Best Skulk Poems
Our Midnight The Unseen Within
( Collaboration )
Silent unto our sense, yet musical
With eternal harmony, they move
About our darkened vision, the beautiful ones,
Angels of destiny.
Pale with the dawn, sun-golden with the noontide,
They mingle with our moments;
There is no sadness that they do not share,
No night they are not near.
Even as flowers that scent the roving winds
With fragrant incantations, - flowers unseen,
That loose the largess of their beauteous dreams,
Even so are they.
Bequeathing endlessly for our delight
The gifts we spurn, the secret revelations
Would make us in our needless misery
True kindred of the Soul,-
A holy kiss to marry us with light,
These sheens where cherubins loose their waxxen wings;
Shear the shadows where fear is oft found,
And quell doubt like a startled imposter
A righteous device to lead us home.....
A wanton wind to soothe the wayward ails;
A flame-cold but bright to illume every wan,
We sleep unbeguiled, where angels tread
What secret shadows skulk to maim?
Strip our bones to sudden death?
Move they winnowed and tarried -----
Helpless to the winged, swift eye
A keepsake (say many) beat of feather;
Hope gives us peace in those hallowed hills,
Where the angels sing like larks and cry a tear of love:
(Our midnight)
Robert J. Lindley and Keith O.J. Hunt,
2-21-2016
Note:
First 16 verses written by Robert Lindley
Remaining 16 verses 16 written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Categories:
skulk, angel, appreciation, beautiful, blessing,
Form:
Classicism
If you wait until the sun goes down,
a thousand suns will rise.
Artificial, bright, igniting
tangled clouds in smoggy skies,
and flooding dingy streets
with fluorescent streams of light
that carry waves of people,
cresting, crashing, clashing
across mismatched sidewalks.
They speak in foreign tongues
that lick like wild flames
and burn with glowing strangeness
as cockroaches skulk and scurry
beneath makeshift stands
where pairs of busy hands
prepare the strangest foods,
from skewered squid and snakes
to crepes and pineapple cakes,
cubes of deep-fried tofu
and the freshest dragon fruit.
Watch them badger, hear them barter
over onyx rings and jade bangles
beside rose quartz beads that dangle
from scratched display cases.
The market throbs with energy,
a living entity that swallows me.
And when I think I've lost myself,
I focus on that giddy sound,
the universal language
that transcends all others.
They laugh, and I smile.
*Based on a night market I visited in Taiwan last year
Categories:
skulk, culture,
Form:
Free verse
Silent unto our sense, yet musical
With eternal harmony, they move
About our darkened vision, the beautiful ones,
Angels of destiny.
Pale with the dawn, sun-golden with the noontide,
They mingle with our moments;
There is no sadness that they do not share,
No night they are not near.
Even as flowers that scent the roving winds
With fragrant incantations, - flowers unseen,
That loose the largess of their beauteous dreams,
Even so are they.
Bequeathing endlessly for our delight
The gifts we spurn, the secret revelations
Would make us in our needless misery
True kindred of the Soul,-
A holy kiss to marry us with light,
These sheens where cherubins loose their waxxen wings;
Shear the shadows where fear is oft found,
And quell doubt like a startled imposter
A righteous device to lead us home.....
A wanton wind to soothe the wayward ails;
A flame-cold but bright to illume every wan,
We sleep unbeguiled, where angels tread
What secret shadows skulk to maim?
Strip our bones to sudden death?
Move they winnowed and tarried -----
Helpless to the winged, swift eye
A keepsake (say many) beat of feather;
Hope gives us peace in those hallowed hills,
Where the angels sing like larks and cry a tear of love:
(Our midnight)
First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley
Last 16 by Keith O.J. Hunt
Categories:
skulk, angel, hope, love, senses,
Form:
Classicism
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 this god-forsaken land
I could see a gloomy night trying to rear its ugly head
Where could in this barren pitiful hot, hot place dare I sleep
All here was hard rocks and sand, not a damn good place to bed
I thought this damnable fierce land wants this dear life to keep
As my worn-out soul begged for water and damn lot of rest
So under a scrubby bush I sat down to my diary write
Was this a hazardous darken journey, a god given test
Then these eyes saw above, bright stars painting the night.
With my nightly prayers said, I laid down to dream
And this love-struck heart recalled her very beautiful face
And how we together were such a great and fine winning team
Then massive sadness flew on into my brief joy replace
Dawn's breath was blown and my romantic heart finally woke
This reborn spirit decided to this abject darkness fight
Mused I, this soul-searching journey is indeed no damn joke
Surely it was not my responsibility to set things right!
Had she not to another man sworn her undying love
Promised him to be his new and true beautiful queen
Even next, promised to forever love to our God above
And swore to forward race over to his daring dark scene.
My tired and lost heart soul next this wise advice outward screams.
Son, you deserve better than light from her black treacherous beams.
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme
July 17th, 1973
Note-
I was only 19 years old when I composed this one. I thought about doing a major editing job but decided not to. Just let it stand as is, a poem written by a 19 year old kid. God bless..
