Best Swiping Poems
There is a very trendy Smoothie Bar down town
Called ‘FruitiBaTuti’ but known to all as FBT
Where a colourful bunch of close friends work
All happy, hardworking and dedicated to their duty
FBT is a busy hip and happening place
Daily, customers line out the door
Waiting for smoothies considered supreme
Like they have never experienced before
Paul Passionfruit is the owner of FBT
A fair and fun boss
FBT is his love and passion
His staff have never seen him cross
FBT’S manager is Annie Apple
A fresh faced ,crisp, sweet girl
Until she starts drinking cider
Then her inner party girl unfurls
Second in charge is Freddie Fig
A charismatic ,charming lad
So chillaxed that he doesnt give a fig
When FBT gets crazy busy mad
Louie Lemon is a member of staff
He is known for being quite sour
Yet when working at FBT
He is a honey and often the man of the hour
Grapes is another sweet member of the team
Who is kind and cares a whole bunch
He likes to party with Annie Apple
Drinking way too much wine when it comes to the crunch
Mango is a popular staff member
Pretty ,happy , her heart aglow
Regularly with a new boyfriend in tow
As she keeps letting her man-go
Pineapple is the newest member of staff
She is keen to learn though at times a little unsure
Her big dream is to eventually be ‘just an apple’
She pines to possess the apple allure
Dates is the Casanova of the staff
Often on dating apps swiping left or right
Looking for the perfect, soft ,luscious woman
Though he secretly has Mango in his sight
Peter Pomegranate is the joker of the team
Funny , forever making everyone laugh
He comes from a little village in England
Nicknamed Pommie by both customers and staff
Strawberry, Blueberry and Raspberry are sisters
They are the casual and relief staff at FBT
Sweet, bright and accomodating
Each sister is berry, berry special indeed
Cool music is played at FBT
With conversation and laughter abound
The vibe and ambience is upbeat and lively
Come down, meet the staff, have a smoothie and enjoy the surrounds!
Who ate the last slice?
I don't hear no confession
Who scarfed the last slice down?
Everyone seems to have a finger pointing obsession
Don't know why we have house rules,
when no one pays them no mind
He who calls last slice first,
is supposed to have their belly rewarded
whenever they feel so inclined
Around here, a person can't even take a bathroom break,
without somebody swiping the last slice off the tray
That's just wrong,
that's not fair
I even bought the two pizzas,
but I can see nobody cares
I wish I could tell who did it
by looking into their eyes
And none of youse are even trying
to give me any elaborate lies
The wife is in the bedroom,
hiding her head under the pillows
The three kids are aimlessly
bobbing around like zombie marshmallows
I guess it's just me and the dog
left to take up the lost cause
Hey, wait a minute ... now don't tell me ---
is that pizza sauce I see all over your paws!
Written: April 17, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "Lovely days don't come to you, you should walk to them." by Rumi
***********************
Life will not coach you until it happens,
Serendipitously, it flows, upsetting our souls.
When you glance, you feel no longer whole,
Leave dreams behind until the frost blackens.
Love doesn't always reach out to stay,
It often teaches you how deeply you feel.
It seems like it's just dangling a kneel,
as if it were writing you a swiping essay.
Being whole does not teach you resilience,
You discover it when you're crushed by life.
You proceed with wobbly hands and strife,
Grace is born by shaking, not just experience.
I went for a walk through the woods, like I do each Fall;
for it's a sensual treat at this time of year.
And I came across a grove of ancient oak trees,
shedding amber, yellow, and golden leaves;
gilding the ground, like scattered nuggets of gold.
The air smelt of Autumn, an earthy-sweet musk;
cool, crisp, and invigorating.
A chattering chipmunk scolded me incessantly:
as I neared a knurled stump, it was guarding;
loudly chastising me for invading its space.
The ground crunched and crackled under my feet,
as I walked on a bedding of filigreed leaves;
resembling a golden fleece.
As brisk breezes rippled through swaying treetops:
their bare branches rattled like skeleton bones.
Indulging my inner child, I fashioned an Autumn Angel;
spreading and swiping my arms and legs,
I sculpted an Angel out of leaves instead of snow.
And I lay there awhile smiling, soaking in Nature's magnificence;
immersed in the grandeur and beauty of Fall.
