Cadre, thou art quincurion.
Five pointed star says sight, scion.
One in the center, mighty strong.
Four on the sides to greet the throng.
Clamber right o'er that wall, burglar.
Prize in thy eyes, shoot past the par.
Combination lock, face of safe.
O machine gunner, time to strafe.
Quinnat, move thy force in quinnet?
Pincer formation wins the bet.
However, salmon, wedge has wings.
Beware the spinneret. It stings.
Coalacanth, in the glassy lake.
Life is a rogue with thirst to slake?
Turmoil and trial? Fresh ocean blue?
Red rabbit, river, run straight through.
Quoddity, haunt the quadlibet?
Placard, plinth alabaster. Yet:
Relevance, where do you stake claim?
Pertinent, prosper. Fling, O flame.
Entelechy, thy entalpy.
Reason, heat up and sing in me!
Tangle, my thought-spark! Lightning falls!
Blistering broadsides by the balls!
Salve of diviner, vision weird.
Cel animation leered and jeered.
Alien skies and faces strange.
Jagged pulsation, range the change.
Electric shock, fire furious eyes.
Bring back the bolt that fastest flies.
Whirlpool, hum and whir. Broken bow.
Whippoorwill, swallow, undertow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
scorpion
pincer-tailed, sun-scorched
stalking, lurking, surviving
wind, sand, moonlight, stars
hiding, creeping, hunting
eight-legged, stinger
arachnid
the seahorses grazed in a field undersea
the jellyfish wobbled at the party
the starfish in their constellations went
the clams secretive tight lipped and silent
the hammerhead sharks did the DIY
the clown fish entertained as they swam by
the plankton ruled undersea in their gangs
the octopuses spent too long shaking hands
the crabs on the side their day they spent
the lobsters approached in a pincer movement
the sea urchins loitered dishevelled and poor
while the oysters enjoyed everything and all
She eyed open like a broken mirror.
Her mother claimed
that her legs were bowed
so that she could catch the moon
between her black knees on moonless nights.
Tiny mandibles chewed her leather tongue
until it was as thin as a razor edged rapier.
it was her beef jerky meditations
that kept her words fibrous and tactile.
I married Ladybug inside a bottle
of sweet yellow Merlot
(we were stuck and sticky
in the last drops of a licking love).
She wore a red spotted dress
and her shoes were pincer bright.
I flagrantly fought her to a standstill
in my usual green camouflage.
Her father chased me for days
for I had stolen her hard shell-like mind;
he never caught me
though he did put a spell inside my head,
a Catholic chain-mailed spell
that bound me to her hard carapace
as if I were an aphid -
a gummy mouthed aphid
that could only hitch a ride
strapped to her ever searching hunger.
pincer-like movement
mollusc shell host shifts crab wise ~
life clings to low tide
Wild Animal Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Syllable counter PS 5/7/5
04/11/22
He called your nation a 'fiction'
wishing you chaos and pain.
Like a savage grizzly intent on
your utter destruction.
He thought, so naively, that
you will buckle under his missiles' rain
triggering a new biblical exodus.
with a leader weak and tenuous
playing the NATO blame game,
harboring ambition of Soviet reclaim;
took his cues from Hitler's pincer attack,
backed by his convoy of artillery and tank;
hedging his bets on a Russian blitzkrieg
with little worries of his soldiers' fatigue.
Must watch Chaplin's Great Dictator
begging mercy from the creator.
You've now taught him a new word, Quagmire
familiar with his army's cold campfire.
his generals Know now the price of invading
a heroic nation praised the world over as outstanding;
your valor and sacrifice,
your blood and honor
turning history's dice.
Glory to Ukraine, to your
steadfastness and resolve,
to your triumph in this bloody brawl.
in diagnosis of psychosis, his pincer glasses reddening his nose,
the professor’s leverage - his certificate upon his office wall - the know-it-all.
a fragment of his time spent examining inky blots - the bevel of distortions of a picasso-like mind. he derided himself for thinking his patient as a derelict, given his own raggedy suit, long scraggly beard. He tap..tap...taps his pen, thunking it against his papers...tap, tap, tap to the annoyance of this...ahem, derelict.
“I must find a resolution to your illness. This panic you feel when you step into my office,” he can never bring himself to look the stranger in the eye.
with the vortex of a sinkhole, his innards drop out, when the derelict calls out,
“Times up!”
in conclusion of his illusion until next week, he thinks to himself,
‘next time we show up clean cut. that will fool him.’ he takes the blots with him.
he must know the answers for next time. the derelict must be locked up and he must be set free.
6/11/2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Kai Neumann
*My original is 14 lines. Please don’t hold it against me if the poem runs longer on PS.
The lobster smiled at Carlsen on the other side of the table,
never played one before, appropriate his name was Klawvostic,
they say that Carlsen waits for mistakes, there were none,
Carlsen smirked, if I kill him, first I'm supposed to stun.
