Best Swats Poems
My
small cute
kitty cat
is a lady.
How delicately
she creeps along the bed!
As if to beg my pardon,
she apprehensively proceeds
until, finding the spot she prefers,
she settles, softly purring, on my head.
Jan. 11, 2017
For Brenda Chiri-Carroll's "For the Love of Kittens" Poetry Contest
(This is true! She loves sitting on the pillow right near my head and she lightly swats at me in the morning to get up and get her food!!)
It's the look of anticipation in a preschoolers eyes
as he holds your hand near the playground gazing in skies.
It's the prolonged kiss when the preacher says to the couple side by side
“I pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
It's the gaze of a kitten as she swats at the laser light
as she hopes for a game that is fun and bright.
It's the yard in the morning after a night of cold snow
when the sun is just high enough and the wind has stopped its blow.
But love from the Creator God is by far the most of all
the most perfect source of unassailable purity without any downfall.
I brush my cat for five minutes daily,
But she just wiggles and struggles and swats;
All I want is to enhance her beauty,
All I need is to get rid of those knots.
Oh darn the shedding, mating and hairballs,
She is very angry with me for hours;
I try to hold her but away she crawls,
I tempt her with treats but she looks so sour.
So I decided to give her a short cut,
Oh so baleful and upset and angry;
Now she is a lion on my blanket,
She sure looked mad as a hornet to me.
Staring with those eyes saying I bite,
Oh poor kitty you do look quite a sight!
__________________
October 24, 2015
Poetry/English Sonnet/"The Cat Is Mad" as a Hornet
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 720-797-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Eye knew it
The dirty fly has compound eyes
It sees in all directions
A swatter swats it anyway
So much for eye protection
Randomling Contest August 30, 2015
What happens to all the brown-skinned girls?
Sitting on the stoop waiting for the ice cream man to come
20 plats in their hair
Turning the double dutch rope
Sitting in the middle of the classroom
You know, that one girl . . . what’s her name?
ponytails neither pony nor tail
Who aren’t allowed to wear their hair down
or sport Brand X Jeans
Who can’t wash that Diaspora right out of their hair
or erase their royal heritage
The ones that pop their gum the loudest
Run the fastest
Fight the hardest
Dream the most
Ones who don’t wear pants and go to church all day Sunday
got tattoos
wear makeup
or slide into their short skirts on the way to school
Who are picked first for the team
picked last
or never picked at all . . .
Girls - who don’t have time to hang out ‘cause they “gotta go to work!”
for their new dress
or in their old car
to pay the light bill that momma “forgot”
Girls who roll their neck
and their eyes
their hair and their hips
to the rhythms of the Congo, Bronx, or the Swats
Girls who sing in the mirror as they glue, braid and towel on that
long . . . wavy . . . hair
Who, “hate that stupid light-skinded girl” because
“she thinks she’s so cute”
or hate themselves because they think so too . . .
Some may have never had him hold their hand
call them beautiful
take them to the father/daughter dance
come to their rescue . . .
See he was
in jail/out of town/in denial/out of time
insane
to forego all the love that just one little brown-skinned girl has to give
Girls. Not little Halle, Beyonce, or J Lo
But young Angela, Carol, Michelle, and Alek
Those awe-inspiring girls who don’t yet know
that they are
Elegant, intelligent
engaging
enchanting . . .
Who don’t see themselves
On movie screens - in magazines
The eyes of the world, little boys
Their own
Who buys them a bomb pop when the ice cream man comes?
Tastes the sweet undertones buried in dark chocolate
Loves them?
Loves them for themselves
Who loves them
Loves them
Who loves
A Beautiful Death
High on a hill hidden by shrubs
I am embraced by the branches of trees
I am worshiped by nature
I hide from the exhaustion of humanity’s harassment
I am safe from the horrendous appetite of others
Here comes a high-priced counselor hollering about an inheritance bequeath by my ancestors
He does not pay homage to the harmonic hum of creation
He swats at the harmless honeybees hovering in non-threating swarms
He fails to hear the healing hymns shared by my Father
He has hunted me down to handover hundreds and thousands worth of useless currency
How did he find me?
