Short Cutters Poems

salt shakers galore 
table doilies silverware 
cookie cutters plates...

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bolts of lightning flash...

  mighty oaks split in seconds

    ~ nature's gem-cutters...

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soundbyte politics
mitre box propaganda
angles distorted
Peter Principal vitae
all cutters from rotten cloth...

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kids eager to help
assorted cookie cutters
christmas taking shape



AP: Honorable Mention 2021

Posted on June 7, 2018...

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workers sans respite 
diligent leaf cutters ants ~
stripping bare a tree




Date written: 03/07/2022...

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Slit skin
Blue vein
Silence in a room shut in
Cutters pain
Mercy for an end
Over and over again
End just to begin
Angels and bloodstains
Heaven's trade in
One dying wish

-e.g....

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I get up at sun rise daily
Ready for garden work
A hoe on my shoulder
Cutters and rake in my hands
And gum boots in my feet
But with Goliath at the gate
The courtyard I cannot leave
And hunger is my daily bread...

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Santa Claus did not dare yell, wiggle, move or shout.
Kicking his feet over and over in convoluted pain. 
Reindeer heard and ran in to helpfully pull him out.
Now he carries glass cutters to open a client’s window pane....

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Someday. In old age.
My well-being will be in the hands of: 
Underpaid cutters and x-addicts 
serial texters and sadists
tide pod eaters-assorted derelicts
the odd minister, 
lost Christmas carolers...

I pray to remain somewhat fit....

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Most welcome raza come here
Refugees,I invite you in belarus
We will give you wire cutters
You just have to cut the wires
There are no rules in dirty politics
Cross the border and go into Poland
Save your lives or freeze to death...
Note.Dalta rasha immigrants mala rauwra....

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Eco-locating dreams of a wounded me

Rejected by the fins cutters of bloody Reality

I had strong arms but could not walk

on powdered carcasses of my friends' hopes

they had only gills...lungs “saved” me...

drifting on a dry land with no melody...


copyright@iolandascripca2012...

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They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.

Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for her audience.

Haute couture or haute cuisine, 
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine....

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They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.

Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for her audience.

Haute couture or haute cuisine 
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine....

Read More

They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.

Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for the Features Ed.

Haute couture or haute cuisine 
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine!...

Read More

They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.

Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for the Features Ed.

Haute couture or haute cuisine 
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine!...

Read More

They ply themselves to sculpting,
to fingernails and foie-gras,
those crafty cutters, carving, trimming.

Creations to delight the senses,
a dab of blush or sauce bearnaise,
a final glance, she's ready for the Features Ed.

Haute couture or haute cuisine 
they'll grace a page
in any food or fashion magazine!...

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Tell me why, but tell me True-
Spare me the heartbreak of a Lie
I would lay forever in these meadows...
Forever, until I die!
To rid myself of all the Pain,
And the Sorrows of what I feel
To ease my Mind, my worried Brain
(Lord! The Cuts! I need to heal)

*Referring to my problems with "Borderline Personality Disorder"; many of us are "cutters"...

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I was never meant to be,
a happy loving kid.
Im supposed to be the kind of person,
you never wished,
to be.
But lately,
Ive been doing good,
no more cutting, no more loss,
just me, you and him.
But now I've lost her,
and she will be forever gone.
Abandoning me,
In a lifes misery of love.
So why can i not condemn myself to my cutters cry?...

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Why do we long to conform to a defined ideal?
And why is that ideal so stagnant and predictable?
The patchwork quilt holds many more stories than the plain sheet
And yet a celebrity will die trying to maintain an image
How do we truly treasure the creative, entertaining snags that only visit on rare occasions?
Let’s bend the cookie cutters a bit....

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The candles sometimes drop their flames;
The lions lose their tails.
The stars come out all crooked;
Some ineptitude prevails.

The wine jugs might have missing tops;
The dreidels look all right.
The flaws won’t matter, hopefully,
When loved ones take a bite.

For Chanukah’s the time when I
Roll out that dough and bake,
My grandma’s cookie cutters
And her recipe at stake....

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Here we are
at the freak show
Depressed
Losing hope
Outspoken
What you would call a freak
Doing tricks for your entertainment
In the freak show
you will not see what you expected to see
Lonely
Hurting
But your blind
unable to see there pain
Here we are
at the freak show
you'll see
Cutters
Suicidal teens
plus more
you'll see things
you haven't seen before
Here
At the freak show...

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placing a pen upon the desk
aligned with paper
grooves of wood and knots in stain
as if absorbed in thought and mind
they seep from below 
as if the stars there influence a blueprint
of aeroplanes 
of vision
or easel's frames direct the brush
that strokes 
pushing colour
pushing shade
and crystal imperfections
guiding a cutters tool
of life and all it throws
I remain the asked man


...

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Few and far between doggerel delights
Google gets it with sesquipedalian surprise
Forgive and forget gift of the gab
The sweet spot isn't always wizardry with words
So vis-a-vis what's tried and true
Is sharing something that's unique to you
Cookie cutters have never moved mountains

Checked with rhyme zone and syllable counter
Alliterisen Poetry Contest
2nd May 2023
Sponsored by: Joseph May...

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The neck pain was singled 
out. Roll yourself down?
from the hills. The
figures were crying.

You cannot dismiss 
the infamous past tense.
The butchered birthday?
of freedom of speech.

The underpaid stone cutters
of the quarry, and the
golddiggers crowding the street.
Whom will you give your hand ?

In glass, the progeny-
grows, away from home,
from inheritance.
I stare in disbelief, unblinking.



Satish Verma...

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Emotionless wrist cutters scream in chaos.
I spit black horror in their stupid faces.
Sycophantic bastards burn in the flaming pits of hell.
But me I break spines and hearts in equal measure.
Brittle bones splinter in both directions.
A lack of brains paints me sombre.
If all of creation is against us, then why do we carry on existing.
Right-sided circles exude nothing but calm.
Whilst left handed doorways smash our faces in....

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