Categories:
skulk, betrayal, depression, heartbroken, hurt,
Form:
Rhyme
It began when I was a young girl, oh I did not scavenge,
in the mud or float in the river but I was known to collect;
rocks and shells by the shores of lakes and rivers, and ocean,
but, one of my favorite things to do was to go on a scavenge,
hunt in the woods, I was like any good Mudlark seeking a treasure;
I called this an adventure. "Where are you going?" mother asked,
"on an adventure !" Was my reply . . .
Now, I am grown but I am still gathering things, I love to skulk,
and prowl second hand book stores and all the junk stores;
and I am not opposed to getting on my hands and knees to explore,
a hidden tattered box, and finding a treasure within making my day;
and once I bring these things home- like an old book, vintage jewelry,
or dish of some sort that becomes my treasured possession . . .
My motto is "just because something is old it still has value"
________________________
April 5, 2020
Poetry/Narrative/Scavenging for Treasure
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1241-647-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Categories:
skulk, nostalgia,
Form:
Narrative
At long last - blissful retirement to do as I please!
Take a cruise, go fishing, live a life of ease!
If I opt to snooze-in, I'll continue to snore,
A slave to that infernal alarm clock never more!
Ah, but hold on, what is that I hear?
My spouse says, "Come here, I need you my dear.
The lawn needs mowing, the fence to mend,
Shelves to build and the garden to tend!"
Word that I'm happily loafing has got around.
Pleas to volunteer for community projects abound.
"Will you serve on this committee for this and that?"
'Tis useless to hide 'cause they know where I'm at!
I try to avoid all phone calls asking for me.
'Tis usually someone with another plaintive plea!
I must even skulk about for my afternoon nap,
That I highly prize with dear old Simba on my lap!
Although I have tried with all my might,
I cannot escape from my hapless plight!
Lots of folks say that retirement is a bore;
Seems to me there's more to do than ever before!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
skulk, funnyretirement,
Form:
Rhyme
My views are trenchant and modest.
My thoughts as clear as day.
I marvel at the things I know
While ignoring much what others say.
You must now follow my direction
And blindly accept all I have in store
Where your most cherished held beliefs
Will not bother you no more.
You will be free to act as I command
As I make bold your privilege and your past.
And with my loving care and maintenance
You may yet survive what's come to pass.
So stand and meekly beg for mercy
But ignorance proves your heinous acts...
Knowing any attempt to defend yourself
Is a clear prostration of the facts.
When I come to take your neighbor...
Be not concerned if one or two.
But rest assured... the time will come
When I gleefully come for you.
Please skulk in worry and trepidation
As who knows what the next day brings?
Since those who would deny me power
Are thankfully consumed by other things.
You will therefor crumble before my zeal
And it matters not that some will die.
As I lay a pox upon the great unwashed
Who dare not to think as I.
Be not tasked with want and worry
At the evil I have wrought.
Just know my world will be a better place
Once I control your thoughts.
The End
Categories:
skulk, satire, vanity,
Form:
Rhyme
Racism 1952
A man had been working on a flat garage roof
jumped into the yard, not a long jump but
landed badly and hurt his ankle.
He picked up a plank and used it to get out
and to the bus stop.
The bus driver wouldn`t let him on because
of the plank, and he lost his balance and fell,
People stepped over him, this black drunk.
The pavement was cobble stoned, so he walked
to the hospital using the road, where he was hit
by a car, an ambulance arrived, the man had hurt
his ankle, but it was not broken, a plaster cast,
they gave him a crutch so he could get home.
The driver of the car which hit him,
picked up the plank it was just the size needed
repairing his house.
We have come to a long way racism is no longer
so ugly but skulk in corners and the judicial system.
Categories:
skulk, abuse, africa, age,
Form:
Blank verse
He stole my life's love and betrothed
to have and claim as his own mate,
and now I plot, my dark soul clothed
with blackened rage and clouded fate.
The flames that burn within me lead
toward an every fiery gate.
Dark, evil thoughts have cast their seed
on embers, my soul burns with hate.
My feral eyes now cast their gaze
upon this foe, who nears his gate.
I skulk amid a trellised maze,
anxious to make him lie prostrate.
Each footfall now, he nears my lair
and swift my blade strikes true its mark.
He gasps and stumbles falling, where
his life ebbs, in the breathless dark.
Too curious to run or hide
I stand and watch his life abate.
'Twas then that guilt spoke in my ear,
"You have become a demon's mate."
A dank, cold cell is where I dwell,
wrapped in a prisoner's striped cape.
I'm filled with dread, I dream of hell.
My life knows there is no escape.
The hangman's gallows have been built.
Soon, one short walk up steps I'll take,
to feel the rope's rough knotted quilt,
and drop to death with one quick shake.
To Poe
Categories:
skulk, dark, death, fear, prison,
Form:
Quatrain
I sank into the depths of marbled
Frustration.
Canonized in furrowed gasps,
I claimed my own footsteps were thieves.
We all skulk slunk-shouldered to the same sorrowful shore.
Though it ain’t all that bad.
Look through the lightened leaves
The maple glow will warm your
Foiled, flagrant, tired eyes.
If you are not your own era,
Bring your illusions to the foreground and
Castrate your deadened pride.
