Runts Poems | Examples


My Sister Bequethed

Lythe
Salvations droplets
My Elder Sisters Coven
Craven images devout plights
Nestled as high 
Illusive runts

"I want you to diffuse
   Christ's ******** Kevin"

Stain them

Premium Member Why Do We Look Up To This Bully

The little cats all look up to the terrible lion.
If they do not pay homage, he may eat them.
He gobbles the weakest runts and the old ones up in big bites.
Letting them know what he thinks of them, bullying and snarling.

Why do we look up to this guy? One of the smaller one asks.
Because it may save our life someday another one says.
But what if we all banned against him and stood up to him?
He is king of beasts, and we are mere kittens. Don’t be ridiculous!

So, the big bully gets powerful and looked up to,
And we get smaller and smaller, being eaten one at a time?
Now you understand, the fearful cat said.
I knew you would.


In Poetry There Are Poets and Others

The greatest poets I've read, all conceive they're runts...
       The little ones I've read all imagine  them immense....

Misfortune of War


They were wavy heart told,
there was a silver star-shaped pot of gold
at the end of the hellstorm rainbow

This was the time-honored 
private talk 
to the latest crop 
of pawn fodder privates

Battlefield grunts on the frontline
A pact of brothers
	of diverse colors
		in the Death Metal Band
Human shield runts in the chain-of-command

The General consensus was,
the grieving families would annuity understand

But the living remnant,
the broken pieces of bloodied memories
They reaped the iron-copper riches of the sword,
the carnage cursed misfortune of war

The hailed heroes were uniformly told,
there was a halo-shaped pot of gold
at the end of the cluster explosion glow

What was left unsaid:
Was how to live
with shrapnel in the soul — 
Faceless collateral

on the stained coins 
of valorous tears
Buried inside the chest

Tainted treasure of splattered images
Regrettably,
so beggarly numb to forget


10-15-21

Premium Member The Garden of Hope

The last place to find what you want!!
The Garden of Action is where you must hunt.
Hoping is not powerful, and it's made for runts.
You will discover nothing at all brilliant.


In the Garden of Action is your strongest steed.
Planting your seeds for your goals you must do.
Nobody is coming to do it for you.
You need purpose, alacrity and lightning speed.


Those poets in contests here, write to win!
They are not drinking lemonade, living in the wishing glade.
They planted their entries, with their pens as a spade.
They live in production and give us shining inspiration.!


                

                               5/4/2021
                                   ~2~


Premium Member Growth

Majestic evergreens, ramrod tall, towering over the fence they border
   Long-ago runts, thirsting for water, struggling for their place in the sun

Bought for a pittance, a young man's dreams egging them on
   Now he's older, they've left him behind, stumbling in their wake  

As they fight back against the chill Spring wind, headstrong as he once was
   His laughter parting the very skies, pleading for Nature to take her course

Premium Member Wee People

What's fair and right we oft dismiss
While clinging to our prejudice.
But biggest biases of all
Are aimed at us, the short and small.

What's tall or towers people praise,
But opposites get no bouquets.
Short applicants are shown the door,
And folks the undersized ignore.

You call us names that really hurt
Like small fry, shorty, shrimp, and squirt.
And pygmies, peewees, half-pints, runts
And dwarf and midget are affronts.

You should not judge on size alone.
James Madison could hold his own.
Attila was a little Hun.
Napoleon was number one.

I look you squarely in your knees
And ask politely would you please
Become a bit more circumspect
And give to us our due respect.

To terminate this diatribe,
If tales some heroes would describe
As "little, dark, and handsome," then
Perhaps I'll not complain again.

(But pale and homely people might.)

Premium Member Rickity Ragity

Rickity Ragity  by James Edward Lee Sr.
 
Rickity risked
rags while rolling rolls
role playing rogues
rose roused rubbing
rubbish right handed
ricochet retained objective

Rickity Ragity is his full name
He is a rabbit who ain't ashamed
Sewing and gambling is his game

retaining ripen red roses
russet runts running mates
ripping rip roaring while showing
rhinoceros repelling lions swag

Rickity Ragity is his full name
He is a rabbit who ain't ashamed
Sewing and gambling is his game

Rickity girlfriend is a chinchilla
who lives in the villa
her name is Regina
and she likes ruba-shakes
sipping on organic carrot laden coffee cake
recovering reaction reckoning
Rickity buys licorice

Rickity risked ricochet retained objective
Sewing and gambling is his game
rhinoceros repelling lions swag
Rickity Ragity is his full name
He is a rabbit who ain't ashamed
Sewing and gambling is his game
Rickity Ragity is his name

12/06/17

Premium Member Damsel Causing Distress

DAMSEL CAUSING DISTRESS


The knight errant sent for me, but I’ve gone missing
For three days now, while he’s composed a ditty:
In the tide of feminism I still haven’t given up kissing
Being what is termed fatalistically pretty - 

But I can be the ‘no’ that makes for nice
When his flame burns under his boiler suit,
Then I’m decently torpid like a fish on ice
Where the guts need to go when the runts root - 

A pillowing breast, my nightcap a soliloquy
To hell with his billowing sails and pregnant ships
Let him go, this guy who’s got everything but me
With his big thighs, big legs, big hips - 

All the things we women should shun
Save satin, silk,  squirm,  sperm,  and …sun.

(c) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)

Another Day Another Jovian Dollar

ANOTHER    DAY   ANOTHER   JOVIAN  *  DOLLAR

Strolled down to the café to meet the guys,
The braves  as  we call ourselves in vain.
Get  a breath of fresh ammonia  from the skies 
Maybe a  whiff of methane.

Not many red men left now to stand .
White earth dudes tried to kill off  all 
Of  us  native  Joviandians and 
Take whole of  Jupiter  for themselves  in thrall.

Space the final frontier, by Jove
Not moving west now but out.
Treaties  made and broken. Where can we  rove?
They killed off all the jovalloes,  used to roam about. 

Even our Jovian satellites are exploited  for metals or oil, 
And hey,  look what happened to the Great Red Spot:
Filled up with earth guys.  They have technology for our   soil -
Of course, now  renamed the Great White Spot.

Still they all must  live in a strong steel cavity
Like a captured  earth species  avian.
Small runts who can't stand up  in our big gravity 
Makes   us    jovial   Jovians.

..........................................................................


*Jovian =  adjective relating to planet Jupiter

To My Friend

To my friend
I love when you bring me down
Dropping me onto the floor
Headfirst 
While my hands are forever bruised
With the shape of your fingers
Midnight, down in my room
Paint fumes, runts, waste
Sticks, non-toxic taste
Notes on squares small
And I love it all

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