Best Sneak Away Poems
Favorite Artist,
A romantic,
A dreamer.
Choice for a favorite artist,
that would be,
Me.
~
I grew up in a family of seven children.
As the oldest I found myself entranced and driven.
Then, other times in a pensive mood
to be alone, in a quiet place, bliss of solitude.
I would sneak away and hide in different places.
No, sound or faces; leave no traces
just my chalks, pencils, and drawing pads
drawing traces of faces among them mom and dads.
As I grew older, I used my talent
to earn a living, every day was a brand-new challenge
discovering new things about me.
Excited and amazed of my talents, I started teaching
reaching for those that had talent, but lacking
self-esteem and making their dreams come true.
Then again, another phase of my life, I pursued
finding myself as a poet, a healing of my soul,
a journey to the depths,
food for substance that made me whole.
~
Being an artist has let me see and feel into my human self
with more meaning and understanding to life.
11/11/2019
I had a long day
and I carried the world
upon my shoulder,
The journey was long
lonely and arduous,
I want to lie down
and close my eyes ...
But not yet.
The sun is setting gently
and a weary wind sighs
through the evening haze,
I want to lay my burden down
and quietly sneak away
from the din of the day ...
But not yet.
I had my days in the sun
I frolicked and I had fun,
It's time to retreat
to my safe haven
and reminisce about
those willful days,
I am ready to confess
and mend my ways ...
But not just yet!
Me barber’s still one of them blokes who lives the school of old,
using methods quite old fashioned to what modern trends unfold,
so with scissors, clippers, hot towel, then lathered with a brush,
he’ll shave you with a cutthroat, though never in a rush.
And he offers further benefits, if you’re that way inclined,
for just a couple of extra bob, you get your shoes well shined,
and while waiting for your turn, you can read a magazine,
or tune in on conversation, while his razors shaving clean.
He sells those huge cigars as well. I think the Cuban brand!
And there’s Californian Poppy that the young won’t understand.
Wafting through his barber shop is the smell of after shave…
And today there is one customer, who wants to misbehave.
He’ll be in the chair before me; I have to put up with his rot,
his voice is loud and won’t shut up, intimidating all us lot,
so when his time had come, we hoped he’d give us all a spell,
then he demands a shave and haircut and to shine his shoes as well.
I watched the barber lathering, before he beckoned with a call…
then this beautiful young woman came and stood in front of all.
The barber mentioned “Here’s a customer, wanting you to shine his shoes”
and when she bent down to do the job she gave some awesome views.
The loudmouth couldn’t help himself; he had to open up his gob.
He mentioned to the pretty lass, that when she finishes her job,
they ought to sneak away together, and book themselves a motel room,
but from the lass who shone his shoes, a shock’s about to loom!
She smiled into his soaped up face, and gave his shoe a pat,
“I’m sorry sir, I’m married and my husband wouldn’t like that.”
“Your husband!” Scoffed the loudmouth, “Use your commonsense!
Tell him you’re working overtime and I’ll pay you the difference.”
The lass raised her brow and gave a grin, then his shoe a final wipe.
She stood up and took a deep breath before replying to his hype,
“Your offers pretty good” she said, “I’ll go and get my hat and coat,
but you can tell him if you like… he’s got the razor at your throat.”
©2005 Lindsay Laurie
Back when girlish daydreams
rode the ether like coal-glowy-clouds
my featly feet kept a beat in spring grass
as I flounced with Romany winds—
breezy-gypsy-lips brushed my cheek
as I whirled in his imaginary arms
‘til I fell over on pillows of clover…
white fields of clover did pillow my dreams
as slow-motion-cumulus shape-shifted
into what I wanted to see
I found you where you stood
a wizard-well made of stone
there you sang
your mouth O-pen
like the eye-of-the-storm
and oh— with fluent depth
your slippery rime beguiled my mind
June wind— a flowy fifer
blew across your rounded rim—
folksy-fife twisted petticoat heartstrings…
my wishes stitched my seams bewitched
—hopes bloomed
like soft-stemmed peonies twined
by choke-hold-vines
in the season before my summer solstice
when skirt-pleats still hid shy knees
how was I to know
wishing for lambs from edelweiss
was as fictive as sugarcane unicorns
so I dared not damage the magic
with doubt’s dent
as I cast blindfolded coins
weighed down with cinder-block-hope
in fealty to a wishing-well deity
who made ethereal echoes of my name
—yet callous your schemes pitching dreams
as empty now as this fool but for my shame
back then life was unmapped—until clover fields
became sneak-away-streets paved with your name
where remains of yesterday’s wishes lay
like burned-out cars along couldn’t-care-less curbs
I was a runner
fleeing from homespun horrors that
wrapped around my delicacy like a tourniquet
Only a child attempting to bestir
the warrior dormant within;
having no idea the enthrallment
she reveled in,
I learned to accost my demons
Nigh, even at the wide-eyed age of eight,
scarred
shattered
broken
I found, in a hand-crafted cardboard crate,
my only chance at freedom
Every Saturday I'd sneak away
to my makeshift universe
that gave life to dreams unspoken --
I would crouch and crawl
through thorn-encrusted branches
enclosed in a thicket,
sunbeams cutting into the tangles
alighting my face, piercing my eyes
The oceans breath
cascaded over the brush,
and everything, suppressed,
would fall into a hush
until I breached the winding path
Amongst the jungle of weeds/rose garlanded structures,
high above the jagged rocks
and wide open mouth of the watery abyss,
my hideaway centered --
flimsy cardboard walls,
brightly painted bold brazen symbols protecting all who entered,
tightly sealed with an invisible lock
opening only when voices of forgotten children fluttered through the air
I'd stand silent beneath the incandescent sky,
for just a moment,
breathing deep the silken salty breeze
and thrust my arms out to the sides
like the seagulls hovering over the loud, fathomless cavern of the sea,
Losing myself in the mist
"If there is a place where peace and stillness prevail, to it people like to retreat when beset with the perils of life. It can be our home. In every storm it is a refuge, a haven of joy and a sanctuary of life and light" ~By Poet
We have a snug retreat far in the woods;
An interim sanctuary, not bigger than a robin’s nest.
