Thicket like at rest
Raises as lanky limbs stretch
Scuttles hurriedly
2026-02-12 Write A Beautiful Carpe Diem Poem — Sponsored by Constance La France
I have a butcher’s at sunlight on skin,
warm, tremulous, yet coolly indifferent.
A sparrow scuttles across sodden turf;
its head inclined, inquisitive, keen—
I smile, imagining its quiet thought,
a tiny philosopher of morning light.
The wind threads through skeletal, bare branches,
stirring peat, drizzle, and smoke from hearths afar.
I inhale—letting it suffuse my lungs,
a private liturgy pressed to my heart.
Time traverses my fingers, soft at first,
like river water shaping unseen stone,
then quickens—sharp, insistent in its beat,
resonant within the hollows of my chest.
I taste the acerbic tang of fallen berries,
feel loam yield beneath soles and marrow deep,
and in this fractured, ephemeral morning,
I recognise the miracle not quite mine:
all of this—fleeting, exact, and unbidden—
asserts its plenitude; I am suffused.
dressed for murder
Autumn leaves have made the track in the forest a wonder
to walk, the summer is over, and now the best time of the year beckons.
Stillness, a squirrel is busy collecting nuts; they have seen me before
and see no reason to stop their task.
A black snake scuttles across
the track and appears annoyed, like I should have disturbed
The natural order of things: snakes catch squirrels.
It was a serpent that ed up Adam and Eve`s dream of Paradise,
a small bungalow and a few pigs, was that too much to ask?
Up north, they kill seals, they eat our fish, so we kill them and women
They were beautiful coats, especially baby skin fur, but that is ok,
The sea is our larder.
A soft breeze blows a leaf
It scuttles and scurries across the porch
Brown and shriveled, looks a bit like an oak leaf
Dead, yet still able to move in the wind
I can hear another hearty gale from the west
I wait for the leaf’s next performance
As she slides across the porch my puppy chases her
When I Google you,
I recognize the struggles and muggles you face,
I recognize the brutalities and the scars from decades of suppression and oppression which you endure;
The broken promises, failings and shortfalls;
I recognize the enormous work and journey ahead;
I see the repulse and self defeatist attitude occasioned
By broken hopes and aspirations;
I recognize the seasons and reasons for the youths failure to thrive,
In the face of hydra-headed battles confronting them daily
When I Google you,
I recognize the unmistakable hurdles, shuttles and scuttles;
The suppressed emotions, emissions, missions, visions, and vanquished voices of the voiceless,
The brazen helplessness, hopelessness and long worn faces
Of countless array of seen and unseen battles;
The dwarfed armory of opportunities occasioned by lack of vision, mission, emotions to thrive, ride and drive
But,
I can also envision:
The salient, but countless, unspeakable and unquenchable determination and desire in you;
The urge, surge, splurge, hidden treasures, pleasures, possibilities and the unheralded hope and abilities in humanity!
september slips in
as asters wave in the breeze . . .
farewell to summer
october’s crisp days
mountains’ gold and crimson blaze . . .
my marveling gaze
november’s wind wails
a lone leaf scuttles away . . .
the fall’s first snow flake
the abandoned shack looks miserable and forlorn
standing amid brambles and weeds in an unkempt field
her porch boards creak ominously as we walk across them
Some of the end boards have disintegrated
she looks sad and gloomy; her front door is gone
she has not been cared for in a number of years
the upstairs windows are broken probably by rocks
her kitchen has been stripped of appliances
wires hang where her oven used to be
the floor is brighter next to these wires
a tiny creature scuttles across the floor
She smells like animals
She has probably been a haven for squirrels and mice
Maybe raccoons take up residence during the winter
Do you want to go upstairs? My girlfriend asks
I shake my head “no” not wanting to see any more
I sit in the warm sand and watch as the sun slides down the sky.
From bright to dark, stark to muted, bleached, coloured, black. The dark shadows marched across the beautiful landscape to destinations unknown.
The fierce glaring sun touches and finally slips below the horizon, and the world changes gear. For in the inky pools, there is movement; The furtive rustling of small creatures all around.
The burning daylight heat dissipates while the air smells hot. The stars twinkle above, the cooling night breeze sweeps passed with a calming whisper, and a scorpion scuttles noiselessly by my outstretched leg.
The night-time world is alive.
Now, the sacred land is owned by the new crew until the morning sun signals the slow reversal.
Cosmic Fruit or Anyway the wind blows
I thought one day I shall not
It is as fast as a bullet and as fair as there-fore I am
When soft haze scuttles a quiet bay at no time to unwind
I said I'd be your King not just for a day
I saw the proof in the look in your eyes
The daylight was never so bright
We can never be something we never was
Burning desires and raging camp fires the curse of falling in love
We can always make it our world
But it will never be our Universe
To now know anti-matter exists does that matter
Is it the perfect ticket to an immortal paradise
Types of fall
We all taste the physical one
After Earth’s Gravity has won,
With zest we rush at the fallen,
No big deal there, so no stalling
“You’re okay! Please, don’t mind the slip”
That is: if uninjured one’s hip;
Victim, Helper back on their feet:
More miles to deal with by the feet
Hundred times worse fall from some peak,
Climbers luckiest scar: a bad streak;
I tell you time for ambulance,
Where one shall have to first balance…
For First Aid or treatment proper:
Anything that might save dropper…
As much we’d see the other fall,
When feuding failure makes a call
And so badly hits one’s image
One scuttles off to one’s village
For a life more indoors than outdoors,
Still, at night moving on all fours…
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
salt crusted fish bone
caught within tangled seaweed...
high tide offering
hermit crab scuttles
erratically on sand...
waving eyes on stalks
opened mouthed seashells
coated with wind driven sand...
change in the weather
22 September 2022
syllable counter... poetry soup
Oh, how we watch a town go by!
Pieces of life
wrapped against the elements,
going somewhere,
always going somewhere.
From this upper window,
my eye is a searchlight,
sweeping the streetscape.
I celebrate my stillness
by remaining still,
stiller,
and stiller still,
holding my breath,
stilling my eyes till they sting.
I will my stillness
to fill me, envelop me,
hold me still from within and without,
a force pushing out and in,
creating an equilibrium for my soul.
And still the life below
scurries, scampers,
scuttles, skitters,
fizzes, bubbles, lives,
the quick and undead,
each destined
to be still one day.
(September 2021)
barefoot in the sand
waves gently lapping the shore -
a crab scuttles by
6/28/21
HIDE AND SEEK
The siren wails its warning once again,
Hitler’s bombers droning overhead.
Unrelenting, seven days a week,
Incendiaries falling all around.
Mother makes a game of it,
“Let’s play hide and seek;
In the cupboard underneath the stairs
No-one can reach us here.”
Snug and warm, cocooned in Mother’s love,
Oblivious to the danger in the sky.
But even Mother’s love can’t quench the fear
When a spider scuttles down the wall.
5th June 2021
A Tender Moment From Childhood contest
Sponsor - Malabika Ray Choudhury
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