Scours Poems

Make America Grate Again

Don’t care whom it ravages:
this land was always Thine.
Circle wagons, shoot all savages,
and things are (once more) fine.
The Swaggarts, Bakkers and Miscaviges
will soon be judenrein.

For far too long we’ve been contrite.
The best of cleaners scours.
We’re gonna give them fight or flight
(for far too long, they’ve gotten flowers).
There’s nothing wrong with being white:
or claiming what is ours.

Remember when Strom Thurman ruled?
A time when men were men.
For decades we’ve been wrongly schooled:
the sword subdues the pen.
Though King and Evers had us fooled,
we don’t get fooled again.

America was always mean,
until we lost our way.
The atom bomb, the mud marine –
Pacific equals prey.
You’re eighteen? With an A-15
you’ll always get your way.

We don’t need Confucian.
We’ve got Roger Stone.
Disregard the Constitution –
we’ll do this on our own.
Clear Catullus? Lucid Lucian?
Our wisdom is home-grown.

We bow, but only to our owners:
faceless, taxless, they:
they’re so rich, they give us boners:
they never leave LA:
we worship them. They’re known as donors:
we gave the store away.

Sun disgraced disheveled

Sun disgraced disheveled
the sun disgraced scours
its demeanor to defaced
at what's happening
down here on its Planet Earth
Gaia reeks restitution

wallflower

jilted wallpaper flower ~ sours and appalls when blooms are sprawled as scours

Dreams and Hearts

a serene lake on a moonlight night,
as she paddles her canoe away,
far into distance where it shines bright,
in gentle breeze water lilies sway.
her hopes are lit she would meet her dreams,
that warmth and lips that such young hearts yearn,
she scours in shadows between moon beams,
a lost effort in daily sojourn.
knock on the door brings her to morning,
wiping the sadness of a lost hope,
turning she smiles at her love snoring,
she had with whom tied marital rope!
dreams and hearts can be split in two parts.


9 syllables with abab rhyme sequence
except the last line with a rhyme within.

Blackbirds And Wildflowers

My mind’s where fairy tales reside,
where a mote and castle collide;
A prince on a porcelain steed,
running away with him I’m freed;

Maybe a kingdom made of waves,
it’s wily princess misbehaves;
Locked inside it’s turbulent walls,
‘Anywhere but here!’ her soul calls;

When the darkness closes my eyes
I open them to salmon skies;
Blackbirds and vibrant wildflowers,
reality my daydream scours;

He and I doubled with laughter,
soak in romance ever after.

Engagements

The day of two superpowers
     Passing white clouds amidst blue skies
Heaven's sprinkling blesseth showers
     Turquoise blue lagoon compromise
Surface inviting raindrop scours
     Lush influence by butterflies
Delicate petals of flowers
     Redolent coercion complies
Defining times Happiest Hours
     The mother of the bride still cries
The bride end days of wallflower's
     The daddy's sentimentalize
The proud bridegroom man of the hour
     Exchanging vows and sharing eyes
The rings, kiss, bell tolls church tower
     Engagement ends and new arise
Family, balance of power
     Garter and bouquet caught, surprise
Then culminating, zero hour.

A String, A Stick, A Stone

     a morsel of this
       a crumb of that
     a string, a stick, a stone
       
     a robin scours around
       the nearby ground ~
     discards make her nest a home

Murder On The Orient Expressed

Murder on the Orient Express--just?
Shorter the fuse tighten the screws,
sharper stuns the rushed, drug delays the hushed,
marker trashed refuse, clues confuse.

'Morning after sharpened scours the given,
charming entertains the witty,
earning their forthcoming thwarts admission,
forming and sorting out gritty.

Straightforward clues like manna from Heaven,
page foreword; Farmer's Almanac,
date onward, sow-reap, from whence transgression?
Came forward all, the common task. 

Burdened heavily, labored the righteous,
incessantly drew in favor,
descendancy ends by the impious,
death penalty, all-signed ... waiver.

                      Adieu, Poirot

Unparalleled Play

   Unparalleled, his heady play
     court vision like a night-hawk
                in the blaze of day

   Unassuming shrugs, ‘no big deal’
      as he scours the court for his next 
                            basket or steal

   Epitome of unselfish, personification of team
     every basketball coach’s ultimate dream

   But Nikola Jokic’s Denver Nuggets this season were beaten
     Our disappointment next year may Jokic’s team sweeten

December, and the Light is Low and Cutting

Sky filters through scant woods
printing a cold sunlight on shadowed tree trunks.

Only December has this light,
it both scours and forages,
it scythes away all heaped-up flotsam.
A December wind,
sings its own death song.
Ice hangs unseen upon the air.

The woodland acres shimmer,
then tremble upon a long fading note,
one that ushers in
last rites and other mixed blessings.

My Cat, Dee Dee

Her ears point forward to a sound she hears.
A sound beyond a pitch to my ears.
Her legs now crouch to attend the fears
Of the twitching nose that scours the airs.

She runs like a bullet shot from a gun.
I'm following behind on the run.
She corners and traps her small bale,
While I stoop and lift it by the tail.

      Don't worry. I set it free.

The Girl Who Sings In the Shower

THE GIRL WHO  SINGS IN  THE SHOWER

The girl who sings in the shower
does so to feel alive
so her vision doesn't get fogged up

in there
she let's her hair loose
and let's the water sprinkle down

with each trickle of water on her skin
her soul gets nudged
and episode of events begin to unfold

the tales all clear
and electric
each hankering for acknowledgment

on good days
she sings and smiles to the memories that  make her heart race 

on bad days
she scours a little harder
leaving her skin feeling flushed.

the walls in the shower
witness her unadulterated emotions
they provide a satisfying symphony of solace

she gathers and rebuilds
apprising herself of the life now
her voice and melody not puny

The girl who sings in the shower
does so to ponder on the projections of life
and to keep her heart throbbing.

Lust

Words will sour
in your lust
for power,
it is these
deeds
that come.

Prayer is lush,
it makes
one cower
but pure
is the cure
that scours.

I fend off
these baleful insults
which tumult
through my brave
innocence.


The flower 
of the flesh 
is stretched
into power.


I oft come
here
and smell
the daisies
by the lake,
where bones so
fresh
waste away
in your wake.

Breakfast Calling

Sonorous breathing: rising, falling.
Kibble clinking; breakfast calling.

But first, a quick diversion out the door,
set free to go explore, but
tethered by what awaits.

She scarcely stops to breathe, devours
the contents of the bowl in haste.
No pause to savor, quickly scours
with swift efficiency, no waste.

heeding her bed call
she settles sighs closes eyes...
and dreams of dinner

—————

FIRST PLACE WINNER
For the “A combination of forms” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Syllables checked with HowManySyllables.com
Written 03/18/2022

The Life of Stones

Stones, pebbles
rolling underfoot,
granite boulders,
face of a cliff standing, 
running water,
water eroding stone
into soft sand,
rivers eating away 
limestone bit by bit, 
caves form, time scours

 
rock, symbol of
forever, eternity.
seemingly indestructible -
the Alps, the Andes,
and Rocky Mountains
thrusting fierce
against the sky.
Great walls carved of stone,
skyscrapers rise,
houses are built on rock.

Volcanoes spew
red-orange molten
rock flowing, destroying,
relentless, searing, 
yet creator of new land,
of new stone.
Rock -symbol of permanence,
over eons eaten
by erosion, becoming
stones, pebbles and sand.

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