As I walk the barren desert
With a small flower in my hand
Leaving my footprints in the sand
Swiping them, to erase the hurt
I think of your smile miles away
Soft kisses shared in the cool shade
All of our headway we have made
There is so much I have to say
But, under desert skies so blue
With heart shaped clouds floating by
One teardrop falls from my eye
Because, these arms long to hold you
9/25/19
Placed 4th in the Pick a title, Vol. 9. Enclosed Rhyme.
Title #2 These Arms Long to Hold You
The world has turned angry.
Families have been replaced with technology.
Swiping and dinging has replaced listening and learning.
Drivers are enraged; impatient, unkind.
They plow over each other, like angry puppies
Because they must wait their turn.
Instant gratification has become the go-to now.
We want it immediately – information, food, attention.
The world has turned angry. The families are gone.
Technology has replaced love and kindness.
People spend more time in cars driving frantically
Than they spend in homes.
No one is listening to our children.
They sit in front of a tablet poking buttons
Wishing someone cared.
The world is sad.
The garbage men are the first to be heard,
beeping, bumping, throwing, thumping.
The work of their hands
leave nothing but empty cans
scattered on the curb.
Children rise and run late
heavily backpacked.
The crossing guard blows her whistle
and scurries them inside white lines
with their weight that nearly bends them back.
Day drives on to sun blast.
Trains shake overhead.
So many different tongues rise from sidewalks
up subway stairs
through turnstile gates
that sing to every swiping hand.
It’s not even eight
and I’ve heard enough for a day.
I plug my ears with song from a different sphere.
My city doesn’t make a sound
that I can hear.
June 19, 2016
for Sounds of the Day - Poetry Contest
"Vibrationary Roadkill High Beam "
You look at a screen,
it’s like you’re driving
you know, full speed,
there you are planted
firmly
behind the wheel,
the windscreen wipers
are swiping bugs and crap
off the page and there
for once in your life,
you focus
full beam on
driving down a dark road
praying the ghouls, like deer,
will wander out into the
middle of it all;
you just know,
without hesitation,
instead of hitting the breaks
you’ll bust the story
slick,
like a
hardened ice puckey
slides to hell,
deliverance slides
into slippery gear...
written into the scene
the f-team flounder
clustering into full view
like a dream,
you move
your best hand in
an upward motion
shifting towards 5th gear
you press
the exalerator
like some Revelator
foot to the floor
lights on
all the way up
up high beam
messages of the driven
what’s written
and it’s
so very
cool
in the shade,
you ride the bumps,
like hiccups
you eventually stop,
you alight, get out
and close
the door.
you stand
for what you’re worth,
you walk the walk
forward
talking the talk
to yourself,
you don’t
look back
you think,
you feel,
and then you say
to what’s gone before,
9. 9. 9.
9 to reversing
9 to rehearsing
9 to bugs on a screen
vibrationary roadkill high beam
you're all
4
je t’adore.
Revelations.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
The tumultuous whirlwinds had now ceased
The roaring, nettlesome sounds have dried away
The tide is now silent
The clatters and jangles,
now dead, they are.
Far and wide, the drumming sounds, ululations...
For the happiness, peace and calamity, found again
All is being born again.
The sky is blue
The dark-dark, huge, cumbersome and petrifying clouds
Have faded away
And now, white clouds are to be seen hither and thither
In the blue sky-scape, congregating
For the new rain of the new
the new downpour of joy and peace of nature.
With my hands,
I rubbed away the hot tears, at last
With a smile, i looked out
The thudding of my heart, had stopped, but gone
Relieved i felt, for the tempests, had flied away
I yawned, stretching my arms
Bad times, had reached their edges
At last.
The birds fluttered and warbled
Their sounds anew
Tickling my fancy
The swiping of the trees
buzzed with the cool breeze
and then, the sun showed up
with new lively alight, and
with the moon
they all smiled cutely.
All got in full swing
For the peace, and happiness had at last been restored
I danced along with the birds, soft wind and the trees
Dancing, to their tune
And with all the peace and happiness
Smiled back to the jolly sun and the moon.
Cat-as-trophe
A purrrfect little kitten became a purrrfect cat,
With milk all round her whiskers and cobwebs as her hat.
She rubs against your jumper, just to say hello,
And leaves behind a hairy mess on you and your best throw.