Categories:
skulk, humor, life,
Form:
Free verse
Bright flickering neon lights
seduce the young with their glow.
And flash sexual delights,
hinting at more yet to show.
Youth views what is in plain sight;
through the optics of a teen.
And searches the bars at night;
for a world they've never seen.
The young are easily fooled
by all the hype and glitter.
But, the naive soon get schooled;
tossed out like back street litter.
Exposed to degrees of fright,
living shadows skulk and dart.
And late at night, out of sight,
their bravado falls apart.
Categories:
skulk, city, feelings, hurt, imagery,
Form:
Quatrain
Bevy of swans in a sea-fowl cloud,
starling mumuration,whispering aloud.
Wray of quail,where teal spring,
tiding of magpie,as larks nesting, cling.
Nightingale watch a hover of crows,
herd of wrens,hosting sparrows.
Flight of doves,lapwing deceit,
charm of finches,swallows sweet.
Kindle of kittens,knot of toads,
a yoke of oxen shed their load.
Den of snakes,skulk with fox,
shires stabled and boxed.
Business of ferrets,labour with moles,
span of mules in a string of foals.
Harrass of horse,husk of hares,
rake of colts with a stud of mares.
Drove of cattle,with a tribe of goats,
downs of sheep,pack of stoats.
Spider cluster in a thatch,
brood of game,hatched,matched
and despatched.
Categories:
skulk, animal, bird, fish, insect,
Form:
List
Well met sir, in this silent wood
Where I seek verse and you seek blood,
I knew you were not far from here
Your gun spoke loud, its message clear.
I judged your day was a success
I found a pheasant in distress,
The shot you fired had pierced its eye
Surprising that it did not die.
Hung there are six I see are dead
Their lovely plumage sodden red,
They fell like hail from up on high
Wide airs highway free where they fly.
When you arrived here on the lane
I knew your interests dealt in pain,
You think your gun’s a lovely thing,
Though nought but death for birds it brings.
Of course it’s only birds you kill
Just little murders give you thrill,
Here for your quarry skulk and hide
Out in this lovely countryside.
These creatures that you hurt and maim
Their yours,you bred them for the game,
You put them in the wood and field
The power of death o’er them to wield.
You’re not alone in this delight
Your dogs they wag and rush and bite,
One fetched a bird with gaping wound,
Your equal joy, though he’s a hound.
So good day sir, your repast done
Time once again to take your gun,
Enjoy the horror game you play
I’ll write my poems another day.
Categories:
skulk, abuse, bird, dog, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Dark Spirit , You Are Cursed
O', dark spirit of the late night
Which scare are you now bringing
Eyes gouged out to prevent sight
Or tongues cut to stop singing!
O', evil one how dare you creep
Claws scratching along the walls
Evil curses in a wailful weep
predictions of pain filled falls!
O', dark one you will now find
Curse in rage yelled back at you
The resistance in this old mind
A truth cast to give up your due!
Betrayer of light you will fail
Your screams shall not be heard
Skulk back into your evil Hell
Yield you must to Light's word!
Speakers of evil accursed tales
Givers of dark night's frights
Tricksters living in evil shells
Of no use now your false sights!
Master of light protecting me
Oaths given that always stand
Given fruits of his Son's tree
Eternal gifts in promised land!
Robert J. Lindley , 08-29- 2014
Categories:
skulk, conflict, dark, dream, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
I stand, waiting, out of the dappled sun light.
Listening to the hollow timpani that is my
stomach, the adrenalin coursing
through my chest, telling me 'its time'
My neuronal switch 'clicks'. I am no longer
inert, I am hunter. I have smelled the air
and read its menu. I have stretched life
back into my stagnant limbs
The smell is strong, close. A young doe
stands on the edges of her grazing family.
Young, healthy, unseasoned. When I pounce she
will Freeze. Making the kill easy. She will be easy
I stifle a memory. I have lost so many on the hunt.
Sometimes, I get too close and they scream, causing
agitated stares, that force me back. Back to my
hunger.
Twenty tries since my last kill. Twenty times I have salivated at
the thought of my hunger being satisfied. My preening delayed ,
like a peacock whose feathers no longer meet the expectation of
a mating ritual.
Slowly. Slower than slowly. Time no longer exists for me,
or for my kill. I skulk, each foot testing its ground before
being planted down. Hips sway low from side to side,
like an exotic dancer. Both of us earning our living.
My heart rips through my own blood, ejaculating it into a
bursting surge. Now is the moment. There will be no other
moment. I lunge, connecting with flesh. Soft flesh. Power pulls my victim
to the ground. I smell the sweet sweet smell of metallic ooze, dripping slowly,
like molasses from a wooden spoon. I hold my kill, turn and drag her away
Her family still graze, unaware of their loss. Unconscious of
my facile victory. Time soon enough to savour their haunted calls
And what of my kill? Picked up like so much road kill. Just another unsolved
homicide to add to my growing file. And what of me? I am once more content
to wait for another sound to grow deep within my soul. For I am Tiger, Hunter.
I am God!
Categories:
skulk, murder,
Form:
Free verse