Short Hunchback Poems

Disfigured hunchback
Whose only friends were the bells
'Til Esmerelda...

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With a rhythmic spell,
Quasimodo sounds his bell
In his tortured hell,
Esmeralda hears him yell
From his hunchback prison cell....

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What did we see

disfigured hunchback
then a butterfly flits by ~
God in-dwells both forms

13-September-2022...

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The hunchbacked man once asked God:
Why didn't you turn your face to me  Lord?
But God answered  the man:
When I looked down at your clan,
 I saw your back turn to me like a gourd....

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Amongst idle clouds tis by
stealthy through labyrinth sky.
Voyaging ships crowd caught sight
hunchback whales' rare eyes delight.

Steel blue wind-driven waves rise;
playground for three gray whales’ cries.
They breach, slap the cold waters
delight, rough surface shatters.


3/7/2019...

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The Hunchback so anxiously waiting to not be seen by the crowded crowd in limousines. He softly covers his eyes and tries to cover his back with a cape of disguise. A young kid yells, “ hey I see The Hunchback” recognizing his shape that does not lack. So many people run in great multitudes but poor oh Hunchback cries in solitude. God Bless!...

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Hunchback of Notre Dame
Up in his bell tower hideout
Recluse guardian of
The most famous cathedral
Through all ages
Parisian landmark
Immortalized in world literature
Heart of harrowing drama
What's left of his undying love 
For his beautiful Esmeralda



Submitted on April 18, 2019 for contest NOTRE DAME IN THE NEWS sponsored by KIM RODRIGUES  -  HONORABLE MENTION...

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Daddy's shoulders were burned by the sun
as he plowed wheat fields one by one
All his hopes seeded in the soil
His labor fed us with all his toil
Noon would come - he would find a tree
Take his hunchback pail...a moment free
The tractors roar was fierce and strong
He rode it all the daylight long.
He now plows heaven's fields on John Deere
I hear that motor loud and clear...

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To venture to die 
that clever answer 
is buried secrets
Closer to never 
with a fever
that circle turned purple
Golden rings on your ears
Puffing the pillows
around your head
Puffing the smoke rings 
A hunchback rings the bells
The venture to die
teardrops shaped like diamonds 
cutting your eyes
I hear you screaming
Your hair is turning colors
every strand in graveyard silence...

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Night scribbly 
Stupid head 
Blind Anformation Um. Not Blind. Yes. 
Thought process - Man? 
Banana Mouth sail boat. w in this googet dinosaur. PacMan. Lizard. 
I saw a man Crab. woman chatting of an Now I understand why 
sipping wire. A' these artists are so some ominous hunchback crazy - They're trying lady but ??? What does to make sense of I 
the nonsensically, there are no answers!! 
it mean?!!...

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It's not easy being the one who's never ready
while you lay, open,
naked of mind and soul,
chest split for easy reach.

I carve myself
a large canyon wound
through my middle.

I slide in a hand
and feel around for the answer
a selfish little demon
a skittish hunchback
a veracious loner
some self-destructive cog

After long nights
of careful disection,
still no answers are found,
only organs
older than myself....

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Embrace the hurt of denial,
Wear the face of notredam,
Hunchback and face that,
Only religion can calm,
Ugly has its benefit and I share that inside,
Might as well run around pants down,
No pride,
The mark of jesus comes with slaves robes,
Humble your look or lose a soul.
Now that I have faced the ways of man,
It's standards I want to keep and,
Woah nature moves with me,
Did you see that?
No.... You didn't.
Because my name and our eyes have been given....

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Graveyard silence To venture to die that clever answer is buried secrets
Closer to never with a fever that circle turned purple 
Golden rings on you lips 
puffing pillows around your head 
its time for breakfast in bed 
Puffing the smoke rings 
a hunchback rings the bells 
The venture to die 
teardrops shaped like diamonds cutting your eyes 
I hear you screaming
your hair is turning colors 
and I am counting every strand in graveyard silence 
the soul is a sail....

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In the shell lies the eye of a dark sea
I call for a boat in delirium.
Waves drown the hunger of a climax.
I do not know where all the gulls have gone?

Time slips like flesh between the knuckles
and an extra pain of your separation.
I am shipwrecked on the slopes of whispers
and don’t want to have a second death.

Looking back at the years
as a sentence in exile,
I never reached the home.
Ultimately you need the hunchback to
climb the stairs.


SATISH VERMA...

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