He is horrified when I asked him to keep his check
Instead…give me what the Spartans called “A beautiful death.”
When moments of melancholy manipulate my mind
I remain in my imagination
Where merry memories as a minor make me remember mere minutes of mirth
Immediately I am reminded of how miserable my millennium has become
My emotions seem meaningless
My time on Mother Earth, a mistake
Remarkably my mood mutates
And I ask My Lord for mercy;
Remove me from this realm
And give me what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
Quietly in my coffin—tricked into wearing a tux
A comical smirk marks my mask
I could have collapsed on a corner
Countless wouldn’t have noticed
One more cigarette would have been nice—
Because cancer did not caress my corpse
So-called companions circle my casket
Consoling each other with questions
They are all concerned… “Suicide?” they asked
They sincerely think they could have rescued me
From the epic conclusion of my existence
Their cold-hearts in chaos—they are infected with karma
Could The Creator resurrect me back to collect compensation for their cruelty?
I would decline
Let me relax in peace
And keep what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
I said the fly, "Have the need to pry,
my best point of view is your ceiling.
There I can spot any swats your concealing.
Us flies still can not understand why,
you humans find swatting so appealing?
Have you not wonder why wasps try
to build nests in your ceiling,
why female mosquitoes bite, why?
Okay, some facts I am revealing:
As a fly we need you to die,
as food for our babes before pupating.
So we contaminate your food, well try.
We die quite soon after procreating!
Wasps, as you might know, are not a fly,
but their sting is also to food relating.
Used also as a defence, a sting to defy.
“Shush, my human out loud ruminating,
So while I can I'll buzz you goodbye"!
Swish, gee that fly is so frustrating!
Next time with a bigger net I'll be waiting!
No, I'm not a fly swatter, but you'll still
hear me shout out when I net it, a very
loud, 'GOTCHYA'!
My first personification, buzzin!
reaching for new heights
I climb a step stool --
feline eyes watch
perched up high
cat swats my reaching hand --
a step backwards
a scream resounds --
the floor breaks my fall
and also my wrist
6/19/16
(true story)
Forget being an anarchist
Forget being a feminist
Forget being anti racist
Her body is swaying to the sound of music
A man holds her waist and they dance
His fingers go lower
She swats them away
She walks outside
He finds a new target
A drunk woman kisses her
She pushes her away
She puts her hands in her afro and says
“you are the most beautiful Black girl I have seen”
I brush for fifteen minutes my kitty,
as she growls, wiggles and struggles and swats;
all I want to do is make her pretty,
I just need to get rid of a few knots.
Oh, all that shedding, moulting and hairballs,
she is very angry with me for hours;
I kiss her but no way- away she crawls,
I give her treats so she will not be sour.
But in time she forgives and she forgets,
we snuggle on the sofa together;
sweet joy, I got a knot out- no regrets,
except she bit me hard, oh whatever.
Kitty is silky and soft - an angel,
I love her although it can be painful.
_____________________________
August 27, 2016 (edit)
Poetry/Sonnet/Silky Kitty
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 1084-4010-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Becoming one with this watercolor painting
of butterflies and the sunrise
Stepping out of my bedroom and onto the canvas
Touching baby blue powdered skies
Violet, lilac, orchid majesty
three purple hills across the horizon
And rising just above
Good morning blazing butterscotch sun
Can't believe I'm standing below in the meadow
Emerald grass so thick it cushions bare toes
Dozens of butterflies aflutter, welcoming me in
wings of translucent delicate petals and bows
Breaking out of my cocoon, is like a rebirth
Arms now adorned with sheer taffy hued butterfly wings
They appear to glisten as honey sunrise shines through
I feel so free flying with the other winged things
Below the painting my orange tabby jumps and swats
trying to capture me from these pastel hills and skies
Don't you worry my pet, I'll return to the bedroom soon
But for now I'm at one with butterflies and the sunrise
5/1/16
I brush for fifteen minutes my kitty,
as she growls, wiggles and struggles and swats;
all I want to do is make her pretty,
I just need to get rid of a few knots.
