Best Splotched Poems

She sits perched, like a gorgeous gargoyle, upon the boulder
splotched with spots of mint chocolate ice cream moss - the wind tasting
her lovely locks as...

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If I were to tell you
Of a Saturday in May,
Of lying in bed as the sun came up
And brightened the room;

If I were to tell...

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At last I was a fruitful writer, and my new novel was selling well,
Like the stars of a moonlit evening, putting lovers under a spell.

I...

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there was a girl,
a natural artist.
she painted her artwork everywhere she went.
she painted her lonely walls, she painted her skies.

she painted for everyone, they cherished...

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Down the pine-studded mountain and towards the sea
Me, mounted on a rickety, swaying, desperately-desiring bus,
Floorboard splotched with rusted holes revealing
tires
Below my feet 
and salted sea...

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Once, when no star shined
on slick, black, asphalt roads,
the murky wetness of November's 
watered nights a freedom-feeling 
and strangeness-sense inspired.

The moisture lubricated
sluggish mental cogs that
all...

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A small advance party scouted the valley high,
The rest,
In a ba,
Massed on the ocean nigh,
Not towering creatures with spindly hairs,
Nor mountains of bellows with rumbles...

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My shirt is splotched with spit-up,
Though my shoulder sports a burper.
My clothes are like a kingdom
And my grandson's the usurper.

He drinks his bottle, gives a...

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Poets stumble over half written sonnets
find themselves trapped in dark poetic throes
Not for the lack of interest, but they often wilt
as petals wither on the...

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The sands of the tumultuous rain drops,
Graced my eyes to the brim with tears, 
Splotched memories behind my eye lids,
Like a finger print you stuck...

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Behind my desk of daily duties I hide obliged,
blind in perceived intent in days debilitating me,
grinding relentless against my need to find meaning…
my bleeding mind...

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november’s storms keep my travels safe indoors 
the wind and snow prosper 
the tumult is a sad caricature of change
gusts play tag with ill-prepared complaining...

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My night palace is a dark abode,
a mortal passage to salvation.
I play the day just as I'm told,
until night's invitation.

Paternal guidance at night sublime,
dead days...

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I'm not a man's man, man
I'm just what's left in the garbage can
Mixed in with all the rubbish
of some yuppie's leftover dinner
And oh boy he's...

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One lone tree standing sentinel over the grassy field; patches of weeds stealing ground 
with dandelions intermingled, their bright, cheery color lessening their thievery. The...

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