Best The Skinny Poems
so there I was hanging out
between the door jam
in between the
crack and sunlight
hoping to grow like the skinny weed
trying to break free of the concrete
to be better for whoever
or worse
but lost that diamond ring actually now
pushing daisies back up
to the sixth floor window somewhere
between the street below and hell if I know
I had carried that mountain for you
wrapped in a big ole lazy bow
and waded for you in heavy splendor
until that day you came home
carrying that poem
and said that I should
plant my own flowers
because you had found
another rose
When the waves break and
the sky is being torn up
The foam splashed through the air
In the cracks of the rawness of reality
You respect it and think you understand it
forces that surpass every single master
The light from the lantern hit the neck of the rock
Tried to breathe with saline water in the lungs
Soaking in the chest sounds like a old coffee machine
The scream of pain, which crushes stone
in the heavy moment of death
Let Hydra and Kharybdis rest
and clutching at straws
Because the knife felt cold
against the skinny throat
* Hydra ("The Monster of Lerna"), a giant sea monster with nine heads
in Greek mythology
* Kharybdis, a sea monster in Greek mythology
that creates a life-threatening maelstrom
15.09.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Clutching at Straws Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
5th place in the contest
Back in those heavy times when everything was so far out
Our words were but a whisper, the mans were but a shout
Flower power was spreading, and everything was out of sight
Preaching peace through out the days, and gettin our groove on into the night
But we were always gettin hassled, by the fuzz, the man, the pigs
They didn't want us smokin doobies, and flashin peace signs, can ya dig?
Then peace and love had flourished, we needed to get funky and do our thing
We needed a place to get our groove on, so the discos were the scene
The threads we wore back then were styling, some were off the hook!
It's hard to believe with the slim bread we made, we could carry that funky look?
Bellbottoms, platform shoes, and jump suits people were a cravin
Boogieing away the nights in the discos, where the lights were just a blazin
Then the foxy chicks started getting pregoed, and the discos no longer Dyno-mite!
Men needed to start makin more bread, and trying to live the family life
But gigs weren't easy to find, and life became somewhat of a drag
Some of the dudes skipped town, leaving the foxy mamas holding the bag
Well thats the skinny of the seventies, the lowdown of peoples ways
So keep on truckin all you cool cats and foxy mamas
And remember all those ~Freaky, ~Far Out, ~Out Of Sight days
Dan Kearley:1-21-12
That first kiss--De-lish! Smooth like Hagendaaz!
I was in my fourteenth year, too green to see his flaws.
I, the skinny Yankee teen with glasses on her face
met the proverbial "preacher's son" (I doubt in God's good grace).
On the brink of womanhood that summer, still a child,
butter on cob of Iowa corn, I melted when he smiled.
He, my best friend's cousin, was older, fun, and tall,
entrancing me with teasing eyes and sexy southern drawl.
Snuggling in the car's back seat, I got a secret thrill
hearing on the radio, "Won't you marry me, Bill?"
Adolescent daydreams wrapped in tune of "Wedding Bell Blues,"
the music, his accomplice, helped him with his ruse.
The kisses were delightful though my memory now is dim
of the moment when precisely all changed upon his whim.
Unhappily, one balmy Alabama night I learned
the kisses I enjoyed most with him he later spurned.
Soft and playful smooching, I learned while in the South,
would be replaced by lustful tongue that slithered in my mouth!
(how I felt as a young girl anyway; it takes a special guy to pull off "proper"
French kissing AND also the first kind I liked so much!)
