Long Spiny Poems
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He painted the ocean
in fifty shades of green and blue
with his mighty paintbrush of perfection!
He sculpted a garden of coral reefs
and barrier reefs for us to see
with his powerful chisel of praise!
He sketched the outlines
of slithering bonefish and Nassau Groupers,
and sneaky Spiny Lobsters and humpback whales
with his graphite pencil of glory!
He shaded the colors of gliding dolphins
drifting sea lions and green turtles
and soaring stingrays
with his pastel sticks of righteousness!
He crafted a collage
of magical starfish, sand dollars, seahorses
conch shells, oysters, clams and seaweed
with his scissors, glue
and construction paper of greatness!
“Is you a girl or is you a boy”, she said to him one day.
“Come over here an' stay wit' me,” he said, “You'll find out when we play!”
“No I will not play wit' you, I do not play wit' boys.
I do not like 'deir dirty face, I do not like 'deir toys!”
“I have no toys as you kin' see, my face is fresh and clean.
Come over here an' play wit' me, try not to be so mean.”
“I am not mean I'm cautious of you looking for your kicks.
I know you boys wit' out no toys make gurls do naughty tricks!”
“But wait, I do have toys,” he yelled as she turned to walk away.
“My toys are in my pocket, come here so we kin' play.”
“Your pockets are all empty, as I kin' plainly see.
So keep your fat mout' shut and 'dem big eyes offa' me!”
“Wait, wait, wait please play wit' me, we'll have a lot a fun.
I got a bat an ball wit' me, why do you have to run!”
“'Dat bat ain't made to hit 'dat ball, you can't play no game with 'dose.
Besides I'm not suppose ta' have no fun, I'll ruin my new clothes.”
“I wanna' be your friend ya' know, let's just sit an' talk.
Here put 'dis flower in your hair an maybe we kin' walk.”
“I'll take dat' walk if we just talk an' you look straight ahead,
An' if you try to play wit' me I'll bust you in yer' head.”
“Here have another flower, maybe 'dat will make you grin,
walkin' in da' moonlight, it ain't no kinda' sin.”
“I is afraid of moonlight, could ya' please hold my tremblin' hand.
Just be sure to keep in mind I ain't yer' promise land.”
“Your hand feels soft an' warm to me, it feels so heavenly.
I wish 'dat we could sit and talk, beneath 'dat chestnut tree.”
“'Dat tree is full of spiny nuts, the ground is covered wit' dew.
If we sit 'dare I'll pinch my buns and ruin my tutu.”
“'Dat tutu is such a little thing, here put it in my sack,
I got a big ole' blanket in 'dare, let's spread it out and yak.”
“Okay, but please remember I'm just a innocent tease,
I do not know about 'dose birds, I never seen no bees.”
“Thank you for remindin' me, I knew 'dat from the start.
I only wanted you to see my tacky wacky heart.”
“I'm really likin' you boyfriend, I'll stay wit' you a while,
Mom an' dad won't ever know, so now jus' make me smile.”
written April 29, 2016
A blithe jaunt through the fawning meadow
Cerebral dance an eloping trance doth swallow
Glinting sun shrouds head with cherubic halo
Swirling amber blades my shorn ankles furrow
Mercurial melange of colorful flowers footsteps shadow
Chortling wind serenades through lisping willow
A chorus of song birds the woody fringes mellow
Suddenly, from green coiffed strands into barren fields
fallow
Bristling thorns, spiny thistles each footstep doth
harrow
Melodic aviary morphs into a shrieking cacophonous
bellow
Soothing breeze warps; its shrill noose exposed neck
gallows
Day's enchanting dream a recurring nightmare doth
follow
Enraptured circuits fade into shrunken recesses of
bleary hollow
Gilded streams of light a dark, vapid hole doth borrow
The enameled threads of nature my tortured conscience
doth sallow
The antediluvian dreamscape a charade to shield
tomorrows
The apocalyptic horror scope to sculpt past sorrows
September 24, 2012
Balmy summer air to southern climes doth repair
On horizon, blue azure panels shaded with smoky tincture
Silky, white fondue relpaced by pallid, silver hue
Fondling, summer breezes; gripping, autumnal wind freezes
Cooling waves react with fertile leaves; amber gown doth
retract
Nutrient-rich chlorophyll doth spill and sugary saps rill
Anon, doth ween a bright, colorful sheen
Golden crescents and cherry strobes with lobes iridescent
Rounded discs on Global Willow in creamy glaze mellow
Spiny-toothed, Red Oak leaves flossed with reddish-
green gloss
Sugar Maple stars bathed in a bright pumpkin lathe
Ovular Blue Beech blades are brushed with a brackish rust
Veins of Aspen heart umbrella bleed bright yellow
Pentagram lobes of Sweet Gum gilded with purple robes
After scintillating charade, garnished blades began to
fade
Leaves' life-giving juices the stout bough refuses
Nutritious store salvaging trunk doth score
The regal, shimmering gown now shriveling crown
A duller shade of brown on the crumpled folds redound
Last gasp, its withering anchor doth cast
Descending from mercurial splendor to mother natures
blender
August 21, 2012
(Earth's creation to the end of the last Ice Age)
© 2008 (Jim Sularz)
Sun’s first rise over life-less skies, the earth cools, and the waters pool -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And the planet’s broken plates quake and move.
