Best Spikey Poems
Daddy brought it home to mother
She did not like it at all, in fact it made her angry
Those innocent tough spikey, sword-shaped leaves
Centered with white rosettes in tight buds caused anger
Today when I see those buds appear
I think of you~ Sadness wrenches my heart
You meant well and that Yucca has spread
There are many white rosette buds dripping dew and rain
You called it bear grass while laughing
Finding it in the woods you dug it up
Those rosettes still in bud waiting to open
Mother did not laugh~ she wanted a lilac bush
Years later I told my husband not to dig it up
Let it stay, memories flood my heart, mind and soul
Each spring when the spikes appear straight and strong
Loaded with rosettes of your laughter~ my grief wanes
Then joy fills my being because
Yucca's creamy buds remind me of your love and joy
How your emotions could change
When seeing the beauty of the simple Yucca buds
I think you were a poet and romantic at heart
I know this is not a quatrain but is more free verse.
Categories:
spikey, emotions,
Form:
Quatrain
(*Note- I suggest you read this with a boom box going in your head. Can you dig it?)
Yo,
Now gather round, my brothers ,settle down while I regale ya
with some tales about my lady from the kingdom Animalia,
and it's gonna take a while ,so listen up, coz there's a lotta
things I think you need to know about the Phylum Arthropoda.
Now, mah baby's got some colour and she's lookin' really cute
with her wings so finely tailored that you'd never find a suit
with such material so delicate and colours that just gleam
if you checked out what they sell in Rubenstein's in New Orleans.
Well, her six legs work together in a symphony of class
as from head down through her thorax she can really shake some ass,
though their fronts are smooth and silky, on her calves they're real spikey
food receptors on her feet so she ain't never wearing Nikes.
All the same she gives good lurvin', such a passionate embrace
though I wasn't too impressed first time I ever saw her face.
With her two big baby blues (and they're real mothers) compound eyes
I can never tell if she is checking out some other guys
and I'm careful when we kiss, as she has got one big proboscis
gotta make sure that ahm well away when every time she flosses.
Never saw her family photos and it's somethin' ah should miss
'coz her pupae was damn ugly and so was her Chrysalis.
Though we're going steady now I couldn't marry if I wanna
'coz she says in six month's time that she is going to be be a gonner.
And she only drinks from puddles, for the salts that appetize her
so I sit and watch and crack mahself a bottle of Budweiser.
Well I thank yo all for hearing me and listening to mah song
and I know to some my love affair may seem just slightly wrong
but I caught her eye and she moved in with just her heart to guide her
and I fell for her and we began to- hold on...DAMN! A SPIDER!!!
4th December 2015
For contest 'Butterflies- men only, sponsored by Skat A and Poet Destroyer A
Categories:
spikey, butterfly, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
male pampas grass blooms
spikey, creamy, shoots against green....
bumble bee's hums roar
Categories:
spikey, nature,
Form:
Haiku
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would rush about the place,
I would hold my long pointy fingers in front of me as I sprang from door to door,
My pointy boots deftly propelling me from shadow to shadow my pointy ears sleek in the dark,
I would wear an elf’s cloak like a slender bony wraith and be like Pan in the woods.
If I was Leonard Nimoy, ceaselessly running here and there,
I would fondle things, peruse things, and look under things and open cupboards,
A real nosey sneak, climbing through windows and going through draws,
I’d sniff other people’s belongings with my long sensitive nose,
trying on peoples clothes, reading their diaries, wearing their shoes.
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would be a real cheeky bastard,
Quickly rushing about, hands in front, cloak flapping behind,
Stooping like a thief in the dark, arranging dinner dates, making phone calls,
Then I would vocally abuse people and adroitly cut them down.
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would use my Vulcan logic to orally molest people,
I would line people up with my stone hard glare and coldly hurl verbal perversions at them
Willowy fingers, hunched shoulders, flat black hair, pointy ears, spikey shoes, cloak fluttering behind.
Expressionless, cool, thin and dexterous, I’d cause a right awkward mess behind the scenes.
Categories:
spikey, humorous, people, me, people,
Form:
Ode
P erchance has anyone seen something fishy
I n the pot of soup we all like to eat?
R aucous spices of refute with long spikey teeth.
A re there some questionable ingredients that do
N ot blend well with all the others?
H ave you smelled the odor, the fishy stench they put out?
A dding a little more water may tame the flavor down.
I ngredients in a broth should compliment each other
N ot over power like the bitter taste of thistle weed.
