Long Squinty Poems
Long Squinty Poems. Below are the most popular long Squinty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squinty poems by poem length and keyword.
To be nobody - but -yourself-- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else--means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. E.E. Cummings
Panagiota's Lament
I woke with some sadness this
morning,
Hesitating to write my very
direct poetry, anymore!
I honestly believed I could hide
my fighting spirit?
In some poetry that does not
knock on anyone's soul door.
I cannot be anyone but a soul
stirrer!
I try to get people to wake up
and think!
And too bad the masses do not
like it.
Of my poetry, you won't find
any close duplicate.
I cringe in pain when writing
poetry to please others!
Neither with quill nor in person,
can that ever be.
I am condemned to do exactly
as E.E. Cummings said: write
fearlessly!
To some, I am a a good friend,
and to others?
Alas, they see me with their
squinty, stiff poetic or political
lens.
Wanting me to write to please
them?
No, that will never happen, I
write about what I see as true.
Amen!
I believe so much in poetical
liberty I can't be labeled, try
as many do.
It's just me, knocking at your
heart, pleading with you...
To be wide open and to be the
most joyfully, open you!
August 14, 2019
Lemons squeeze reality into tiny sour drops
Cherry pops on clouds turn red with envy
Apple blossoms fly through branches down
Which requires acrobatic accuracy astounding
Explosions are the foundation of reality
If they don’t wake you up than nothing will
Oranges fall from trees when shaken up
Bananas cost too much and come in bunches
Never trust them or their color to be ripe
When cherry bombs go pop, clouds disappear
Tranquility is another word for love dispersed
Ask tangerines for their opinions
Lemons wake us up to squinty faces
Gentle to the touch they grow on trees
Left alone they come in yellow squeezed
In debonair, burnt-orange, fur cloak
You trot your preened tail in front of the men folk
Nose pointed skyward prowling for a free dinner after dark
Your prickly ears snare every sensual bark
Squinty eyes reflect the sleekest of movements
With soft, silky prance; you parade your flossy accoutrements
Until spotting a virile, unsuspecting suitor
Your animalistic hunger will your wary maven tame and tutor
Forthwith, wrapping your seductive paws around every seamless border
Your fawning tongue feasts on every truant part in short order
Then dragging the drained prey back to your temporal den
Smacking your satiated lips you howl and grin
Voices traverse the medians of my head
or, at least they used to...I thought I didn’t
always like what they had to say...at least
they said something that was interesting
I forgot what I was supposed to remember
a while back, I took my dog shopping only
I didn’t find what I was looking for because
nothing is exactly where we left it, there
is an illusion that it is the same yet I have
no proof and I am always seeking proof
what I see with my eyes I no longer consider
proof of anything out of the ordinary
would I recognize it if I could see it?
Squinty eyes makes the world a different
flavor of perception perhaps sweet, nooooo,
perhaps savory is the best selection of all
Would you know if savory was really
Sweet Heart to thine own self be true
no selflessness, no selfishness, only to
thine own self be true.
This is the story of Ethel Slater
An anarchistic agitator
She met her end in feigned humility
At a reinforced facility
Ethel, no more golden hearted
Let me tell you how that started
And let me tell you how it went
When she took on the government
*
Her basic pension she would eke
But she was old and very weak
She needed food and needed heat
But sometimes it was heat or eat
At least for two months every year
She could live with greater cheer
A fuel allowance each Noel
Meant she could heat and eat as well
Although not much, at least it meant
She might still be around at lent
But then a vote… a glitch in time
So, late in life, she took to crime
A brand new sheriff came to town
His mission?.. Put the people down
He hatched a plan with Robber Reeves
But kept their secret up their sleeves
And when they won the public vote
An awful law was quickly wrote
His name was Starmer and he swore
The old could freeze forevermore
The Christmas fuel allowance
Wasn’t worth the cash it cost
The sheriff’s men kept schtum
About the lives that would be lost
But Ethel Slater soon rebelled
And tried to warm one room
A duvet and an armchair
Were her glimmer in the gloom
Alas she sat too close
And when the heater spat a spark
Her neighbours, through her window
Saw the flames light up the dark
Sheriff Starmer sent the cops
To find poor Ethel choking
Her skin was burned and so they charged her
with the crime of smoking
Through blackened lips she mumbled,
“But my meagre life is hell.”
So Starmer said, “She’s Far-right too,
Just sling her in a cell!”
*
But lo! Her cell was warm
She got three meals each day as well
She didn’t seem upset
As far as anyone could tell
One day she called a guard
And mentioned Starmer’s squinty eyes
She laughed out loud when Starmer said
“She’ll stay there till she dies!”
The impressive buildings on the Glasgow sky
Compliment life on the River Clyde
With its many secrets it cannot hide
But that is life in Glasgow.
From the understated Squinty Bridge
And George Square to Buchanan Street
Makes it hard for a "Weegie" to leave
But that is life in Glasgow.
A "Weegie" takes the good and bad
Supporting a British with Scottish flag
And tension flows between the clans
But that is life in Glasgow.
It's music and it's celebrity stars
Do not hide its gangster past
No such thing as a "Weegie" facade.
But that is life in Glasgow.
Glasgow life gets under your skin
The richness of a life it brings
A melting pot of good and sin
But that is life in Glasgow.
It’s not the word “Mother”
that means anything to me,
it’s the emotion and love inside the word,
hidden, for all to see, it’s the
Mold I measure myself by, the
Optimism I learned, the
Tower of strength I lean on, the
Hearth and home that nurtured, the
Encouragement to fly, and the
Rock that has held our family together through the years.
It’s the woman I call Mother
and her gentle, loving eyes,
that “squinty” look, the love and pride
that sees right through the lies.
Her poise, her laughter,
her intimidation, and her grace,
her smile of encouragement and
the patience on her face.
She’s all the thing I hope to be,
a vibrant, bright bouquet,
as breath taking and beautiful,
as the first daffodil in May.
© 5/10/14 TDR