Best Smallish Poems
SUMMER’S END *
Down her meadow’s sweetness
By name of Summer’s End
This smallish thatch work cottage
With it’s proper artful sign
Hung at eaves with slightest tilt
By portal in decline
Should some young and searching pair
Choose certain bend of woods
And come upon the scene by chance
Imagine now their fond surprise
That first adoring glance
She’s not so much sad longing
As a fixed point of warmth
Her leaves but yellowed barely
Far distant hills all purplish glaze
It’s Summer’s End for keeping
Till a good life’s end of days
Dave Austin
* Correction - thatch work cottage. Thanks to Keith Logan for the correction
Categories:
smallish, summer,
Form:
Free verse
The gardener's hand was feeble,
the poet's hand was staid
Yesterday's dreams were buried
with seeds, last year were laid
Yet flowers grew in rainstorms
though coupled with the weeds
Butterflies came to visit
The gardener's heart was eased
A smallish yellow butterfly
on heal of monarch great
Across the wild garden flew
and not a moment late
For though her wings were
little, and she was very small
Somehow, she found momentum
to fly up the garden wall
The gardener watched in wonder
in the scene that she was gifted
Each nuance of this garden free
Her poet's heart uplifted
The springtime long now ended
and summers turned to fall
The gold was tinged with silver
and a fairy came to call
Categories:
smallish, autumn, beauty,
Form:
Rhyme
Betty and Johnny, who were seven and eight,
lived close to the zoo, very near the front gate.
They visited often, with their mom and their dad,
and always told Gran about the fun that they had.
One day as the wind blew through the Crumpledink trees'
tickling the crinkly bright yellow leaves.
Johnny and Betty decided to play,
out on the porch, where they'd stay there all day.
They opened the door, but to their surprise,
a blue fuzzy creature, smallish in size,
jumped up from the chair and stretched out his hand.
"Pleased to meet you my friend," his words rather bland.
"Who are you?" said Betty with a sheepish grin
as she held out her hand and his fur touched her skin.
"I am what I am, and my name is that too,
I'm a Grrreeble," he said, "and I live at the zoo."
"Then what are you doing here at our house?"
asked Johnny, his voice squeaked like a mouse.
"I saw you at the zoo in the star gazing dome.
You seemed so nice, I followed you home."
"But you can't stay here," Johnny croaked like a frog, "So,
back to the zoo, to the zoo you must go!"
Betty looked at the Grrreeble and said, "This may be hard..,
You know mom said we can't leave the yard."
But Betty, Oh Betty, what will we do,
How will we get Grrreeble, back to the zoo?
The Grrreeble just sat, head in his hands
"Johnny, I think that you don't understand."
Then he said, "I don't wish to go back to the zoo,
I like it here, I'll stay here with you."
Betty looked at Johnny and giggled with glee,
"Can we keep him? I want him to stay here with me."
"No", Johnny said, "No we can't, no, No, NO!
as soon as he can, to the zoo he must go!"
Johnny looked at the Grrreeble and said with a sigh,
"We really do like you, but we must say goodbye."
So they played for a little
games like frosty fooks frittle
with bright red hats and dressum up clothes
and loud frustal whistles, you blow through your nose.
Then later that morning after eating their brunch
they made him a sandwich, dinklebutter and jelly, to take for his lunch,
and turning away Grrreeble said, with tears in his eyes,
"Thanks, it's been fun, to play with you guys."
Now often they visit their friend at the zoo
with a dinklebutter sandwich, they hope you'll come too.
9/17/2015
Categories:
smallish, children, friend, fun, silly,
Form:
Couplet
Attitude
Tom Wright
11-10-2016
Discouraging words are uttered every day,
And the most hurtful I hear is “I don’t care.”
Dudes get uptight when not getting their way,
That is more lamebrain than a barrel of hair.
Not caring about things is a bad place to live,
And from our vocabularies we should abolish.
Thinking only of one’s self with nothing to give,
Exposes us as being thoughtless and smallish;
Categories:
smallish, emotions, words,
Form:
Lyric
Invisible predators steal my soul
taking me to a bowl of stale potato chips
dunking me down beneath the cigarette butts
That were not ever well-hidden in the bottom
Plunking me down firmly with their beady
little hands and their alien eyes. Laughing maniacally
while I thrash around, trying to get free
Then they grab me up having a better idea
And plunk me face down, bound but not gagged,
Which would have been invariably better,
into a smallish bowl of cold, half-eaten oatmeal.