Oh, all that shedding, moulting and hairballs,
she is very angry with me for hours;
I kiss her but no way- away she crawls,
I give her treats so she will not be sour.
But in time she forgives and she forgets,
we snuggle on the sofa together;
sweet joy, I got a knot out- no regrets,
except she bit me hard, oh whatever.
Kitty is silky and soft - an angel,
I love her although it can be painful.
_____________________________
August 27, 2016
Poetry/Sonnet/"Soft and Silky"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-550-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, English Sonnet
First Place
Asylum
Buzzzzzz!!! Buzzzzzzzz!!! Where is that sneaky stinger?
(as he swats away at his imaginary insect)
I know it's here somewhere I can hear him buzzing around
Buzzzzzz!!! Buzzzzzzzz!! See there it is again!
This damn Bee is gonna make me crazy!
(no pun intended)
And where's my lunch? It's egg salad day!
(it's only 6 am and it is tuna day)
I'm tired of the games from these helpers!
Ethel!! We need to fire these bastards now!
Where is my damn lunch?
(Ethel has been dead for 3 years)
Buzzzzz!!! Buzzzzzzz!!! Ohhh well I'll get you Bee!
Ouch! Hey I need some attention here I've just been stung!
I'm allergic to that bee & the stinger was at least 6 inches long!
Help!!! Help!!! Help!!!
(but no help will come)
Damn you miserable bastards! Damn you all!
Where is Ethel she'll take care of this sting...she'll...
(he falls to his knees and begins to weep uncontrollably)
Buzzzz!!! Buzzzzzz!!! Buzzzzzzzz!!! Buzzzzzzzzzzz!!!
(there are no bee's in this padded room only madness)
revised@05/06/17
The customs men shake their heads
and watch the women enter Mexico.
Three with skirts, white socks,
one with jeans
and proper blouse.
Seventeen, eighteen
just out of Concord Academy
in a black Packard Super Clipper,
not quite as big as a hearse.
They buy silver jewelry from the women
and beers and tamales from a man.
Night comes,
they watch the moon large
over the Pacific.
They lay under the Packard on blankets,
staring at it
while a whitehaired man swats away
with a broom handle
two stumbling young men
who get too close to them.
What happened, Mom?
We asked her about then-
The summer of 1949.
Did you meet a boy there?
No, nothing happened,
she said.
Nothing happened.
We went there
and came back.
It was the lull in between,
everything happening.
And then-
Everything happening.
I see it now,
my mother,
the girls,
the moon reflected in their eyes,
the smooth Pacific,
a guitar, a song in the air.
Their moments run through me,
each one,
as though
I had never been born.
" A Sense of Humor ... "
( A Satirical Moral )
(Part 2 of 2)
A Sense of Humor - Gets Us Thru This Life
A Sense of Humor - Gets Us Thru The Night
A Sense of Humor - Gets Us Thru What's Not Right
'Cause A Sense of Humor - Has It's Own Kind of Might
'You've Got A Dry Sense of Humor'
Said The Sweat To The Sock
'You've Got A Sick Sense of Humor'
Said The Disease To The Doc
'It Takes A Good Sense of Humor'
To Shoo The Fly and Take Good Natured Swats
'Cause You Gotta' Have A Sense of Humor'
To Get The Punchline and Not Get Knocked
'You've A Strange Sense of Humor'
Said Some Sinners, Who Think Its Odd
'But YOU've Got A Wonderful Sense of Humor!'
My Beautiful, Brilliant, Happy GOD ...
(1 Tim. 1: 11)
'For, There's A Superb, Sense of Humor'
In Saying That 'Hell Is Hot' ...
'Cause Some Think Its Hilarious-Humor
'To Face The Full Wrath of GOD ... and Mock!'
Written & Copyrighted ©: 1/7/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
'I've Got A Corny Sense of Humor'
But It Won't Make Any Funny-Bones Pop
And My Sister's Droll Sense of Humor
Said, 'Don't Let Your Day Job Drop'
he he ha ha ha LOL