Scaly Poems | Examples

The Monster Inside

the monster inside
wants me to hide
it wants to come out
that’s without a doubt

it rears its ugly head
filling me with dread
it tempts me to spiral
the monster’s gone viral

it’s going to get me in trouble 
I can no longer stay in my bubble 
I need to tame the beast
like an exorcism and a priest

it sees me when I’m mad
it likes it when I’m bad
it comes out when there’s jealousy
it hangs around like leprosy

I see it trying to get nearer
every time I look in the mirror
it tells me I’m not good enough
but I’m about to call its bluff 

I see its horns, I see its claws
it tries to point out all my flaws
I see it’s stupid toothy grin
and it’s scaly brick colored skin

i grab it by its feet and take it for a spin 
it says “I’m never gonna let you win”
I throw it across the room and say
‘time to go outside and play’

I kick its butt on out the door
“don’t worry I’ll be back for more”
I say “idc I’m not keeping score
you can’t control me anymore”

Experiences of Otherworldliness

Alice embraced the warmth 
of the bitter-sweet liquid concoction
Curiosity of "drink me" caused this 

Swirls began to know no limits
Ground twisting and breaking
The sky accumulating thick constellations

Up through the opening of what appears to be a magical mist
Alice wonders what this is
Quickly, the world changed, or was it Alice

Entering what seemed similar to Saturn 
Alice meets a being small and strange 
With green and orange scaly skin
Lue is the name

Together, the creature and Alice met many others 
How did I find a world of such wonders

Colorful splashes

Splish splash splash;
It is a colorful blash;
A brown leaf floats in a bathtub,
Does a leaf make noise, I doubt!!!

Yup!!! A little colorful leaf,
plunges into the bath;
Makes a sigh as a sign of relief;
Soon, other leaves join the path

Spattering the drops, 
They do hop;
Here, over there,
And everywhere.

The leaves play, they giggle;
They spray , they wiggle;
They make fun, they relish;
O! I could be these leaves, I wish.

Hey! Wait!!!
How come the leaves look so cute!!!

Oh, they are Munias!!!
Scaly breasted Munias!!!
Like the splashes they splatter,
My worries they spatter

Cute little munchkin peers
Make me shed happy tears after years...


02-June-2025

HYACINTH HANDS

 Hyacinth Hands

Mother, ego-cracker, birthed an embodiment of freedom plaited with slavery 
petunia planter, marjoram with Malay curry and rice, yet scarcity her best performance when hunger a primary protagonist 
my leap into Sovereignty depended on unraveling karmic bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios 
Piscean, she scaly presented the toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to 

her non-relinquishing of my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases
to despairing detach from plundering pain, each principal pleasure she designed with subtle oomph, unconscious sophistication 

my divinity would have back burned in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trialing pegs and variegated embroidery cotton

FROZEN SIDE OF THE SUN

FROZEN SIDE OF THE SUN

Everything has two sides, you will find
That which is thought hot can still hide
A secret, to be concealed as a priority
Yet is shared, only with a favoured few
And offering quite an unexpected view
And never made visible to the majority
Could even the sun have its frozen side
Such an illogical concept, for any mind

A pleasant nature, full of warm feelings
Can, when in an alternate manifestation
Turn suddenly, and expose a soul of ice
But which is the more true, one may ask
Without any hot sun under which to bask
Perhaps it is an artifice or a clever device
And in its complexity, needs explanation
Posing a challenge to all further dealings

If the mask has dropped, truth has begun
I wonder what might lurk behind a smile
Perhaps it is somewhat like a refrigerator
Warm outside, that keeps the inside cold
A heart of ice shards, or maybe it’s gold
As either a furry puppy or scaly alligator
In determining which, ignore any denial
As there may be a frozen side of the sun

she'z gotta go

.

         "and how would you 
            have me tell her"

               her mane iz
                  tatter'd
                    daily
              sheath scaly
           breath atrocious 
              her clothing 
          un-contemporary

       "she's your daughter
                   boss"

The Lady and Her Dragon

In a valley where the rivers wind,
Lived a lady with a heart so kind.
Her hair was gold, her eyes were bright,
And in her arms, a dragon’s light.

She found him young, a scaly green,
Lost and hungry, never seen.
With tender hands, she healed his soul,
And in return, he made her whole.

They soared the skies on wings of flame,
A bond so deep, it had no name.
Through forests dense and mountains high,
They chased the stars, they kissed the sky.

He roared when danger came too near,
She calmed him with a whispered cheer.
No knight could harm, no storm could fright,
For they were bound by love’s pure might.

In the darkest night, they’d dance and sing,
The lady and her dragon, taking wing.
No castle walls, no golden crown,
Just endless skies and love unbound.

