loves a come back