Scraggly Poems | Examples

Can't Sleep

Lying in bed. 
Blankets. 
Imagining glass orbs.
With fireflies inside.
There’s people sleeping. 
Tracing skeleton thoughts. 
While lying around. 
Nothing.
I like to write. 
About scraggly eyes and itchy grass. 
You have to eat. 
I do, and the thought of food is scrunched up in my mind. 
Pizza, but it’s made of bubble wrap. 
Burgers, but it’s a car running into me. 
I have to go home sometime. 
I said at some point. 
Images. 
Dead fireflies come to life. 
Fireflies eating flesh. 
Lying in bed. 
Just the background noise. 
And this bed is strange. 
Blankets making grumbling complaints. 
They’re all so mean to me. 
And there’s a swarm coming. 
The ceiling is closing in. 
There’s nothing to do. 
But lie around. 
And they judge me. 
For doing so. 
In this place. 
That is a home for beds. 
And I'm trapped.

Hermit

a scraggly
beard down to his knees
been there long
and praying
same old prayers from long ago
sans circulation

emu birds at my window

Three funny-looking scraggly emu birds were pecking at my window
I thought it was the rain or maybe hail until I looked out
They were hilarious-looking; what did they want? I wanted to know.
I did not understand their bird speak, they finally huffed off in a pout.

Sleeping Beauty

I remember the days when I'd fall
asleep before hitting the pillow.
Ah, the joy of a sound sleep.

I might not have been at my best
in the morning all things considered.
Day-old makeup very much past its prime.

My eyelashes were caked and looking scraggly,
my lipstick smeared across my cheek and pillow,
eyeshadow streaked clear across my forehead.

Thankfully one good shower made me whole again!



AP: 2nd place 2025

coyote thief

Coyotes are scraggly, ugly too
Eating carrion and roadkill overdue
She is a scavenger and a prey thief
Jackals enjoy kill until she makes it brief

Lily And Billy Collab

Lilly And Billy

Street cat Billy's spongy scraggly and cool
So, so edgy-sik, he's a grunge-dusky jewel
House cat Lily purrs he's so fine
Billy scoffs just get in line
But he knows deep down he'll gladly play the fool   
                                                              —Robert Gorelick

Fools rush in when Lily the feline purrs
The alluring cat with enticing curves
Yet it’s only Billy
Who sends Lily silly
The one for whom Lily's little heart swerves            
                                                              —Beryl Edmunds

Seedlings

We all start out like seedlings
Just emerging from the earth,
Alike in that we’re each of us
A product of a birth.

Depending on our genus,
We may grow up tall and straight
Or be scraggly or bristly,
Rooted down by luck or fate.

We’ll be nurtured and be nourished
Or be totally ignored,
Grow in gardens gently tended
Or be trampled and abhorred.

Some of us will sport some flowers
To embellish and adorn,
While for others there’s deception
Waiting in a hidden thorn.

Though there’s sun and rain and shelter,
Nature doesn’t really care
If each seedling has an equal shot,
For life just isn’t fair.

Pets

Our pets got old.
We all acted surprised.
When we had puppies and kittens…
They were playful and unstoppable.
So were we.
As they settled down-
We graduated high school.
As they got weak and scraggly-
We graduated collage.
Now we take turns sending our condolences.
Our friendships changed.
Our pets loved us all the way home.

Kruse Rhodendendron Reserve

When fire raged and burned it's roof, sun rays fell to forest floor,
And lit upon scraggly flowers once doomed to bloom no more.
Then unharnessed, like wild horses, the shrubs began to fight.
Each year they grew and blossomed, thanking sunshine for it's light.

The rains in spring brought forth rhodendendron's chromatic reds,
Near Redwood towering trunks 'bove where squirrels make their beds.
The rhodendendrons meander like hikers in the hills,
To startle round forest corners with blossoming pink thrills.

Kruse Rhodendendron State Natural Reserve is a park,
A California treasure, a pleasant trip to embark.
While hiking beneath the Redwood trees' scented canopy,
Enjoy this gift of land, enjoy the flowers wild and free.

Her Fur and Her

Her fur used to fly.
She used to fly.
From the floor to the couch.
Once she settled- 
We’d brush.
For years, it was full and youthful.
Then it was falling out in tufts,
So we’d brush more gently.
She was a little scraggly…
Both her and her fur were becoming thin.
We joked that there was nothing but bones under that fur.
We joked.
When we found her…
We pet her as if there was a heartbeat underneath.
We wanted to brush her one more time.
But there was no need.
The brush went to the back of the closet.

Dead

I feel myself becoming scraggly in this place.

As if I’m old, but I don’t remember being old.

I feel my face and it’s smooth this time.

They lead me to bed.

They give me bland soup that I dribble everywhere.

I take my bites and they don’t care.

They want to take my organs.

They want my kidneys, and brain, and skin because I’m special.

I fall asleep anyway.

Then it’s breakfast.

And my heart is gone.

Moxie and Grit

   Wandering, ever wandering 
     straddling cultural divides
   Never homing, ever-roaming
     o’er fretful borders or oceans’ high tides

   The hands of a tailor, a mender, a fixer-upper
     conning the vernacular just enough for supper
   Wandering, ever-wandering through darkest woods
     a sharp eye for the worth of second-hand goods … 

   Known to one and all, the disheveled figure
     makes his way with aught but moxie and grit
   The wandering Jew, scraggly beard, ear-locks and spit
     pride in his bearing ~ scraping by on faith and wit

Elf Sleeps In Mouse Hole

What is in that mouse hole snoring away?
The cat sneaked a peek and tiptoed that day
Grabbed his owner’s phone and took a photo too.
Of a snoring elf sleeping in a matchbook box of red and blue.

The elderly elf had a scraggly beard, he was not fresh at all.
He’s a teensy thing, the cat said “less than three inches tall.”
The mouse family had invited their guest, who had promised them the moon.
They shooed the cat and the other gawkers away using a sixties tune.

Once Called Paradise

Gravel road winds up to the gate
    logs from a bygone era, sturdy
      electrified now, to keep out ~
        or perhaps to keep in ~

  The cowshed, chicken coop
    scraggly gardens and grapevines
  all still there, the ground still bare
    desert sand, flies around
      but no one dies of thirst... 

  Paint's peeling, metal's rusting
    fragrance carried on the air
  Paradise once for this sixty-year-old-lad
    walking the fields, remembering dad

Knowing Mamie

Mamie has a rather shabby coat, it is a mainstay
We all know it; green with tassels, a bit scraggly
It was her mother’s coat, she will never get rid of it
It still smells like her, she tells us.

Is she creepy? A newcomer asks me.
She has not met Mamie yet.
You need to meet her and make up your own mind.
She does, and she falls in love with her.

Like the rest of us have.
She might be wrinkly and old,
She might not have the best clothes
But she has the best heart.

• Short Scraggly Poems
• Famous Scraggly Poems
• Best Scraggly Poems
• Read Scraggly Poems
• Long Scraggly Poems
• Scraggly Quotes