Once, an insect had fallen from the greasy hair of an opponent,
he had picked up a rook and painstakingly crushed it to death,
Norwegians have no qualms, that's why he was the best,
it would take more than a crustacean and all the rest.
The lobster opted for the crab's gambit, which was refused,
not the first time that he'd created a Zulu pincer he'd been accused;
the game ground along, Carlsen imagined a good shelling,
but who would crack first - there was no way of telling.
Finally, Carlsen reluctantly just had to offer a draw,
the lobster grinned, if that was possible and held out a claw.
Written on papyrus in the presence of different entities,
Thousands words written in Egyptian on a stone slab laid cryptic piece,
Dreaming realm of hallow wrath plague ridden disease,
Helms, spears, and tyrannical vengeance no apostle increase,
If the missions complete and the village is piled with burning deceased,
Then dear Nero let us move out and head on east,
For Gaul is in line, Germania is stuck with a barbarian decrease,
Mongolians are circling the river as the Goths retreat,
Growling lions, eagle insignia, war drum my heart beat,
Never falter, never fail, we die before we face defeat,
Bleeding feet on the pinnacle of this mountain surrounded with only sick to treat,
Macedonians upon ruination looking to Jerusalem to find the weak,
Holding back while we are cut off without a bite to eat,
A two prong pincer maneuver cutting off supplies while we sleep,
It will always be blood upon blood ravage savage feast, For when we die is the only time we will truly know peace.
(2017)
Spherules start a pincer attack
on the modesty of an epiphany.
The manifestation was incomplete.
The windows were very small in-
the wind-palace. Only ringdoves
were sitting on the sills, cooing all day.
They were sitting in a row; cross-
legged, the naked monks. As a penance
they were getting the scalp hair pinched off.
Swearing will not help. You need to
suffer like a forgotten language,
like grass blades who bend again & again.
Satish Verma
waterside vigil
buffalo nears water hole
lions crouch low nearby
three-pronged ambuscade
buffalo calf culled from herd
swift pincer attack
quarried prey springs forth
stressed calf serpentines about
lead lion cuts angle
driven toward snare
flanks assaulted from both sides
vise tightened prey clasped
Smiles in face pale
Benign heart fades to black
Smart and sassy
Opportunist at her peak
Bottomlessness of ingratitude
Shambles of shame
Shadow of wrath
Empty filthy air
Heartless hopeless
Tomorrow 'll come
I'll see what it would be
With you at the wheel
So unbelievable
I toiled,I worked
I endured and I...
But it's hard to believe
I'm the butt
The gun in your hand
Fire away without care
I don't care how it hurts
Wished I had known better
Well doesn't it serve me right
Lost in close empty chase
Trying to better what's lost
Spoilt forever and ever
Forever forever and a day
Forever forever 'll make a way
Forever forever I 'll say
I did enjoyed the burnt stake
I thank God it's now
In shaky heavy heart
Leaping relentlessly to stop
Nothing for grabs
Nothing for keeps
The mannequin and her sword
Piercing..oh pincer tear away in mercy
The long long battle set
We shall see how it goes.
Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.
Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.
The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.
One day foundation of skeletons will build a
temple of hope.
SATISH VERMA
Blazing through times infinite passage
Catwalk fire burning the ramp in the daze
Blushes and kisses flaunting killer treads
Shapely curves consort with pleasure.
Stretched unfolding muscular fluidity
Free moving tendril arms in fancy flights
Eyes full of mischievous fanaticism
Penetrating drive in pincer moves.
Thirsting sensuous quivers in melody
Delightful vibrant charismatic form
Playful coaxing to grip body desire
Hanky panky stealing each ones heart:
Boris you have burnt thy brush painting fire;
To touch fantasy in weird perfection:
In honor we can stand together for the departed ones.
No tears or shame here; all nature sees is duty call.
At the rear, The Kilt deceives; the spies sneak.
Gospels of morals, ethics and truth, sidelined.
Those are pincer moves, from the decorated ones.
Gold, Silver plaque row: Commander’s crush?
No Captain can do very wrong, as he pace’s, places,
His ship along side a foe assault: Fair, power scoop?
Rate those, three-decker’s: 51 broadside rounds.
Flag ship in the line, gleaming heated fire balls.
Arrogance. Call’s the master at arms, eager waiting,
Run out guns, ticking beats, sizzle balls in hand.
O! Olea fragrance; shouldn’t one steal your breath,
Cast you in double yellow hues of smiling Petunia.
Ink you a friction, in colourful threads of truth.
Reveal magic, in the melodies of the erotic Moon.
Faithful, you can rift: embarrassment is on the drift.
Hear your tin clatters sing, on kilt’s captivating wings.
Can I bear should you wilt? Yonder perceive those winks.
Fair-one, ‘love or war’ I can see the Broad Pendant sink.
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