I die ungracefully, and irritated.
Categories:
smallish, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Chanting from the spirit world enters my soul as I sleep, enslaving me fully into her familiar beat, I dance with abandon, tossing my hair, flipping my feet, in childlike wildness.
Boundless in its pursuit of me, my inner voice incorporates itself into my dream, terribly ethereal in true spiritual form, bringing my real self into the higher realms, ones not fully reached until death.
My joyful soul is soaring now, spinning, and whirling, transforming me into a dervish, insanely happy to have found my tribe, loving my inner sweet pureness which is gentled out of me nightly.
I seek her every night, my sleeping day soul, in my dream state, and she keeps me in her warm, loving grasp, replenishing me in bits and pieces, in smallish intervals, showing me my true delight.
I embrace my dream state with the innocence of a unicorn, and rainbow hope, knowing her truth.
Categories:
smallish, dream, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
THIS CALMING SEA
I sit here in the darkness at a window
that mirrors my wild mane, unruly me
Imagine how in time this house will grow
around me, a Rapunzel, you will see
My hair in braids grow down a castle vast
The nurses turned to wicked witches, wild
If you don't save me, I will never last
A lonely, lost, love seeking smallish child
Their screams are in my head, such ugly sound
Of capture, castigating, lashing words
My hands, over my ears, have never found
Relief from them, I wish I were a bird
To fly away, and leave my legs behind
To have my arms be wings to carry me
(To where no harm or evil ever find)
Eternally over this calming sea
Categories:
smallish, abuse, anxiety, bird, introspection,
Form:
Quatrain
The Love Affair
The road that leads to a smallish agricultural flatland has
two walls. One wall was built by a slob, just throwing
one stone on top of another.
The other wall was built by a craftsman where stones
fitted and he had used decorative and white painted
cement between them.
Every Sunday the meticulous man walks to his wall
and find great satisfaction to see his work again and
wishes the slob would rebuild his wall.
Every Sunday the layabout goes for a walk to,
first to the bar for a few beers with his mates; he walks
to the good man’s house and have sex with his wife.
Categories:
smallish, first love, humorous,
Form:
Burlesque
since maintaining a diet
of exercise heeding "yo dude"
(you look like a lady)
the inner fitness maven against
the temptation of high caloric junk food
and nightly snack king
on a flexible fitness routine,
this LIX aged body electric feels good
these myopic eyes and
well-calibrated hands measure less dense hood-
winking bosom, that if I feigned being
a "bared naked lady" -
as per this chest lewd
city in reference to "man boobs"
that seemed to materialize overnight
now appear to decrease as well
that unwanted "love handle,
this chap more inclined
tubby in a greater mood
to parade around
this noncrowded house shirtless
AND definitely NOT in public,
BUT no weigh Jose
would this generic guy go completely nude
cuz being self-consciousness of my physique
might prompt outsiders
to consider me a prude
and even during closed bedroom door
sexual exploits deter me tibia rude
fellow (with average go daddy long legs)
and my dangling dipstick smallish
(concluding biology screwed)
a chap worthy tube he more endowed,
though gratitude proffered
to same divine cosmic consciousness
but as the year's pile up appreciation
of functional faculties alter matts' at tee 'tude
accepting physical characteristics
more or less static
hoe ping belive mass elf ya wood.
Categories:
smallish, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Personification
The lock clicks,
And the apartment is left lifeless.
Each piece of furniture lining the walls,
Is lifeless under winters' creeping touch.
The T.V. was left on,
Playing reruns of "Dukes of Hazard".
Silently it flashes in the background.
A blanket is unfolded on the tannish stained couch,
And a pillow rests near the arm.
Crumbs lead from the small living area to the smaller kitchen.
A bowl sits on the counter,
Holding milk from cereal this morning.
The milk is warm now.
One of the drawers is left ajar,
Plastic silverware is unorganized within.
The mess of the kitchen leads into the smallish bedroom
One bed; unmade.
A small chestnut dresser, with clothes hanging from the drawers.
Some trinkets clutter and a coasterless cup stains the wood.
A towel has been thrown across the hardly carpeted floor,
Leading into the minuscule bathroom.