"The Price of Pearls"
a strange time
just as a dream
to a place of strangeness
strangers
walking contretemps' fine lines
composing invisible footprints
away from life
into the loud silence within
The Chronicles of The Forgotten
lost in the mists
oars plunging grave tomes in
The Tombs of Sad Poetry
some gently fierce
soft grey broken bad blue sky
reflected in a lake of tears
a sense of haunting
romance to allay
impending fears
acknowledging minds
for a short while
dipping deep within
the short measured
confronting uncomfortable
pools of sincere welcomes some sin
playing the forgotten
heart strings
light sensitive fingers pluck violins
reeling in the pleasure
swoon swimming the skinny time
with cool investiture
the Siren sings
dropping chords
divesting smiles, a serious business
arresting life, love and lust
sensual eyes read his
for good measure
where diaphanous
pages drop like
silken Selkie skin
naked she swims
to shore clutching
a fistful of pearls
wisdom comes
at the price of
freedom
lost in the depths
of drowning
all the ghosts
dead
reborn
in his eyes, they are
Her glistening
new Ocean
now her feet planted on the sure
Now the Lark Ascending
She opens the
locked door
symphonic pleasure
maestro is
leading
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Rachmaninov: "The Isle of the Dead"
Symphonic Poem Op. 29 - Andrew Davis
https://youtu.be/dbbtmskCRUY
Vaughan Williams: "The Lark Ascending"
https://youtu.be/ZR2JlDnT2l8
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selkie
All my life I've been called
-The skinny girl
-You're too thin
-The fragile girl
I was bullied for the size I was born with and can't help fixing it to their perfection
Always getting disgusting looks in their eyes
And the unending questions of - HOW and WHY I'm so skinny
People can be thoughtless of how their words may cut deeper than a knife
Often I'd walked away with stinging pain spreading in my chest while hot tears flowing hastily
I used to wonder if being skinny was so inhuman and was it worth living
I used to believe that being naturally skinny was perfectly ugly
Everyone is trying to feed me
I've tried many styles of massages
I've consumed many local herbals and vitamins prescribed by doctors
I've tried all there is to gain
Yet none has really does anything.
-Because I was born just the way God has create me to His perfection
I was beaten in their criticisms upon my waistline size
I was angry to the world
-But upon realizing how mean people can be
I've changed since and
Love my imperfectly skinny self... (Smile)
Written by Akkina R Downing
11-13-16
The keen necks in the blue eyes
Looking for the pink goal posts
She was six feet tall at the grassy ground
Sketching the angles and lines of the life
Playing in front of her like the young cubs
Beside her the young brown lad
Standing like the cloudless sun
Holding the firm hands of the dreaming girl
With a lot of maps of the hills and plains
Seated on the eye lashes to take shape
Next to him the frayed branches
Of the skinny old birch tree
Busy with the crimson and grey pictures
Left behind in the tales of light and shade
Crowding now in the pale light of the veins
Of brown leaves resting soft on
The shoulders of the child that
Fondles the dog with its eyes closed in joy
Leaving it the child holds the branch tightly
That sparkles in the waves of the moment
The sunshine holds the hands of
Life in the rainbows of time
______________________________________________
March 13, 2018
Seven-Ten - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
"How do you ease yourself?"
An older man once asked me
in a hotel lobby.
A strange thing to ask a teenager.
Later, on the Thames,
Douglas (a celebrated artistic failure),
drunk-kissed me on the lips.
He was sweeter
than the girl, I came aboard with.
The skinny lodger upstairs
dropped his pants in front of me.
He was just lonely.
"How do you ease yourself?"
Asks the cold wind of autumn.
I walk, I write,
I whistle like a kettle sometimes.
Daphne, I love you
in your purple dress
You're my favourite of the gang
to that I must confess
Your blonde friend just makes traps
and the brainy one is nerdy
The canine and the skinny one
eat huge burgers quite insanely
Your role is kind of quirky
but you're prettier than the others
I don't know who to thank for that
perhaps the animators
"The Velvet Touched Feathered Quills of Mysterious Books"
Escape arrives easily
when everything’s ugly
deep diving into the swelling
pursed lips of smooth purring magi
seen naked in the skinny dipped
honeyed pools of pausing poetry
kissing the tongues
of mysterious books
tracing fingers
over their soft
flimsy pages
their velvet touched
feathered quills hooked
removing covers slowly
imprinting new movements
like scoring symphonies
Escape arrives easily
deep diving into the swelling
pursed lips of the smooth purring magi
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Opus Mysticus
Let us enter... and be silent.
My insanity hangs on the wall with all the other Van Goghs.
Sleeping snugly between semen stained sheets
and saliva creased pillow cases.
Inundations and vivid remembrances
of days dead and hours traumatized.
You and the skinny one behind the wheel.
Whistling depressing dirges in D minor.
Your vituperative Mein Kampf of the ages!
