Short Blotches Poems

Stretch mark clouds
blotches towards
a carmine spreading sun...

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distorted blotches
jaguar running straight toward me
i have no chance

frozen in place
i do not live to tell of
wild cat attack...

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Blaggard blaming the blond bloke for his blight:
Blablabla, bluster and bleat, blathering
Blob, your blue blood bleeds blotches on a black
Blossom. Blaspheme, blabber—I blast your bluff....

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and so there, this world
with the trauma and troubles
while out I saw upon the path
blotches and spatters 
of lichen 
I know, right
it was like walking 
on the back 
of a giant negative Dalmatian...

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late
afternoon~
reading
white
ink
blotches
in
the
sky



AP: Honorable Mention 2022

Submitted for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE 10 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  Honorable Mention

Posted on December 13, 2019...

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This pan just won't do,
As you can see it's dirty,
Put it through the wash.

Can water purge grease,
Not hot or cold but scalding,
Enough to sear flesh.

Unwanted blotches,
And all things original,
Are not fit for kings....

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late afternoon
reading white ink blotches
in the sky



AP: Honorable Mention 2022

Submitted on July 3, 2022 for contest THE SKY IN JULY sponsored by ANDREA DIETRICH  -  RANKED 1ST

Originally posted on September 28, 2018...

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Shyness
An asset or a curse?
I wear it on my cheeks in the form of pink blotches

Shyness
Something to revere or overcome?
I keep my voice silent, while loud angry ones speak

Shyness
Does it have to do with personality or self-worth?
I ask myself this question internally, keeping quiet....

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• Don't be shy
• Have a bite
• You're new here
• So it's only right
• Bare your fangs
• Sink them in
• Pay no mind to the blotches on the skin
• Feel free to taste the blood drawn
• It's good for the undead soul
• Take your time when chewing
• Don't swallow the bones whole...

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Blotches and splotches,
Pink and red
Don't dare scratch:
It'll spread

Treat with loathsome liniments
And soporific pills,
But there's not a real cure:
Must suffer the ills

Watch out for pointy leaves
Grouped together, numbering three
Do your best to avoid it:
Poison ivy—the devil's weed...

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splotchy clouds

squeeze billions of

raindrops

from a blemished

sky bruised with purplish

charcoal grey

blotches

as lightning

flashes

and thunder

accost the

the face of heaven

summoning the mournful

tears
 
of weeping angels


(Yalto)


07,16,2019...

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Boomers from here to anon,
What turned us all on?
Our blue jeans of love,
Marched for peaceful doves,
Sun baking for brown.
Skin blotches do cast frown,
Our denim survives, 
Silvers staying alive,
So far, so good, I'm stating,
Freckles still proliferating,
Feeling young never grows old, 
We're boomers, do be told!...

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Listen to poem:

'The Man in the Moon
Came down too soon,
defaced by space race
and telescoped stares.

The Moon face and myths unmasked
to reveal mere pockmarks and dark blotches.

What is more, Man on the Moon
has scarred the Moon's face forever 
with humanoid stares, enlightenment, 
footprints, flags, graffiti and junk.

For Heaven's sake, let it be....

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blotches 
of green velvet 
in grey crags
soft 
tender 
patches 
embeded
in severe stone

rock love

it may roll
but it rolls
with them
it may freeze
but they don't 
leave

indifferent 
as a boulder
can be
they 
still cling

without him
they wouldn't be

inanimate granite
something
to hang onto
that will never leave
what more
could lichen
need...

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My head, now a boiling cauldron
From my pen, thoughts bleed red, 
in a broken stream muddled up  
They do not have a neat flow
They come out in squirts,
leaving scarlet stains,
a monochrome of blotches of hurt and sadness
Still I feel such instant relief,
as the latch of a cage being unfastened
to let out the birds of pain fly far

March.9. 2022
New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France...

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The dress that you gave me
My favourite one, hangs in my closet
Next to none, I have outgrown the colours
Hanging on to the memories hidden in its folds.

The smell of you and me
Washing out the blotches of the past
Trying to Iron out the creases 
From each and every line.

How easy life would have been
Had relationships been like clothes
If we could change them each day
Wiping out all you said and never understood.

31.11.2020...

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Paint me as I am
Blemishes, blotches, scars on my skin
Warts and all
Yellow teeth, my head going bald
Paint me fat if that I be
Paint the true image of me

For if friends do see
A portrait of a man as perfect as he can be
They will inquire of me
Who the gentleman on my wall may be

So paint me as I am
Let every detail show
So this painting will be of me
And all my friends will know
I have nothing I am ashamed to let other see
Nothing I am ashamed of about me...

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Listen to poem:

Age gnarls, weather beats skin to flaky dryness. 
Wrinkles and lines, furrows, knots and blotches
Twist and contort the skin of babies and youths
to a knurled, rough, compliant easy to grip surface.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
Despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls and grumbles,
Can be gripped, manipulated and convinced to comply and yield.
For now there is little else to lose, little else to try anew.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to yield....

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Listen to poem:

Look at the clouds in the sky above
Puffy, vaporous, fluffy stuff,
Ephemeral, illusionary, ever-changing
A moving mass, reshaping before our eyes.
Billowing blotches spreading like
ink on blotting paper, soaking in,
imbibing a recall of inward reflections
that perspective can change sides, 
change viewpoints in time and space 
near and far, old and new, 
up and down, side to side, 
rocking to and fro,
for the spell of clouds lies
in their illusions, 
on which we dwell....

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