Scraggy Poems | Examples

I saw God but now what

Indeed, I declare, I have seen God.
However, He emerged and vanished.
I was climbing up the hillock to visit the deity.
Noticed an aged-man with scraggy structure 
Sitting cross-legged on the verge
Stretched his dangling frail hand 
Seeking alms with slurred voice
I could read the pain behind his sunken eyes.
Instantly offered him what I was holding.
Indeed, I affirm, I saw God in him.
He emerged and vanished.
I climbed down as the purpose was fulfilled.
Thereafter, I went on many a time
Offering many to the gathering there.
Intended to envision Him again but in vain 
How could it happen earlier?
I deduced that my first impulse was out of spontaneity 
But not unpremeditated
I was amazed at this knowledge that beyond the mind.
However, until what is ingested is processed, I fear I may burn.

Reverse engineering a sureal Eden

Reverse Engineering a Surreal Eden.

To grow a mountain, - - - - - right!
In, an old jam jar, yeh right!  
Of clean soil, Soil! Isn’t that soiled?
Such a seed could be, soiled and would be exclusive;
Perhaps part time growing in window box?
May save the roof? No rain mind, just a tarry dim sun,
Breezed by a filthy wind ; alone!
in its eroded scraggy day, while
expanding, a different slice of the colour green.
Pushed skywards, it all looks the same!
What about Apples and Snakes?
and our engineered countryside,
of plastic and glass, filling allotments,
with mirrors for the gods! And soured bogs.
Eyes only open at jar breaking time
Its stop tap, but no tap to stop, too late,
And – the mountain? We shall keep it
Under the bed, so it can’t be seen.

The Paper Flower

Some will tell you,
that we hold a paper flower
in an endless night - who knows?

Some will say
only our dreams are awake
- who can tell?

Do we ride this cosmic river
in a leaking boat,
or are we all the radiance of the Buddha,
already enlightened -
maybe the paper bloom
is note fake aftercall.

Today we see a goat riding a donkey,
Tomorrow that same scraggy goat
is the mighty arch-angel Michael
and the donkey is your mind;
a shining steed
for one thousand more angelic beings.

We don’t have to take one picture
and hang it up forever.
The picture gallery is endless
and always evolving.

Some say that this world is on fire
but then again
maybe we are that refining fire?

Many contend
that it’s possible to see
what others will always miss
or miss what other’s will always see.
Who knows?

A new tongue between old lips,
or an old tongue between new lips;
let your tongue
and lips be strangers.

Perhaps that paper flower
is a symbol of our impermanence,

or just maybe a perfectly created sign
of an ever flowering eternity -
that just might be.

Abstract Art

A dab here, a splash there
vivids and pastels
smooth and scraggy

spontaneous strokes
wrapped in mystery

Profound
Subtle
Silent
Divine.

Abstract Art.

A beam, a flame,
A flicker, a flash

from

Infinity.

Bonarda

Bonarda?Twenty eight ripples 
counted , flow? actually, 
rain drops spare spaces.
?Newcastle darkened by windows,
shut,? a longing for short rope.
?Growing window boxes fell?, 
by taxis and the lost echoes?
Part time clocks between dead towers?Tick, 
through the eroded scraggy day?
Arrows flew blistered stray crows

The Hidden Corners of War

A DETOUR TO YPRES, (on returning from a holiday in France 2013)

WHAT A WASTE
A DIM TARRY SUN CLOSES, THE ERRODED SCRAGGY DAY,
IN HIDDEN CORNERS OF SOURED BOGS BROKEN MEN, AND MEMORIES SIT
MY DREAM WANDERS MONO-CHROME OUT OF THE LONG WIRED NIGHT
TAINTED IN FILTH, SEPERATED BY, TWO HUNDRED YARDS OF A DEATH GARDEN;
BEHIND MY CLOSED EYES, LAYED OUT IN WAVES OF LAST BREATHS
COME VISITS FROM YOU, AND THOSE LOST WORDS, I WISH I HAD SAID!
COUGHING ORERS LEAD US TO THE MORNING, PINS, RIBBONS, BRASS STARS
FOR THE DEAD, BEYOND THE SHARPENED LEAD AND SULPHUR;
WITH BACKWARD STEPS WE SEE WHERE WE HAD STOOD
WE FELL, BUT THE PAIN WAS MANY MILES TO THE WEST
THEY ALL FORGOT, THEY ALL NEVER SAW, BUT! THEY KNOW,
THEY PROCLAIM PEACE! MANY POPPYS, BUT JUST BRING MORE WAR.

Imagination

Imagine ! Engineering a Surreal Eden.
To grow a mountain, imagination right?
In, an old jam jar, yeh right!  

Of clean soil, Soil! Isn’t that soiled?
Such a seed could be, soiled and would be exclusive;
Perhaps part time growing in window box?

May save the roof? No rain mind, 
just a tarry dim sun.
Breezed by a filthy wind ; alone!

In its eroded scraggy day, while
expanding, a different slice of the colour green.
Pushed skywards, it all looks the same!

What about Apples and Snakes?
and our engineered countryside,
of plastic and glass, filling allotments.

With mirrors for the gods! And soured bogs.
Eyes only open at jar breaking time
And – the mountain? We shall keep it!