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
Young children bathing in the quagmire of Eden.
Bellerophone on Pegasus riding through Hell's Kitchen
in the upper east side.
My problems are but pinned butterflies
quasi-embalmed in glass cases
seeking in futile
the sweet revenge of past indignations.
Where are they now?
The artists of Transcript Necco?
Of Zoot Horn Rollo?
They're down on the dark city streets
off in dark scummy alleys
jamming till the lights go out.
Elucidations.
Proclivities.
Paragons.
Intense disaffections.
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
Adamant mindsets
In a modern setup,
Vibrant visions evaporates
To emptiness, nothingness and waywardness.
Leaving the people in stark darkness,
Leading to nowhere,
As penury is declared "king",
Hunger succeeds the throne
As blind leaders hardened the
Economy like bone.
Giving peanuts to the peasants
But gold for the wealthy,
Oh! what a chess game in the midst
Of blind spectators.....
Mothers swaying in tattered rags,
Struggling with drying breasts which
Produces the hopeful milk of the skinny infants...
Children strolling with empty plates
Searching for who to wet their throats.
Fathers planting courage and assurance,
Hoping the land will be milky someday,
Yet the center is not holding
For heads are plenty but the brains are few...
Therefore turning weakening hearts
To marauding crooks,
Victimizing themselves,
Staining their whites,
Be litling their lives,
Insulting their hands
Making the land stink,
While Africa bears the smell,
To the detriment of her virtue.
Our agricultural and peaceful
"green white green", they've turned to
A dark and bloody "red black red".
Now who leads who in this
Criminal war front, corrupt justice
And indecisive generation?
Things fall apart when truth step aside,
Evil takes the lead when black minds
Score the goal...
Things fall apart when the people can't merge.
MISOGYNY
HE SAID
I AM YOUR BOSS, YOU FOLLOW ME.
little me said, I thought GOD was the boss.
HE SAID I WILL HIT YOU WHEN I THINK YOU DESERVE IT, EVEN IN FRONT OF YOUR CHILDREN! I AM THE ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!!
little me knew that if we said “no,” HE had the capability of crushing them all, like Esther.
so, then, the skinny white girl
with nowhere else to go
said
okay
My son had come back home to stay for just a little while.
He brought with him his terrier friend; a lively, puppy child.
The skinny, little half grown dog came bounding through my door.
I couldn’t realize at the time, all he’d become . . and more.
For sure he tipped the apple cart when first he entered in.
His lively spirit made me think, I’d not know peace again.
The walks with my old terrier dog were all that I could want.
Soon slow and steady, calm, serene, became a grueling jaunt.
Old dog sniffed each bush and tree, as young dog plunged ahead.
While I was pulled this way and that and mostly seeing red.
And God forbid another dog come ambling on our way;
My stress filled walk would soon become, an all out frenzied fray.
He plagued the cats, barked at the door: he loved to sit and howl.
While I just tore my hair out: yet I found that all this while;
He simply grew to grow on me despite his naughty ways.
And as the time began to pass we had some better days.
While in his quiet moments; he just loved my generous lap.
Liked to have his belly rubbed: lay with me for a nap.
He liked to give wet kisses, till I had to tell him, “No."
Loved the car: turned inside out, whenever I said “Go”.
My son moved on, as sons will do, endeavoring to be free.
And by this time we both agreed; young dog should stay with me.
And when old dog forsook my side, because God said he must;
I found the young dog next to me gave all his love and trust.
He stayed beside me night and day and never asked to leave.
He seemed to sense I needed him, along with time to grieve.
I then began to understand what a nice dog lived with me,
For in the old dog’s shadow; he’d become all he could be!
But fate became unkind to us and time was not his friend.
The young dog only stayed awhile, then moved on once again.
And this time I was all alone, with no friend by my side.
My days were filled with missing him, while nights I'd lay and cry.
I know they are together now, in a place God made for them:
These happy creatures sent to earth to be my loyal friends.
I know their spirits run and play; nevermore will they know pain.
Because of this, despite my grief; I’d not wish them back again.
But I’ll remember each of them, through all my days that pass.
It's really hard for me to say, whose loved first and whose loved last?
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.
An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.
Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.
Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.