Lightning strikes, the waters stir, and the bonds of life begin to churn -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And the waters swirl in a living urn.
Strange aquatic things, they all evolve, some spiny finned, start to crawl -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And they slowly stretch erect and tall.
Eons pass where the cunning reign, a savage place, with small sized brains -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And the dead surrender their twisted remains.
An asteroid streaks from the sky, blocks out the sun, cause most to die -
the Sun burns East to West.
And all in the blink of Time’s eye.
Footprints in stone, some on mountainsides, make it clear that rocks don’t lie -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And the fossils always tell the time.
Eons pass and eons more, the fittest evolves, and man is born -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And the early brain, once fast asleep, begins to dream and mourn.
The first million years, man lives in fear, learns to hunt, invents the spear -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And migrates to claim the vast frontiers.
Tools from stone and controlled fire, creates language, that shake man’s empire -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And splash cave paintings with human inspire.
Life-times of hunter-gathering, and story-telling in the dark -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And a world spins with a million hearts.
The Earth starts to warm, the oceans rise, and the waters shape the lands -
the Sun Burns East to West.
And when an Ice Age ends, then comes, the Age of Man.
Hedgehog, O hedgehog
dear spiny, meek and mousy poppet.
In England
where the tickly grass grows
greener
we galumph in our rubber boots
up to your little
Hobbit nests
beneath the thorny bushes
were you rests.
We the ever scampy
nippers
fill tin cups with wriggly worms
leave then there
by your dinky
mossy dells.
All the pricky hogs
come from near and nearer,
to snuff and gobble
by the brittle briery
and eat their wormy mush.
Our mucky paws clap
in gay and giggly glee
to see that munchy feast,
their piddly
licky
muzzles
chomping -
quite charming.
Adults say, 'we will catch a flea'
from their pin pointy pelts.
yet we shrug
our never minds, and
our don't cares,
even bring
one tiddly tyke home,
smuggling it up the stairs
to coddle
while we playtime
with some jolly good
fun....
PASSION FLOWER
On thorny stem scarlet red rose to smile
in its specific charismatic style
as precious gem to allure.
When tempted to tear off, faced failure.
My finger was stuck on spiny spike
Pulled it, yet pain to endure
Drop of blood on fingertip in scarlet red.
Vain attempt to make me afraid.
Piercing passion in blazing flame
Lovely rose abloom in thorny frame.
Bright lustrous, yet thorns to blame.
Not the thorns, but the rose I claim.
To stop the blood, I had to suck.
Scarlet red rose! I must pluck
Again, I had to try my luck.
Got ready for second attack.
I tore the rose and won the game.
07/11/20
'The Flower, The Thorn or Both' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
autumn rainbow jubilee
shades of autumn burst
colorful hillside hues ~
inner fire of fall
umber oaks shed leaves
tall forest giants shiver ~
sleepy acorns doze
fiery scarlet leaves
sugar maples glow like coals ~
flurries of orange
fall breeze fantasies
gold flutters from aspen trees ~
overcoats of snow
birch trees ochre leaves
black and white tuxedo bark ~
kinglets swing on boughs
multi-colored leaves
rainbows green pink and saffron ~
sycamores spread fruit
shapely hickory
furrowed dark grey scaly bark ~
squirrels hide tree nuts
spiny light brown pods
autumn storms harvest chestnuts ~
cold reigns in raindrops
autumn jubilee
bounty of leaves nuts and seeds ~
beauty walks the earth
10-27-22
On a grassy verge above the surging rill
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong
sprint to who knows where.
Date written; 23rd Of December 2020
Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022
Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15
Sponsor ; Mark Toney
A 26 line poem
On a walk after the worst of the Sandy storm
I slogged down the still dampening
Green grass valley rutted between
The moldering fences of the shadowed alley.
Under the low, ominously rushing, soggy gray clouds
I saw so many black birds silently
Clinging against the stiff breezes
To the broken branches of the skeletal oak on the corner
As if they relished the fate of the cruelly stripped leaves.
I saw a hundred crows there.
How many make a murder?
Black pointy wraiths;
Scattered commas lined up like
Iron shavings stuck
To magnetic branches.
Dull steel skies slid in vast arcs around them.
Sprinkling windy foreboding,
Their clouds reached down
To Collect their talons.
So many eyes I know they see
Spiny black needles poking out of me.
Bloodless murder, muffling gray gauze No need to caw…,
A hundred crows see it all.