Best Squint Poems
My garden lies between the trees
Where lilies dance in gentle breeze
And lilacs whisper pretty please
To a butterfly's caressing tease
Nearby glows the buttercup
Where honey bees come to sup
While hummingbirds on branches squint
To catch a glimpse of hyacinths
And daffodils in yellow coats
Sway to songbirds dulcet notes
Queen Anne's lace is also grown
With Forget-me-nots and anemones
But the rose in beauty stands alone
And smiles demurely from her throne
----
Joseph May
© 5/2/14
STILL LIFE WITH FRUIT
In spite of the orchard
A far white moon dominates
Its sick room presence lifts the eye
Still life with fruit –
Crescent dish with bananas, apples, pears -
A wrinkled bed spread falls off the sky
In all an angular canvas,
A drowsy cubist squint,
Imposed shapes, lines – Picasso pie
This pointed, silver vase pokes through
Its ample gift of flowers,
Destroys the view – Oh, my!
I’ve come to, limp right arm yet hangs over,
Attendant tells, “Breakfast time. You hungry?
Let’s sit up. There! Good guy.”
Dave Austin
Where is it now that I put my heart
The last time I took a break from love
I remembered thinking I wouldn’t need it for awhile
So I put it in a place high above
I feel so silly now
I mean it’s so important
And I knew I would need it again
But I was trying to be logical
And I wasn’t ready
With my heart to contend
I don’t know, maybe it’s a sign
And I’ll just leave it hidden away
It’d be so much easier if that dreamy voice
Wasn’t always purposed my way
Gosh if only you knew
Dag gone I bet you do
How when you lean in close for affect
The breath of your whispers
Leave me completely unglued
When they gently caress my neck
Oh men! I can’t stand ‘em
See that squint in my eye
And my nose pointed up in the air
My arms are folded and I’m quite determined
Then you turn and catch my stare
Oh Geez! I used to be much better at this
You ask for my number to phone
I give it to you willingly
But for three days
I
Will
Not
Be
Home!
His hat pulled over the baby blues
A squint a stare as
he slowly headed down a street that had never known
violence with a pistol on either hip
drawing the attention of each passerby but never meeting their gaze
as he trod with a purpose toward a destination that had his arrival timed for
high noon
while his heart beat fast as he saw the hands of the town clock
reaching for the sky sending the message
that it might be too late when a voice stopped him in his tracks
saying
Tommy, where have you been. It's time for lunch.
I squint my eyes from the glaring sun
As I drive cattle across the open range.
I am the youngest hand, so I ride drag
Covered by the dust stirred into the wind.
This is the life I have chosen
To hear the steady creaking of my saddle
The songs of the cowboys as they lead the herd
The lowing cattle as they smell water.
This is the life I live
To see the endless stretches of prairie
The hens and rabbits scuttling away
The ponderous beasts flowing in a living stream.
This is the life I love
Watching the horses graze peacefully at night
The cattle milling about during my night ride
My horse's gentle breathing as I circle them.
May this be my lot while here I remain
May I drink from the freely flowing streams
And breathe the pairie air until I die.
Whether life be short or long
May I ever onward toil, and be content
With the satisfaction of honest work
With the steady pounding of hooves
Biscuits and chili by a wavering fire
And sleeping under the sky on the open range.
Fate rewarded some who came,
Daily problems quickly solved.
Wisdom thrived in their domain,
Joyful as their lives evolved.
You distorted what you saw,
Public minutes, private years.
Never witness to the flaws,
Hidden turmoil, muted tears.
Eyes, reflecting wrong side up,
Squint through nickelodeans.
Brilliant microscopic dust
Floating through what might have been.
All delusions bring the same,
Different versions of yourself.
Time can't alter what remains,
Single bookend, empty shelf.
Gene Bourne.
08-23-14
.
My mother starts moaning, with another one due.
She won't live to see, as she struggles to wheeze.
I never knew famine would produce skies so blue.
But no need for toilets, I forget how to squeeze.
Searing sun inflates skulls into baroque balloons.
One whining dog, dying , from a surfeit of fleas.
I squint as my sister beats a roach with a spoon.
She's holding out hope, with a morsel to tease.
My eyes can still water from the feces and trash,
tossed up by vultures to release fresh disease.
I dig up what moist dirt I can pound into mash.
An old man collapses, not a single one grieves.
What passes for corpses- baking black as they pop.
Now the flies feel the heat and retreat to the trees.
My brother keeps wailing and I wish he would stop.
My breathing grows shallow in the oven fed breeze.
If it helps each of you,
I am down on my knees.
I beg you.
Hand me one piece of bread.
Would you, please?
Even the gulls have ceased their squawking
V-formations over eerie, calm seas
Is it you? The ferryboat man?
Making your way across waters without breeze
No lapping waves, sand fine as silt
Makes no sound as I leave footprints
A misty morning, no shells crack ‘neath my feet
The red orb rises, causes me to squint
Alone with my thoughts by the River Styx
I sense the passage from this world to the next
My mind on heaven seems transfixed
I stand and stare by quietude perplexed
The ferryboat man reaches shore
A wave of his hand beckons me
Without a word I board his craft
Before me lays the journey to eternity
Serenity comes as we cross the river
A world without sound surrounds me
A world that I willingly choose to leave
All senses drained now, as death I foresee
*For Paula’s “Breathe in the Silence” Contest
I have a light within
that I've somehow curtained,
put something in its way.