Under the bed, so it can’t be seen.
.

Poor Girl

Her hair was scraggy, grease covered, I could see she had no contact with soap for a long time. 
Her eyes were sunken and dark, I couldn't guess the last REM she experienced. 
Her coldsore covered lips looked very sore, 
The scent of her last client lingers on her half torn small red dress, as she limped on one stiletto I held the door open for her. 
Hopefully she will understand that not everyone is hurtful in this small act of kindness as she finally relaxes after her tiresome night shift.

Occupy This

Let none say that I did not try;
A tragic bundle here I lie;
Through half-closed eyes I recognize:
Slim shadowy forms flow by.

My scraggy mate lies by my side;
Loyal to a comfort I provide;
A fremdship that in times reminds;
Of yearnings satisfied.

Numb to a putrid, stale estate;
Numb to my mouldy, urined state;
I claim and occupy this space;
To compliment my fate.

The scrumbled note laid at my feet;
Is not to beg for sympathy;
Nor do I seek your empathy;
It is a fix I need.

Aging

getting old
Feeling cold
Croaky voice
Have no choice
Wrinkled skin
Getting thin
Thin and scraggy
Eyes baggy
Mouth droopy
Going loopy
Legs all swollen
Youth has gone
Stolen

Strange Case of the Cat With Cancer

I was lying on my couch resting,
As one tends to do when you have cancer,
When in came our cat with another scraggy cat in tow.

My wife was the first to notice this scraggy cat,
That had recently started hanging around,
Which I had asked my wife not to encourage.

There was our cat and the scraggy cat,
Right beside the couch just sitting there,
And staring at me.

I freaked out and shooed the scraggy cat out,
Which I now kinda wish I hadn't,
As later enquiries established,
That the cat belonged to a family down the road,
It was very old and suffered from cancer.

Now my wife suggests that our cat brought the scraggy cat around,
To take my cancer from me,
A scenario that leaves one wondering,
As there are more things in heaven and earth,
Than we could possibly imagine.

The Scraggy Fowl

16th September 2018

THE SCRAGGY FOWL	

The frightened scraggy fowl ran shrieking across,
The grass trodden path,
Only a squawk was heard in the aftermath,
Isaac’s gain, the chicken’s loss!

Young Isaac was bringing dinner home.
He knew it would be a treat,
This morsel of meat,
But the chickens flesh hardly covered even one bone!	

He threw the floppy fowl round his neck,
Isaac was small and the chicken nearly reached his belt,
But he was so proud of what he felt,
The fowl though dead, both looked like a total wreck!

He arrived home, mom invited her neighbors and told
Them all, how brave little Isaac was, for he had caught
And killed this fowl, which she had no money to have bought,
She cooked it and served them all, quite a feat, lo and behold!

The neighbors thanked Mom Emily and said goodbye,
Isaac was her hero, they had survived another day,
They both knelt down to thank God and pray,
And with light hearts let out a thankful sigh!

About a Cat

ABOUT A CAT
 
 They found you at the bus stop in the bin.
  scraggy mog with unmatched staring eyes.
  The soaking fur made bones show through your skin.
  How could we all resist your plaintive cries. 

  We brought you home and loved you from that day                                                                                                                                                                                                     
  A tortoiseshell with absurd velvet ears.
  Remember how we taught you how to play
  And climb the trees to allay all your fears

  For eighteen years you clung to every heart. 
 Our feline friend from destination 'bin' 
 We  sorrowed when your time came  to depart 
 And watched as moggy heaven let you in
 Sleep well my friend beneath your favourite tree.
 There's a  hole in our hearts where you should be.

catherine wilson
 2018
MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT A SONNET

Il Pleut

Il Pleut

It rains torrentially
after long drought and disorder;
it rains drenching the empathetic
scraggy soil of the heart
it rains moistening the rocks of anger
crags of revenge and cracks of depravity
it rains covering the jealous holes with purity
healing the undesirable crevices of the being
it pours incessantly to cover and clean
the gaps of deceptive caves of life
it rains inside me constantly
stretching the cramped limbs
softening the being;
it skits with a susurrus
leading me to the lee
when all on a sudden
something goes wrong
influenced by someone’s lewd smile
 or a serein’s half-hearted dampening.
Rain of grace falls and falls
to soothe my ruffled feelings;
it corrects, it helps, it leads me
always to the right way.
When it rains in the forest of my being
where the tallest trees touch the sky
and the moon shines bright on the leaves
through the gnarled branches
lighting the dark parts of existence,
life becomes wholesome
peaceful and serene.
Removing the dryness and darkness of life
rain of grace falls and falls
perpetually to revive.

Abandoned Life

With fingers ghostly pale and blue,
Touching the wind that never blew,
The moon shines straightly down upon
Your forlorn and forgotten home.

There hush and stillness cover roofs,
Blind glasses, used to be so smooth,
Despise the fears of scraggy trees
Of death over a span of years.

But they are not so hopeless though -
At times they ask themselves or so
About the reason for your leaving,
Losing their grayish-rusty leaf.

Under the opaque shapes of stars,
You, drowsing on the snow-white grass,
Poor child who didn’t have a thought
How mad and cruel adults’ world.

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