But cozy and comfy for just two souls,
A hideout from the fuss n’ fever of life.
It has a small garden hemmed with a hedge,
Neatly laid out in décor and taste
And gleaming with refreshing verdure
The haunt of butterflies and honey bees.
An ideal place to sneak away now and then,
From life’s pressing cares and concerns.
Here the air is pristine sans soot and fumes.
A confluence where peace and beauty unite.
Here we break loose the tethers
From the rigid civilities of urban living.
Throw away the habits of reserve
And become joyous and free-hearted.
Sometimes we make an impromptu trip.
Sometimes we plan it well in advance.
Whatever it be, being here is fun
And enjoy our stay like a weekend picnic.
On some evenings we go gathering,
Succulent fruits and wild berries
And roam to the wide stretch of open fields
Lying furrowed waiting for seasonal crops.
More than ever we now seek solitude.
It is in the quiet and not in the noise,
That we can plumb life’s depths,
That we listen to our hearts’ songs.
It is here our souls acquire dove’s wings.
Though time has taken its toll on our bodies,
Though youth and beauty have gone forever,
Still, we walk in the woods with hands clasped.
In this sanctuary, we breathe free and find comfort
Where sunshine scatters through the canopy of trees
And are sheltered from the pressing responsibilities of life!
Started Writing on July 23, 2024
Finished writing on Oct. 29, 2024
They grew up in different parts of the sky.
A chance meeting changed each of their lives.
Each flying as part of their flock,
They bumped each other when avoiding a rock.
They chirped at each other and wanted to be
The other’s love for eternity.
They would never be together in the world as it was.
They would need to be sneaky about their true love.
Their flocks did not know of their love - so divine.
They would sneak away after chirping well-crafted lies.
And then one day against Mother Nature’s plans
They flew away for good and "took a stand."
Soon a baby bird chirped in their nest
A baby bird quite unlike the rest.
Unlike Romeo and Juliet, suicide was not part of the plan
And the new bird family soon grew into a clan.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
What you see you can't believe
that this life is of me.
Raped an burned cut an sliced
by daddy big ole knife.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
The things You made me do
an the things you did to me
would make you cry you see.
A child so young an afraid
black an blue maybe grey
she never has anything to say.
Broken bones every now an then
as Mommy sets there an just grins.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
I pretend every things ok
As daddy looks this way
an tells me just what to say.
I sneak away from the past
while looking through that
mirrored glass as my time here
has almost past.
I leave this world far behind
as mommy an daddy's world
will shine.
Locked away for ever in a day
This is where they'll always stay.