I cast a shadow across
everything. It is no defect
of the eye but of the spirit,
a flaw I have in me,
a dimming I pass on to settle
the scene and rob color
of its intensity.
I've gotten used
to the dull glaze I bring
that now it appears
the natural state of things.
Even water speared
by the sun bleeds a muted sheen,
no bright splinters of light
ricochet off to be caught
by eyes having to hide
behind a squint, I can take
my reflections straight.
There are moments
when I can feel a tightening
and something within me
stretch and tear the stitching
on a seam. Light pours out
and affixes a patch of life
in a blinding beam, too bright
to hold or keep except
for the afterglow it leaves
on a page or lingering
for awhile on the horizons
of a dream.
I’m sorry that I burned the pie.
I’ve tried so hard to fix it.
I would have made another but
It is so hard to mix it.
I’ve scraped it and I’ve dusted it
And covered it with cream.
I hope it will be tasty and
A true pie lover’s dream.
So if you squint a little bit
When tasting that first bite,
You’ll hardly know that it was burned,
Though tasting scorched, a mite.
I was so tired of hearing of
Your mother’s perfect pies
That I thought I’d make one better
And cut hers down to size.
So now just take a little bite,
I’ll give you points for tryin’
And if you tell me it is good,
I’ll give you more for lyin’
lWon first place
so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod
the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating
progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze
into fruits of sweaty labors
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint
the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects
for this season, before the
days bake the green back into
the humus and the cornucopia
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool
eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron
to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze
any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup
© Goode Guy 2011-08-22
Small print
Eyes squint
Deep snow
Tread slow
Strong gales
Drop sails
Score high
Bulls eye
Great whites
Big bites
Dark rum
Warms tum
Thin hair
Thread bare
Small tent
Legs bent
Wide load
Hogs road
Strong cheese
Bees knees
Flash drive
Archive
Clear night
Stars bright
Peace dove
Spreads love
Suns heat
Dead beat
Earthquakes
Ground shakes
Shots rang
Loud bang
Just wed
Now bed
Written 21st August 2020
I sit in lambskin slippers
and jackets by the score.
I find it hard to pay for heat
The oil is costing MORE?
I squint through specks
the scripts too old
At times I’m VERY quiet,
at times I’m very bold!
I eat raw bits of fishies
on dishies by the score,
and I can use chop stickies
or slurp just like a bore!
I blow my nose and pick it too!
And YOU do too, I’m sure!!!
I’ve chased a thug from an Irish pub
and danced with a matador.
Yes, I’m a real smart old broad
my walls hang with degrees,
yet, when I’m sick like I am now
I wipe my nose on my sleeve!
*Just KIDDINg yeah, [right ;)]
I have one simple question for you.
If you could, would you walk in my shoes?
For one minute, hour, day, month, or year?
But you can’t I fear.
Even if you wanted to, or I made you.
I’m afraid that request will never come true.
All I can do is explain.
And hope you don’t think it’s a lie…or in vain.
But here, I’ll try to explain.
Every day I see mostly blur.
Walk around totally unsure.
Of where things are around me.
Yes I can see.
The flowers, the trees.
I am blessed, and grateful.
I remain faithful.
But the depth, the distance isn’t there.
No matter how much I squint or stare.
But I do what I can, and get by.
No matter what I always try.
But this is just a part.
A start.
Of what I go through.
All I can do is tell you.
I can’t show you.
Or cause you.
To go through it.
So you have to take my word for it.
Every day I wake up.
Most days I feel messed up.
I walk around in a haze.
As if I’m trying to get through a maze.
My head, my leg, is always in pain.
Most people would go insane.
But I deal with it.
I get through it.
The medicine only makes me sicker.
Instead of healing me quicker.
With epilepsy.
You see.
There is always a risk of dying.
But I push on, keep trying.
I keep a smile on my face.
But it gets erased.
When I am accused.
Of this being what I choose.
Or that it’s not real.
You will never know what I feel.
But I tell you now.
I would never wish this on you anyhow.
I would never want or ask of you.
To ever have to walk in my shoes.
Not for a minute, hour, day, or year.
I would rather save you from the tears.
From the pain.
That I go through again and again.
Every day.
All I ask, all I need, for you to say.
Is I believe you, take my hand, it’ll be okay.
She said "Why do you keep running, slow down a little;
Why don’t you open your eyes and see beyond the horizon;
Don’t you see it…?? Coz I see it;
I see it very well without having to squint my eyes or stretch them thus far”
I see it.
“I see good measure in that scorned bitter man twisted and turned by the cruelness of this world”
“I see the sorrow hiding behind that girl’s smile, devoured by vultures of this earth,
I also see divine hope deep within, see it in her eyes as she takes it one day at a time”
So don’t run, slow down & look around you, you may be running your own race but why not stop, take a step back & walk with that troubled mother carrying so much weight on her shoulders,
Why don’t you just slow down & help carry that weight, it will only take a minute “
Coz I see it, with this slow pace of mine
I see that long lost friend, struggling, I see her hands trembling, her loneliness growing, I see her eyes swave trying to hold back anxious tears.
I see that boy and girl walking holding hands, young love it must be but why don’t you just slow down a bit, hold their hands & teach them how it should b, no young innocence should be lead astray.
So you better stop running and slow down a while, look beyond the horizon, coz it may look peaceful, serene & pure but what’s beyond it is what matters. Jus slow down a moment and look around you, it will only take a minute.