Excitedly she’ll spring up high, swiping at a fly,
Just missing your best teacup as Bonnie whizzes by;
Finally she comes to rest upon the kitchen door,
Safely out of reach of baby rug rat on the floor.
For hours she’ll sleep upon the door, her paws flopped either side,
Oblivious to all that’s past, ‘since the time she closed her eyes.
She didn’t hear the doorbell or greet your guests with glee,
She didn’t even notice when the rug rat ate his tea.
With babe asleep and food prepared you turn to make a cuppa,
Unaware that as you do, well, Bonnie’s pinched your supper.
Like a bolt of lightning she flashed across your plate,
Clearing it in one foul swoop then leaving in disgrace.
She looks so sweet, you can’t be cross even if you tried,
It’s funny just to watch her try to get her prize outside.
Unable to negotiate the cat flap in the door,
She drags her ill begotten gains beneath your chest of drawers.
It isn’t long before a dreadful smell wafts in the air,
Bonnie’s proudly spraying all your furniture with flare;
Angrily you lift the cat to take her straight outside -
But as you do you realise that Bonnie’s really Clyde.
THE SURGE
You came like as expected
Winds furiously shaking the ground
Rain unstoppable continuous to pound.
As hours passed, your fierce marks the town
water increases up to its heights but still
you never stop swiping every corner, left nothing to spill.
Scampering, they're trying to lope your ailing temper
Mother and child crying for help but your sound is a tearful killer
parent's cuddled the youngsters, but too strong your foulest curse.
It's not your intention to harm 'cause you're just a phenomenal mishap,
but for those you visited, you're the great destroyer
A mischievous, dangerous thief that left nothing even their foyer.
THE AFTERMATH
Scattered bricks, fallen debris, lifeless bodies on the sidewalk
Mournful view, so sickening to the eyes
You've taken out their lives, now all that is left are frozen as ice.
The beautiful city turns to abandoned graveyard
At night seems haunted, deadly ravage
at daylight you hear the silent echoing in the rampage.
Deaths are still unnumbered, missing still increasing
They who outlive cries for shelter, food for their needing.
Never deter, frustrated mind, weary hearts.
>> the typhoon Haiyan (local name:YOLANDA) hits Tacloban City, Philippines in the 8th of November 2013
3.28 parsec out
We’re making an impromptu flight change
Windstar is gonna have to make
a low-grav burn and turn
towards the Big Rocky asteroid belt border
It’s a risky nav maneuver for sure,
but every space outlaw has faced that situation before
We got pesky corporate police on our tail,
time to power down, run silent on dual trilitium cells
Pai-du Jerah
I’m the drawn short-straw captain of this motley crew,
they respect me with a razor edge
I’ve sacrificed my life a time or two for them,
I get the necessary begrudge ... but no flak,
when I tell them what we gotta do
My number one right hand is a woman
I wouldn’t look too hard at her, pal,
if you know what’s best for your health
Vydrikia, she’s a long purple-haired, gen-eng vixen,
with tripwire anger issues
She smiles dismissively at me,
as she unstraps her NB (nuke blast) pulse gun
Says the next time I mess with her,
she just might not have it set on stun
I know the crew is prickly raw, that they want a little r & r ...
but we’ve got an interstellar new gov hush-hush delivery to make
And this nasty job, we gotta see it through —
if we wanna get paid that five zil Galaxian credit
Don’t wanna hear none of that mission impossible talk
Our motto is:
Evade or pear starjuice cajole
Be prepared for any planetary orbital patrol
We’re space outlaws
When we drop out of hyperspace —
whatever you do,
vigilante solar citizens ...
don’t get in our way!
That’s one reward that ain’t worth dying for
We wear both hats;
sometimes we’re the good guys,
sometimes we’re on the other side
It depends on what the pay is,
depends on what the fight is too
Some say we ain’t nothing but paid mercs
When swiping the untraceable credit disk,
we love giving the mean smirks
We can be your best friend,
we can be your worst enemy
But oft times, we’re in the middle somewhere
Space outlaws don’t much care
A single tear swerved the curve of cheek
dragging mascara behind like sorrow lingers
and heavy breath exhales
as if they cost too much
she scrawls out words with
ferocity and intent
weaving their magic to strangle his hold
to lift the weight…
to run while charging
and dive while flying away.
