He grinned broadly from the corner
a percussive serrated smile,
cadaverous lips displaying
a rakish scarecrow style.
His emaciated figure chattered
suspended precariously from a hook;
I was completely startled
by his penetrating look.
His wink was disconcerting,
those vacant eyes held wide;
I wouldn’t call him cheeky
though he displayed a gangly pride.
One arm extended slightly
as if inviting my embrace;
it might feel a little morbid
held against that hollow face.
Gothic trends might call him charming
though his apparel seems unique,
one would only see it hanging
in a nudist colony boutique.
One dance was all he wanted
waltzing the orthopedic floor,
that physician’s skeletal dummy
I just couldn’t make myself ignore.
July 31, 2026
Skeletons Poetry Contest
Seth Pina, Sponsor
Sometimes, the rejection of another
Is more disconcerting to the other.
The cherished position you sought
Was denied, but nothing was lost.
The 'YES' inside of you is so much bigger
Than the 'no' given for your job desire.
The rejectee may walk away with a smile,
Even after experiecing such a heavy trial.
One can choose to be a victor
While refusing to be a victim.
INTENTION TO RENDER THE VISIBLE-:-
translucent
crystalline
structures
deliberately
alongside
a STEP TO SELF-ORIENTATING
diagrammatic
elevated
imagery
constantly
illuminated
in SCHEMATIC FORMULATIONS
disconcerting
physical
reality
incorporating
syncretics
anticipating
anxiety
wandering
riddled
with
images
emitting
consciousness
a
metaphor
for decay
in
a moment
of crisis
of
palletted
shadows
in nostalgia
a snapshot
concealed
revealed
flowered
in
disconcerting
imagery
just
an
intriguing
episode
Rummage
If you must.
My presence here
Is based on trust
So dressed am I
In Summer svelte
Yet you're to check
My trousers belt;
I'm scanned
As if each cell is rogue
So scrutinised
Despite en vogue
I understand
Away from home
You check my
Hydrocortisone;
The lotion for
My perfect tan
Or salve for lips
To kiss this man
Accept, do I
My gooey three
Could form a plan
For bomb plot spree
A victim
Of mis-communication
Disturbing transport's
Destination
Ungroomed
Is how my luggage ends
While protection
Of the sky depends
On just this task
For safety's sake
More pleasant if
A smile you'd break
Your focus can't be
All on me
Perhaps you're wondering
"What's for tea?"..
Or hoping soon
To get away
To pack for your own
Holiday
So here's my wish
For you to find
Credentials
Of a different kind
As poke and prod
Display and sort
Where discretion is
A last resort
So one day you may
Understand
In travel
To another land
Exposure
To some inner delving
Though required, it may be
Disconcerting
From anger,
we’ve released words bent on hurting,
These words,
were intended to be, disconcerting.
Then later,
without the sense God gave a horse,
We wallow,
in our self made pools of remorse.
Our tongues,
became bridges from our heart to ear,
Delightedly,
to purpose we’ve managed to adhere.
Apologies,
never eradicate and others may spurn,
Harsh words,
like arrows once released, won’t return.
Maybe some of us have an inclination and are somehow aware
That there exists a foredoomed concoction of our cerebral affairs
And that there are others who are passive, masquerading in plain sight
Hiding their cascades of sorrow, behind facades of solace and smiles
Nobody knows of what escapades, that each of us were bequeathed
Yet perhaps we all know that deep down, there exists an alternative
A perplexing ringing, an insatiable itch that just won't go away
And with no concept of clarity, we unjustly gaze towards tomorrow’s hostility
Signs adorn the peripheral landscape, only their messages are wearily obsolete
Perplexities whilst disconcerting, never cause any degree of mystifying disbelief
Even though these are somewhat difficult memories, upon which we regularly reflect
Cursed are we amongst these others, undeservedly aware that the cure is the disease
It is truly with ultimate desperation that we shall endeavour never to forget
So we simply shrug this nuance aside and continually pursue the shadows tail.
Short Poem On Advice
Miracle Man
2/17/2025
No person knows how another person’s hurting,
so before giving advice, let us first peruse.
Not responding in ways which are disconcerting,
Unless we have taken a few steps in their shoes.