We climbed the gate while it was dark
So no one saw us in the park
We’d leave at eight and we’d be fine
For ‘Mr Keys’ would come at nine
This garden where the roses grew
In memory of people who
Wouldn’t mind that we were there
For where we trod, we trod with care
Not too much gear, we travelled light
No lamps to show up in the night
We had a place where we would sit
Until things brightened up a bit
Of brick and tin, with seats within
Its open face, a welcome grin
The shelter offered lakeside views
For those bereaved to sit and muse
And gazing out on yonder lake
In no rush for the day to break
It watched the mist sit dense and white
On waters that still clung to night
But as the moon took to its pillow
Something splashed beneath the willow
Newly crowned the sun took hold
To warm two lads who’d braved the cold
And in that dawning day we wished
For fish to feed… and so we fished
With bread or maggots, worms or cheese
To lure the carp from under trees
We caught one never, not once ever
We tried our best but carp are clever
They proved a never ending wait
But perch and roach would take our bait
And so we fished for what would bite
And every fish was pure delight
For every fish was surreptitious
Which made the fishing more delicious
Our voices low to show respect
The silence as I recollect
Was broken when the ducks went daft
Which sounded like the whole lot laughed
Then in the now increasing light
A few of them began to fight
A precursor, perhaps, to breeding
We didn’t care… the fish were feeding
And of the fish that we caught there
A tiddler was extremely rare
Though some were bigger than the rest
And sometimes, one, a personal best
But when the time had passed us by
With Mr Keys’ arrival nigh
Reluctantly we’d sneak away
No sign that we’d been there that day
*
How often have I reminisced
Of two good friends and where we fished
And of the people buried there
And how they didn’t seem to care
I fear to tell you
Why I go to the dark cave every evening.
If you must know
It’s because she whose heart mine is knitted with is a dragon.
A wild beast.
She devours my fears.
She invades my mind and dispels
My doubts.
She dethrones my loneliness.
And pulls down the walls of hate.
She sinks the ships of depression.
I surrendered when she broke down my
gates.
She has taken the empire of my soul.
Have you ever found her kind
In your nature books?
She raids the cities
Of my painful past
And brings to me its spoils.
She is not beautiful?
Your eyes will never tell you she is.
Her beauty is not given to sight to
behold.
She exhales fire; I burn.
She beats my pen into a sword; I conquer.
She is not among the daughters
That go down the stream at eve
With earthen pots to draw water.
She is wingless
Without the poetry
My heartbeats recites.
My whispers are the wind
She glides in.
I sail on her tears
To realms the eagles have not seen.
My ink is the only wine that intoxicates her.
When she lies drunk in my arms
that's when I sneak away
And you find me here.
Do not frown at this slave I have become.
O do not!
For I am gladly enchanted.
There is no return.
Seek me not.
You will never find me.
tracing my footprints on the sands.
Footprints can only be found
on the sands of time.
The realm in her
arms is timeless.
In the stillness of morning
I can truly cherish
Each sacred moment
As I am all too well aware
That it won’t last much longer
The phone will ring
Everyone will soon rise
The musts and wants awaken
Tugging for attention at my skirt
Come midday I’ll crave
Just one tiny second to myself
A place where I can sneak away
But right this minute
Let me bask in this instant of perfection
While it’s in my hand
And hold this breath of silence
That sways in the morning air as
The sun rises in all its glorious splendor
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 10, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE C sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
You realize your wild side is no longer napping
Fully aware you are trying to sneak away
Leaving her in a suitcase or closet
With the fancy miniskirt she loves to wear.
You realize your wild side is listening when
She flings your thigh-high-look-at-me-boots
Onto the bed and sneers at you,
And you cannot stop looking at your make up case.
You realize you are out of your depth when you look
In the mirror and you are wearing your "come hither"
smile and your Wild Side is laughing maniacally
As you prance out the door, ready to party
In all the ways you said you would never party again
After the Wild Side did the same thing to you last night
And the three nights before that. She has you, and you
Have never felt more sexy.
I had a long day
and I carried the world
upon my shoulder,
The journey was long
lonely and arduous,
I want to lie down
and close my eyes...
But not yet!
The sun is setting gently,
As a bitter wind sighs
through the evening haze
I find frost in my most fervent fire,
I want to lay my burden down
and quietly sneak away
from the din of the day...
But not yet!
I had my days in the sun
I frolicked and I had fun,
It’s time to retreat
to my safe haven
and reminisce about
those willful days,
I am ready to confess
and mend my ways...
But not just yet!
~The Fire Inside contest by J L Rodeheaver
Laundry's a tedious task
that is just what I think
Curious, and I must ask 'cause this has me on the brink
Why is one sock always stubborn?
Why does it leave it's partner behind?
When matching 'em up I am so forlorn
are they just trying to be unkind?
Maybe they think it is hilarious
to play this prank on me
I do not think it is funny
Together these socks must be!!
Eventually they all get together
Maybe they party when I'm not home
Do they plan which sock will sneak away next?
Do they have a plan where it will roam?
It sure makes laundry exciting as I play this guessing game
Maybe these woolen beauties
don't want my interest in laundry to wane.
In my mind, there is nothing more scary
Than a city without a library.
Libraries are the souls of our culture.
There's no better place for folks to tarry.
Those that wander along the shelves and nooks
Are likely to be enlightened by books,
And gain knowledge and skills to earn success
Libraries don't attract gangs, crooks, or snooks.
Childen will always find some place to play.
Lovers will find some place to sneak away.
People that want to usually find jobs.
Libraries keep minds from going astray!