T aste and see if the soup really needs any more salt
H ere's hoping some spices will not assault your tongue.
E njoying a bowl of soup should only bring dining pleasure.
S o be careful when you measure the spices from the shelf,
O r you might find you'll belch and have to spit it out.
U ntil you know what seasonings are thrown into the pot,
P lease don't let a piranha chef spoil the soup in the kitchen.
Categories:
spikey, food, funny,
Form:
Acrostic
SWEET SPIKEY
A snowy spike of fine feathers,
Rested atop his diminutive crown.
Striking onyx eyes nestled in golden cheeks,
Great thieves are these of frowns.
An engaging and colorful character whose
Amusing antics entertain from sun to set.
An ample possession of mischief & charisma,
Made him a family member, not a mere pet.
A tumultuous captivity before his fated adoption,
Gave way to his deep dependency and fear.
A large void to be filled in his new mother’s life,
gave birth to a need to keep him safe and near.
The bond that formed was unbreakable,
As profound as a mother and her child.
A joy to wake up to & to come home to,
He was a destroyer of loneliness, & I was beguiled.
A change in behavior, a lackluster demeanor.
Fatigue and lack of play brought aches of concern.
A visit to the animal hospital was a one way trip
He was a young soul, it just wasn’t his turn.
This little bird was the best friend that I’ve ever had,
A life that could not be forgotten nor replaced.
Spikey, I will miss and love you forever,
I carry with me our memories that can never be erased.
Categories:
spikey, pets,
Form:
Elegy
ice crystals rest on my window
like a second skin
a season's restless spirit
in water vapour
condensing
a winter picture frame
spheres of spikey stains
in a silent closing
patterns complete
symmetry looping
luring
ice flowers tangible
that carve their way
down my window
till a warming sun
swallows them whole
Poem composed January 29, 2023
Categories:
spikey, cool, february, image, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
It’s a weed in name only
Spikey green leaves, a yellow face
Hearty with a no-nonsense enthusiasm
Growing with total abandon
With no regard for rules
In gardens, lawns, in tiny cracks
At last forming a perfect ball of silver threads
Pouf! The seeds blown by the wind
Or by little ones with childish delight
The dandelion….
4/4/19
Categories:
spikey, flower,
Form:
Free verse
I watched the gentle waves lapping the shore
And taste the salty breeze from the ocean air
I saw seagulls flying horizontally without a care,
Spreading their wings in the calm atmosphere.
Politics powers reign and lovers claim romance
Parties began, and the united theme stood strong,
Crowds weave merrily in victory celebration dance
On land, demons ran until the spirit caught everyone.
Summer days filled with hazy languid sunny rays
Night retreat stay softly in the moonlight glades,
The heaven displays a theater of stars for our eyes,
Make grassy meadows appears like spikey blades.
Set the stage for the season of nature to mature,
And let out of cages the cocoon time to grow,
Harmoniously into happier moods of pleasure,
Brimming with gaiety, and abundant love to show.
When it's dark the heat goes where slumber snooze,
And search out of our dreams what reality withholds.
Until fantasy throws open the doors that were close,
To make summer days filled with memorable goals.
Beautiful kisses in the sublime recess of relaxing way,
from the ocean floor we make sandcastles on the shore,
Runners jog effortlessly in the generosity of the day
Embrace lazy heat and soak up the change of employer.
Summer days bloom with love that envisages adventure,
Laughter stays longer, and humor lingers fragrantly,
With smiles that turn heads and eyes hot as fire
Summer is a portrait of time to make people happy.
Categories:
spikey, beach, happy, romance, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
I had spent time decorating my home for Christmas Day,
but felt forlorn when I should be quite gay;
the blinking lights on the tree were bright and pretty,
as I wept tears of sadness holding my sweet kitty;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
I fell asleep in front of a smoldering fire place,
waking with tangled hair to find an elf face;
but this elf had real jewels in his spikey hair,
well, you are not really the answer to my prayer;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
Suddenly, a tiny beautiful fairy appeared to sit beside him,
and they began to sing loudly a Christmas hymn;
stop, I begged you are off key for heavens sake,
and can you not see I am full of heartbreak;
you see, I am all alone now all have died !
Well, not anymore silly they both said at the same time,
I looked and noticed she also had jewels sublime,
they heard my weeping and they just had to come;
what are your names please and where are you from,
you see, I am alone now all have died !
