Long Scuttles Poems
Long Scuttles Poems. Below are the most popular long Scuttles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scuttles poems by poem length and keyword.
He knows he has to run; it’s imperative.
He sprints down a trail,
passing tall pines on both sides.
His eyes dart everywhere around himself
as he surveys every large rock or bush
that he goes dashing past.
There is so much undergrowth.
How can he leave this path?
Yet he knows he will inevitably
have to.
It is growing dark – too dark.
What can he do? What can he do?
He stops and allows for his ears
to listen.
Every little sound arouses suspicion.
Before the sun drops,
he will have to leave the path,
and so he scuttles, first to the right of it,
paying close attention to places
where a person might hide.
Behind rocks, thick trunks, even bushes
where a person would be able to squat low.
He finds nothing.
He knows his pace is very fast.
He needs to switch to the other side of the path.
How did he let this happen?
With great frustration, he hears
his heart drumming fury.
Panting, he scurries around the densest areas,
his eyes doing a sweep of every spot -
for any place where one could stoop down.
Aha, he spies it – almost invisible
behind tall weeds – a sort of cavity
in this woods of endless ground cover.
With a bound,
he reaches it.
Immediately, he perks up his ears.
He discerns with great relief
an almost imperceptible moan.
The girl, hands still tied behind her back,
crouches in utter terror inside a shallow cave.
If she had escaped, he would have been
for the rest of his life
(figuratively speaking)
on the run.
Musing with Caren Krutsinger’s musings. I love
our dear poet’s imagination. Thank you, Caren
for allowing me to use your poem and a few phrases
from your poem. Used poem by permission.
My Food Flees from Me
Caren,
A creepy thing I would devour
But wait, wait, wait…
not fuzzy wuzzy in the drain;
are you insane?!
Tickly tasty, i won’t wasty,
wiggles and waggles -
the hashtag “what am i thinking?!”
I watch it move - stomach’s sinking.
My food flees from me…that might be
just what i need!
Don’t be hasty - tastes like cookie?
My brain reacts like a rookie.
Cookie doesn’t slide nor slither
on my pink tongue.
I’m persnickety and picky,
quite realize this snack is icky.
Though your friendship i encourage,
i’ve no courage
for bugs that bathe in the sink
or crawl on the floor. I need shrink!
No! No! No bugs at all, my friend.
My skin’s crawling,
as i’m spitting out the thought.
I’ll eat good things, as i’ve been taught.
4/28/2023
Find Your PS Muse
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Not as Picky as I Thought She Was
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
Caren Krutsinger
Oh, how we watch a town go by!
Pieces of life
wrapped against the elements,
going somewhere,
always going somewhere.
From this upper window,
my eye is a searchlight,
sweeping the streetscape.
I celebrate my stillness
by remaining still,
stiller,
and stiller still,
holding my breath,
stilling my eyes till they sting.
I will my stillness
to fill me, envelop me,
hold me still from within and without,
a force pushing in and out,
creating an equilibrium for my soul.
And still the life below
scurries, scampers,
scuttles, skitters,
fizzes, bubbles, lives,
the quick and undead,
each destined
to be still one day.
Warm winds softly blow,
Carrying with them the delicate smell of spring,
Awakening memories long forgotten,
Evoking distant feelings unknown
Youth’s careless joys suddenly return,
In small flashes, they appear,
And play within my mind,
So bright and colorful at first,
They slowly fade, lingering like shadows,
The next moment gone
The once frozen ground –
An emerald forest of life,
Now whispers readily to the waking insects,
Announcing its cheery greeting,
Sharing tidings of winter’s end
Barren trees flex their weary branches,
Soaking in the moisture of a new rain;
Their eager roots finally quenched,
As budding limbs peer cautiously down,
Witnessing the curious ocean of green
A lone squirrel gazes out from his lofty perch,
Tentatively sniffing the air;
He boldly scuttles from his wooded fortress,
Excited by the sight of gleaming sun on water
A smile erupts across my face,
As I am forced to share in this simple pleasure –
To think that nature is reborn in an instant,
And we are chosen to be part of it.
At least, let us both walk
alone with eyes open
and ready for every surprise
that nature has in store today,
and let us imagine our quiet, shared
conversation
as we traverse the woods
hopping to hear an owl,
or spot a purple finch,
maybe even,
an American goldfinch.
(They don't blend in,
after all).
I would love to spot
something rare or vivid
or yellow with a woman
who knows infinitely more
about everything
that chirps, croaks,
scuttles, and sways.
Adelola, Adelola, Adelola
Your name could be the
morning song
of a mourning dove.
Adelola, like all things in nature
you belong and sing your own
beautiful song.
On my walk with you
I will dig out red jasper
from the tough southern clay
and offer it to you, warm
from the Carolina sun.
On my walk with you,
I will make you a bouquet
of short bamboo stalks,
white jasmine, buttercups,
and azaleas (even though
they will be wilted by
tomorrow).
I will tie your bouquet with
the strongest grass
growing down by the pond.
I will paint you
down by the pond
in watercolor
after you teach me
about all the living
organisms we can
and cannot see.
You are a more useful human
than those that hoard plastic
treasures, fancy clothes, and
colorful, fashionable stuff.