It is still steamy from a shower in the morning.
A grungy toothbrush rests on the counter by the nearly empty toothpaste tube.
The rusty shower head drips.
Plinking into the hair clogged drain.
It drips and drops, drips and drops,
But no one is there to hear it.
Categories:
smallish,
Form:
Free verse
In waste places beside the road
Coltsfoot grows in fertile till.
A smallish flower no higher than a toad
Its habitat seems to fit the bill.
Not expecting a flower in this land
Odd brown scales clasp its stalk.
Skunk cabbage neighbors in its sand
And makes a "feller" stop and gawk..
Leaves not unlike the hoof of a colt
Hence the name, Colts-foot, you know.
The first flower in spring to bolt
And a weed that escapes my hoe.
By any name, it's still a weed.
Categories:
smallish, flower, food, nature, seasons,
Form:
Lyric
I’m salt,
ionic,
on tables laid iconic,
abrasive, bitter,
savoury and,
consecratory:
Tridentined mandatory:
a quarter
of the blessings
from the sky.
And without me
in smallish lots,
you die.
Categories:
smallish, nature,
Form:
KINGDOMS OF POWER
man - with his little sphere of influence,
claims mighty power, in his smallish hands.
mini empires, like stars from the universe,
like microscopic atoms - they march on -
stomping, squeezing, squashing, squelching - mere men.
they think, it will shut them up, dismember time.
movies hail them with majestic symphony,
shuffling through narrow streets – clanging harsh.
~~
on quiet mule, (a little braying – perhaps),
a humble man, a meek child bride – travel.
heaven’s spotlight upon them - star of Bethlehem!
angels gaze, wisemen seek, shepherds shake,
as a virgin gives birth to a unique boy
one that, if he chose, could play with this earth.
this infant king is bigger than life itself,
“Adam’s breath” received from His own spirit.
while little men sleep, in castles of gold,
the sinless Savior lies in a manger.
~~
the puppeteer pulls the strings, supposing
he’s in control - chops wood, prepares nails -
draws blood, sweat and tears. on stage, all appears
lost. hope is buried. a huge stone is rolled,
blocking entrance to the holy of holies.
but wouldn’t you know, God can tear it in two!
innocent blood was spilled on this spoiled earth
claiming it back, redeeming us, and pow…
the power and majesty of the living God
shows up, shows off. Light raises the dawn.
~~
once again, He is quiet, biding His time
giving kingdoms a chance to change their minds.
to arrive at this conclusion – you must be saved -
lest you die, an eternal death! not wanting
anyone to perish, He holds back his sword.
if our tongues would do the same, and believe,
confess, instead of curse, just believe, and
be saved, because His majesty WILL BE praised.
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
Categories:
smallish, christian,
Form:
Free verse
“Give me the phone Effie.
I have to make a call.”
She handed it over to me
and walked into the hall.
The inspector had no clues.
He asked for my two cents,
asked me to give him my views.
I didn’t; the call was intense.
The dame had come in
asking for my advice
two days ago and then
was arrested by Vice.
I had seen the smallish
puncture, blood pooling,
and I wanted to abolish
the coroner’s ruling.
The wound was there,
but he missed the needle
lying next to the chair.
He tried to wheedle.
If I couldn’t get the cops
to do their job, I’d need
to pull out all stops
to find a hard lead.
For Gershon...with smiles
Inspired by, but not entered in, Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Categories:
smallish, confidence, death, murder, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
I Turned My Back
A spirit casually approached, shat its parched load,
producing a small cloth it worked its hands furiously,
fashioning of clay and soot something to assuage a
deep yearning in its soul, something that looked,
as it looked to itself.
I turned my back to the left, my sight took in these images,
touched to my core this phenomenon pierced hot like a steel blade,
searing a scaring wound punctually within, permanently set.
I let out a scream, which carried back into the canyons and the recesses where smoke resides apart from fire, where water breaks into its separate molecules.
A world-like landscape emerges from a thinning air, dusty and rough in texture, sprouting forth smallish shrooms in iridescent hues, resembling footprints in snow they shimmer and vibrate.
The spirit and itself have moved in and around this landscape before,
leaving their footprints, their mark.
The immediacy of my experience continues to pierce impressionably,
I am now a marked man, my goal; adapt consciously.
Categories:
smallish, feelings, freedom,
Form:
Free verse