I Have My Grandmas Hands

I have my grandma’s hands
Polka dotted, wrinkled, silly looking
Skin barely covering the blue veins
There is a snake-like scaly look to them
Plethora of wrinkles and bumps
With a jolt I realize she died at sixty-two
I thought she was old
Brings me to a shocking perspective
As I am seventy-two

The Real Monsters

The Real Monsters

We are afraid of fire breathing dragons and scaly lizards.
Things that go bump in the night. Shadow creatures
who live under our beds and in our closets. Yeti
and Big Foot. Pale ghosts and poltergeists.
Chupacabra’s and vampires. Blood red
demons with pitchforks and horns.
Imaginary monsters that
can do us no real harm.
Why do we fear
them. 
What we should be afraid of are people who chose evil.
MS13 and coyotes that traffic in human misery.
Corporate media giants that censor speech. Corrupt
politicians who sell us out to foreign countries.
School boards that label parents terrorists.
Dictators that oppress. Political correctness.
Murders, abusers, gossips, embezzelers.
Wars, hatred and genocide.
We should fear these. For
they are the
real
monsters.

At random does dance destiny of chance

A raindrop falls whence came --back to the sea, 
Another, it so haps, on lotus leaf 
To shine forth under sun for a while brief, 
Yet, every drop gets seldom so lucky
As to get silk beds-- blades of olive grass, 
Becoming an early dawn’s pearly dew 
To capture unfolding time’s crimson hue. 
On dust some get buried in graves en masse, 
Some get a cherished trophy if modest--
A scaly trunk aloof that opts to stand 
In a barren desert's dry scorching land, 
Some fall in rain forest with scores of rest.
    All this makes me to muse on destiny: 
    Is it a chance random that opts to be? 
For sure, it is Nature’s celestial dance
That unfolds at random as choice-less chance.
_______________________ __ 
Sonnet |01.03.07, revised Dec 2024| fate/destiny, time, space 

Poet’s note: The sonnet-ending couplet does not end the sonnet, but poses a question and goes on to answer, and in the process stretches the sonnet to sixteen lines.

widow witchs unlucky brother

Widow witch’s olive elixir all in
mystical bam for scaly itchy old skin
therapeutic in a Halloween way
best skin remedy of all back in the day

widow took out cauldron and gave a chant
wizard brother transmogrified into a teeny ant
other animals disappeared from view
I would not have stayed around, would have you?

Rattlesnake

Rattlesnake

Stealth reptile, scaly skinned viper,
Flickers fork tongue to smell direction:
Slithering through the environment,
Camouflaged to avoid detection.

Snake eyes focus without tail rattling,
Coiling into strike kill position.
Slowly, jaws separate; fangs exposing
Venom delivery of neurotoxins.

The gloom and doom shadow looms frightening,
Mesmerizing, the serpent unleashing.
The rodent stilled, listening for hissing,
Delaying reaction and is bitten.

The tiny creatures always do wonders

Dear guys,do you know one curious thing?,                        The tiny creatures always do wonders,                                    A mouse makes a hole in a mighty hill ,                             Brave beavers build dams and control rivers,                         A bee gathers honey from more flowers,                        Active ants form a line mark on stone rocks,                     The tech termites build an aeration mounds,                    Mud fish makes a hole in mud by its mouth,                 Strong spider knits a wide web to catch flies,                Honey badger doesn't wait to attack beasts,           Humming birds are acrobatic flyers,                                   Only butterfly has the scaly wings,                                     Don't try to pollute the planet earth,                                     And stop the tiny creatures to be extinct.

A Small Surprise

On my morning walk, which is
Adjacent to the river,
A small surprise is sometimes what
The city does deliver.

So yesterday, I heard a thump,
Metallic, so I slowed,
Expecting that a hubcap flew
From somewhere on the road.

Instead, I saw a sewer cover
Quaking as it rose
And crashed back down above a spot
Where the East River flows.

Thought number 1: a creature
Would be rising from the deep
And then his scaly self into
My neighborhood would creep.

Thought number 2: a prisoner
(Like “Shawshank”) would break free
Because from Rikers Island
There’s a chance that it could be.

Thought number 3: the river (high)
Would suddenly erupt
And shoot that cover skyward
In a manner most abrupt.

In any case, I hurried on
Without a backward glance,
Not willing, having had those thoughts,
To take the slightest chance.

Cold Comforts

Beyond the wave-sacked pebbles
lie the pockmarked dunes,
sea-wind swept heaps,
burrowed by the claws of scaly thrashers.

Here they huddle, the working class,
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers
as a chill summer drizzles on.

I am a brine-spattered small fry,
a boyhood caught in a swirl
and flounder, bare feet
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
an ankle tugging surf.

Mother, her demeanor
soggy and sagging at last,
pleads to be led back
to the creaking camper.

Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea,
looks to see God knows what,
then turns to drag me away,
from our holiday day.

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