Short Devil May Care Poems

on a beetling cliff, 
he stands, peeking over the... 
abyss of danger



Date written: 01/12/2020...

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Dapper Dan was a devil-may-care
  His favorite game was 'Shark-Pit'
Bought a roller-coaster with his money
  In hedge funds and junk bonds he parked it...

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It's the year two thousand and sixteen
Many years since I was a rambunctious teen
With slicked down hair
It was devil may care
Surrounded by young fillies so peachy keen...

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A dagger to the heart.
Warmred oozes down his chest.
He slumps.
No pain, pleasure instead,
His heart now a hollow shell,
He is man.
Capable of Love or Hate,
He chooses neither.
The embodiment of devil may care.
This is how the devil died and I was born....

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whistling past a graveyard
Devil may care, but I have no regard

I walk among granite tombstones
six feet below are boxes full of bones

I find myself in a dark, dark room
only to realize it's a witch's tomb

gravedigger has bodies to retrieve
on this night, Saint Hollow's Eve...

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God staged a Mount Sodom assault
On a wife whom once dared to halt*
Her husband said, "Whew!  
What else could He do?
I'm hungry, so please pass the salt!"

* The hallmark of  Western religions
is God and Lot's "Devil-may-care" 
attitude toward a "nameless" wife's
concern for the welfare of her daughters!...

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They cover your soles
your heels
and your toes
and they render you dressed
when your ankles are exposed
your shoes can stride forth
with an elegant air
and your turn-ups can flap
with a devil-may-care 
‘cause your feet are now swaddled
in a pair of pure wool
and are identically matched
in a delicate blue
with a column of ducks....

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Gasping he sucked in deep
To breathe after made his survival complete
The wave rolled on and left him there
Riding the waves made it devil may care

The sun warmed him lying on his board
Another tick off the bucket list was scored
As he paddled to the distant shoreline
Feeling great and ready for the next item he’d find.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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A-nother breath of fresh air, 
N-ot the same old skway; 
N-either the past nightmare, 
E-ndorse a new break of day.

P-repare for a real change, 
A-pproach that won't get worn; 
L-et it feel well and good
O-ctober tenth early morn.
M-ake an imaginative switch, not the one devil-may-care; 
A-lllow the breeze to whisper another breath of fresh air....

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Let us waltz in the moonlight
where the scatter bugs bleep
there we shall twinkle
and occasionally leap.

For are we not nice.
cheesy as Gruyère,
vim full of chuckles
and devil-may-care,
and if you being dinky
do never not mind
we are thin in the front
and fat behind.

Elastic,
and orgiastic
we will blitz out on cherries
lips so juicy and red.
footing drunkenly sideways,
and so, to bed. 
...

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A knotted Tarzan rope dangles
From the same sycamore tree limb
When I was a young, snot-nosed,
devil-may-care adolescent.
Nothing has really changed that much
Since my time: the same swimming hole,
Probably the same railroad spikes
That I hammered into the trunk
That we used as rungs to scale it.
But it’s a very lonely place
today. All my childhood buddies
Are either dead or too infirmed
To care; so here I stand alone
Willing, but no one to play with....

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A-s time is on the run, 
D-o it as fast as you can; 
E-arlier than later in a day, 
L-et your work be swiftly done.
M-ake it quick but sure, not in devil-may-care manner; 
A-ttitude that is so reckless may result to more disorder.

O-n the run is the time, 
C-alling you to wake up; 
T-hirtieth September morn
A-llows you not to stop.
V-isualize the break of dawn, as well as the rising sun; 
O-pen your eyes to the end, as time is on the run....

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Devil-may-care touches
sliding along my chest.
To my heart he clutches'
it's there he's made his nest.
The awkward beat of this dance,
the beating of my heart.
More than just a passing glance,
the two will never part.
The grip grows tighter
until I no longer feel,
my body grows lighter,
throat closes, ending this spiel.
The end of the road awaits,
it grows near with my fading soul.
The result of our intertwined fates
culiminating, making us whole....

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A hankerin’
an unscratched itch 
which one doesn’t wish to scratch for one
a need for heat and warmth
a turnstile dreamer ushers night to morn.

A what the hell
why not devil may care
for who else does?
The siren calls Ulysses to her gate.

Flower scents surmount
the desert dryness of aging heroines.
Lotharios play grinding tic tac and toes
searching for the golden fleece.

And neither Heaven nor Hell 
concerns themselves
with such mundane matters....

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