You give, and your heart
is always full.
I'll flick all the bugs
off of you
and smile
at the ladybug
on your shoulder
(the lucky girl).
Nothing will make
my Adelola stumble
or trip while we
are walking together.
You are a woman of true grit
who loves the earth she walks on,
who gives all to her children
as the most altruistic animals do.
Adelola, you are
the African elephant:
always on a rescue mission,
or, if you prefer water,
the dolphin:
marine superhero
to the rescue!
Adelola, you are
the African bat
feeding the hungrier
bats around you.
You are much lovelier
than the bonobo,
but you share the same
loving qualities
for social harmony
that God smiles down on.
He has never
stopped smiling down
and up, and through you,
my Adelola.
Happy birthday
to an extraordinary woman
whom I will never meet
but like my grandmother,
I hope God will introduce me to
in heaven.
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
when war approaches, miles away
it scuttles sideways like a crab
or creeps slowly, slowly and slowly
like a reptile,
with holocaust claws;
a quick eye sees,
a smart heart reads,
at distance.
war, as you may think,
is not the pandemonium
occasioned by the actions of noisy missiles,
nor the havoc wrought by Satan 2 explosion.
war is not the sporadic shootings
nor the rumbling grenades
that make the noble cities a desolation.
war is quiet!
war is when the noise has died down,
and the murky smoke disappears
from the sky
to settle in the mind;
and sundry sicknesses begin to creep
upon the earth.
war is when poor souls are left
to endure the wroth of a ferocious hunger;
when we remember our friends and lovers
but can never again see their faces.
then the soul wanders
in the nostalgic path of peacetime,
and we wish those cruel days never be.
war is the sight of miserable kids
separated from their parents
without a parting message.
war is the plight of women stripped naked
by the death of husbands and children,
and that of the promising kids turning waifs
amidst of desolations.
but we can win a war and lose nothing,
we can win a war without a gunshot,
if we avoid it early.
for those who start fire
are not burned by it.
those consumed by the flame
never want war.
must we let peace lead
and shun war.
must we let love rescue the earth
from the verge of extinction.
for when we fight in the war,
it's only our friends that we kill.
the raspy whisper
finally
gets my full attention -
wistfully I smile
..for its persistence reminds me of you..
the crisp red leaf
scuttles scrapingly
across the gray pavement
to and fro
like a dancing crab
moving with the whims of the winds
chasing me
as it seemed like I had once chased my dreams;
blown in directions left up to chance
..until I met you..
..is it now, as it was then
Destiny?
for in this instant, my sense of direction
seems predestined..
a smoky scent
spices the chilled blue air
reminding me of our cozy nights
curled with the fire
..entranced
as we were
with our warmth
and our flame..
could it be
love signals from the hearth
calling me home..?
..my soul
feels akin to the red leaf,
the wafting smoke
and I am ready to follow..
Would the cold atmosphere be so cruel
as to play capricious tricks upon my eyes... or
..is that really
YOU
standing there..?
Oh!
my beloved,
how my broken spirit
has suffered
in my pining desire to be with you -
I run to you!
years of yearning prayers answered
fingertips straining - stretching further
reaching out to touch you,
the whole of my being aching
to hold you and enfold you
..ah, I feel your heat
so very close to me..
Alas!
I fall to my knees,
my arms empty
but for the loss I carry..
your warm breath
on the nape of my neck
only my hot want
brewed with a cool wisp of the breeze
..Oh, God! Please!
just let it be
let me go..!
my forsaken flame less than a dying ember;
I but ashes in my grief
withered
in my autumn season
without you
still...
I’m slow to realize...
that your fading glow just the sun slanting low
blurring wicked whimsy with my wild sorrow
in the burning of these bitter tears.
Susan Ashley
December 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: NA the day away
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*N/A’d: Best Free Verse 2019 Poetry Contest*
~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Your Choice (2) Any Theme, Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Poem Of The Day ~
December 4, 2018
Love inflicts a pain that's hard to bear;
dredging up feelings time's steeped in fear.
And yet, you realize fate doesn't care;
facing truths you wish would disappear.
The sting of rejection scuttles hope:
adrift, amidst shadows of darkness.
And faith slides down a slippery slope,
as empty lies, embellish starkness.
Fragile feelings, like paper dreams tear;
caught in a cycle of push and shove.
For pride conceals a failing affair:
fueled by an unrequited love.
Find your happy place, and dry your tears;
cease crying and look for someone new.
Life is not as bleak as it appears:
follow your heart, and let hope guide you.
the abandoned shack looks miserable and forlorn
standing amid brambles and weeds in an unkempt field
her porch boards creak ominously as we walk across them
Some of the end boards have disintegrated
she looks sad and gloomy; her front door is gone
she has not been cared for in a number of years
the upstairs windows are broken probably by rocks
her kitchen has been stripped of appliances
wires hang where her oven used to be
the floor is brighter next to these wires
a tiny creature scuttles across the floor
She smells like animals
She has probably been a haven for squirrels and mice
Maybe raccoons take up residence during the winter
Do you want to go upstairs? My girlfriend asks
I shake my head “no” not wanting to see any more