My lonely writer
I do not know you
beside that I am you
on the other side of hurting walls
where your pen moves fast to relieve,
mine mirrors the intensity and speed
Yet we do not see
the kindred hearts peripherally
tasked to bask in yesterday’s misery
The run/chase mode is a game
played by both sexes equally
We want that which confounds,
as bitter taste and painful rejection
are morphine to love amputees
as we flail out bandaged nubs,
gauze flapping, to the site of
careless silouettes dispersing.
....and now your writing baby
occasionally swiping a curl from your eyes
gulping wine that was for sipping, not sedating
encapsulating emotions between stanzas
capturing the empathy of those
who long to purge the feel
of unwanted
I make my elixir bourbon
much like you, to dim the blue
but my veteran ache demands 100 proof…
still I’m writing of lovers lost.
uncaring women in fading photos
only visible in the untwinkle in my eye.
Are the lonely souls tripped up
in sad bastard heart strings
doomed to only love the unaffected?
The obsession with making
the passion spread to an unexpressive other half
is what drives us mad
eventually calousing the affection quotient…
until we all thrive on blissful days passed by
and swearing all ahead are lost.
ghosts who chase the living dead
longing to splash in their shallow puddles.
-another older poem re-posting -sorry!
Dark winds blow in an unwept hollow
Parting the dreary pathway to my abode
A syringe of chills inject my quivering pores,
A lifeless shutter—the single life near to alone
The space between waiting for the inevitable pull of tears,
The feeling of my hair swiping about my face,
Relieves me little from the breeze of whispering disgrace,
As light slowly begins to dim away
I feel the ache of the chill freeze my veins,
Because I remember…just how happy they were
I see the warmth and smile of every face
I see even her—dimming as the light fades
Another shutter brings me to hysterics, stammering at the sky,
Cursing the past—an alien-crazed lullaby
Words fall in an abyss of stillness
Never arising but arousing every inner bitter
A once sunny resemblance of wing-shaped hope
Is but a shattered illusion of fate
The brink of autumn mutters reveries
As fragments of summer and spring descend
A flock of mirrored leaves—dry as death’s gaping mouth
And colder than the stranger’s heart
My arms outstretched—my tears aloof
Eyes glued to the skies—where the treetops glower
As the brown and tomb-stoned leaves began to shower
One little leaf is suddenly seen within a gleam
As the remaining sun droops its eyes in a pensive doze
The wind allows those leaves to soar—only for a moment, till they drop
My eyes remain glued to that gleam before me
That one little leaf falls like all of the others
But it is strange how it floats and sinks
Lightly—charmingly—differently…
Though lifeless, cold…and dead
Life forfeited, Law transgressed
Clear morn in which to go hunting today
Indian prepared , went with no long delay
Family of four was hungry with no food
he setting forth in a very anxious mood
Deep into the thickened woods he raced
seeking tracks before the wind erased
Venison was what he desperately sought
his traps were empty with nothing caught!
He was on his favorite hunting trail
thoughts of how he simply must not fail
A deer he across the way did soon spot
carefully he drew his arrow for a shot
Silently and quickly he took his aim
food, precious meat, this wild game
Raised bow with a very quick release
a clear miss, to his awestruck disbelief!
So angry about missing his only shot
no meat today in the empty family pot
Around the next bend he soon did meet
a wolf's rocky den at his weary feet
Peering into that den he clearly saw
a brown movement, a quick swiping paw
Next seeing two pups were quite dead
the last one big and clearly well fed!
The hunter mad in deep and saddened rage
the Great Spirit he offended and enraged
As he took hatchet to kill one lone wolf pup
he emptied mercy from his own sweet cup
Returning wolf pack came before he got away
circled the hunter in every escape pathway
Jaws wide with sharp teeth and wicked stares
the wolfs charged rapidly forward in pairs!
Swiftly biting as the hunter tried in vain
to knock each biting wolf off again and again
The wolf pack had its victim on the ground
right there his mangled body was later found
Indian hunter had transgressed Nature's law
killing a helpless wolf pup sealed his great fall
Mercy and hope had been righteously withdrawn
life forfeited , he never faced another dawn!
Robert Lindley , 06/26/1983
Found this in my second small journal , hidden
under a box of short stories I wrote back then.
Seems on the last few pages I wrote three poems.
This one was finished, the other two look to be
very close to being finished ...
I guess I could list this as a narrative or a rhyme.
Chose not to edit it any way because I signed it
and thus deemed it finished back then..