He is Donica and I am Evadne from planet BOB,
you see visiting sad people is our forever job;
this odd little couple beings really tickled my funny bone.
it was so NICE to not be visiting a headstone;
you see I am all alone now all have died !
So, all Christmas Day we sang all kinds of songs,
mostly off key but with the joy where it belongs;
but the next morning my house was stone cold,
except for the jewels left- for me to forever hold !
__________________________
December 12, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Beings From The Planet BOB
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1311-466-12
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Fantasy with fictional beings
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger, Judged 01/02/21
First Place
Categories:
spikey, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Dry river mystery
The river in the domestic landscape was not as big
as it used to be, for years, the rain upland fell sparsely
when the hot summer came, the river dried up.
The river bed was eerily white with a massive overhang
spikey plants as a scar of lumpy skin after heart surgery.
Of the farmer’s four children, three liked to play
in this mysterious scenery of skull-like rocks, when lifted
had pockets of water like there was a hidden stream
under the bed, the fourth child had an instinctive fear
of the dry river’s strangeness and kept away.
When the summer was over, rain of epic proportion
came to the mountain where the river’s nascent began.
Suddenly a wall of water ran faster than a train
drowning all in its rouse to meet the sea.
The farmer whose wife had died when giving birth
to the fourth child was devasted, those will lose
tongues blamed him for being thoughtless.
Of the surviving child, nothing is known, fading away
as never born.
Categories:
spikey, angst, august, corruption,
Form:
Free verse
the silver birch
it likes to hide
so as you search
at eventide
you find it there with many friends
playing poker through the night
the common oak
a wise old man
an aging folk
since time began
grandfathers of the forest they
speak myth and folklore when they can
the sycamore
with helicopter seeds
sets out its store
among the weeds
then grows to be big and strong
from people’s picnics on which it feeds
the horse chestnut
is the conker tree
the children’s favourite
but too spikey
until they are ready later on
and why kids were late home for tea
the yew
is old
and grew
so slow
its age is in millennia
and battles from the archer’s bow
the hawthorn
its blossom white
and at dawn
as if it snowed all night
then all too soon the white has gone
a desperate case of bad stage fright
the conifer
fir, spruce and pine
a regular
likes mead and wine
to keep it warm in winter then
comes into homes at Christmas time
Categories:
spikey, fun, funny, humorous, light,
Form:
Light Verse
I love the singinng silence as I muse
Listening to this silence brings delight
Deep within the silence are the cues
Everything from classic to the blues
Make my better sentences take flight
I delight in silence as I muse
Slowness with its thoughtfulness imbues
Words with love and depth and inward sight
Deep within the silence are the cues
Not like crosswords cunning little clues
The cues I find can make the mind ignite
I delight in silence as I muse
Not for me those spikey high heeled shoes
I want shoes that run till I take flight
I delight in silence as I muse.
As we write we feel the inner fight
Our language weaves a web but not of spite
I delight in silence as I muse
Deep within the silence I hear cues
Categories:
spikey, allusion, analogy,
Form:
Villanelle
Sharp, spikey, shark.
Teeth, a line of keys
Opening up your chest of purity.
The eyes: soulless,
Following every curve,
Tainting the nail that drips from my fingertips.
Their fins
Caressing your sweet cheeks,
removing the sugar.
They splash
Sea salt in our eyes
To blind us from the foul night.
Foul night, shoulders, breath
Every stinking whisper rides
Caressing every swollen goosebump.
They create a ring of ripples
Carelessly making waves
In silence.
And it’s the silence that hinders.
For in the ignorance of night
No-one hears,
Sees
A predator on the prowl.
Does
Nothing. It is their thoughts that disgust me most of all.
Their fantasies
Of princesses and fingers.
I wear the crown of vulnerability
Above my virgin face,
That leaves every towel gleaming white.
They smell blood,
Reduced to desire,
Their fins rising higher
Along my dainty skirt,
Snatching the material
Like it’s theirs to take.
Red plagues the water,
But their hands are clean.
And I?
I’m done.
Categories:
spikey, 12th grade, deep, fear,
Form:
Free verse
Anthony
Weary of things once craved... then became
burning and squirming under life bending lens
caving in to please those spikey-shadowy things
a million mental monkeys to navigate through
not enough butterfly- beauty or bloom.
Another flight into a barbed wire sky
lonely spirit wandering a cloudy lullaby
driven to the fringe of a dead end town,
just another bloated fun house clown
dabbing rouge onto hope's sunken cheek.
Anthony
Categories:
spikey, food, sad, travel,
Form:
Free verse