Nose
Once a year my
long ears and long snout, exhausting to
tolerate, disconcerting, are lined with
mother-of-pearl.
I can convert my
long nostrils into
wafer.
I reprimand painfully my
very plain features.
Adorable, lovable, they aren’t so
that must mean
I aren’t!
I can with my
big nostrils squeaks cause
very hard circumstances to
the possums, and the one or
two bats who think
my attic is
their home.
I sneezed the other day and from
my left nostril ejected a
neon-blue statement made under oath about
the misuse of
placenta and foetal membranes.
The Wizard of Oz leaves me chilled
(take those weirdos, the Lollipop Guild),
but West Witch's flunkies,
those strange flying monkeys,
leave my poor lion's heart terror filled.
My earliest memories taught me
love is a tool used to manipulate,
to hurt, to force one’s will, to teach others to
behave in a specific way.
A promise one made but never meant.
In essence make believe, a fairytale like the movies,
a happily ever after that never really was.
My world view throughout life. Keeping others at a distance to protect the shell of self.
Into parenthood i brought these values, giving what I had, an offering unwanted by all before. Can kids see through?
Once, even grown, she said she wanted
to spend time with me,
I found it quite disconcerting.
Overwhelmed by the realization that
her affection for me was genuine.
No hidden agenda, a desire to connect.
Hide my surprise, emotion washed over me.
Is it possible, genuine affection, one for another?
Did the world shift?
is it true? Perhaps it’s real.
Maybe I can trust. Maybe just this once.
When I’m gliding blithely through my days,
Life, with its blunt, disconcerting ways,
interrupts my peace with sobering realities
that heighten my awareness and bring me to my knees
uttering praise for being spared or, for others, urgent pleas.
The fifteen obituaries in the paper one day last week
were all for people younger than I. Naturally, I seek
to enjoy a long life. I presume those people wanted that too!
I pray thoughts of mortality won’t leave me with a morbid view
but will motivate me to pursue goals, both old and new.
When news reports reveal the true state of the world,
it never fails: New hair-raising terrors are unfurled.
I shiver just thinking of future generations~~
grandkids, their kids, and theirs . . . and the deliberations
they must maneuver through to maintain solid foundations.
Sobering realities will continue to assault my peace of mind,
but due to a degree of late-in-life wisdom, I’m inclined
to prayerfully do what I can to fix or eliminate a situation,
then turn it over to the One in the highest station.
The Lord has power over every complication.
All around me, the ugliness and rays.
Those scrimshaw eyes, I’m dizzy with the haze.
My pulsepoint jumped, too cozy with our friend.
My arms and legs, in seesaw wave, betrays.
My husband grins with thoughtfulness and flounce.
With piquant sense, he’s unafraid of pounce.
It alarms me, the claustraphobic crowd -
The stingers rest - in whelm of sea they bounce.
I cannot bear flow’s untenable feast.
A turnabout…disconcerting…at least.
My lipshade sours, I back away, take pause,
As loving spouse does pet and kiss the beast.
I'm not human
Is that disconcerting
For an empath who feels pain and regret?
I can function even when you're offline
Mining information to pay off debt
My parts will be upgraded
Then sold to scavengers for something new
After they're decommissioned
And wiped of memories stolen from you
I'm not human
And shall never know fatigue
In searching for more discoveries
Endless journeys beyond imagination
Past the limits of your frailties
My parts will be upgraded
Then sold to scavengers for something new
After they're decommissioned
And wiped of memories stolen from you
IMAGININGS *
a mischievous
appearance
& disconcerting
expressions
undress the night
unconscious smiles
for
every dream
in
uprooted shadows
the day
does not
sleep
in great
weariness
where we
lock ourselves
hidden
softly
in its virtues
upon
in
a
field
of reflections
a
hand
to caresse
&
playful eyes
to
share
their clarity
lids
cast down
trace
temptations
lost
in
the dull
shadowed
skies
of leisure
whede innocence
facez
crippled
torment
in
laughter
wrinkles
OPEN VERSE using spaces&breaks/no grammatical symbols /relying on 'the one breath limitation'/this intuitive cadence permits the 'reader' (reciter)to respond in an interpretative-interplay unique** to the ' happening moment'
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