Short Matted Poems

rabbits in the rain
matted fur and wet berries
A bad hare day

John G. Lawless
4/22/2020...

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The local laundry laundering matted lifted let in solid soiled linens~


12/28/29
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr...

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matted furball fluff
ears ragged, tail disheveled
shaved to summer 'do

now look so skinny -
slick, girly, all clean and white
hardly know it's you...

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Matted, framed, feathered and tarred
On display, I am permanently scarred.
No misunderstanding or optical illusion
My gallery heart begs for love’s intrusion....

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Your sad eyes made their piercing plea
in a forlorn moment of humble reverie
I stroked your matted fur so willingly
and cradled you as you licked my face gratefully.



Written on 4/17/2017...

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Golden Outbursts


Honeyed
Pathways shimmer
Matted Maple forests'
Flaking golden outbursts entice
Strolling


FIRST
October22, 2015
Contest: Autumn Stroll Cinquain Form
Sponsor: Eve Roper...

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A kitten
Living in a discarded box
November
grease covers his pink paws.
Under my sister's deck.

I stood shivering
on the permafrost.

So thin
fur matted from the dirt
Remember
a bus ride home.
hiding under my coat....

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A toothless old man 
Smiled at me today,
His smile was gummy
And he had matted hair of grey
His clothes were torn and tattered 
All that be as it may
To me, all that mattered
Was the smile he gave to me
As he passed me on his way!...

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breathing in and out
the slow and fast ebb and flow
of love scene imparts
plethora of stars o’er beach
her long wet hair matted, loose

2/19/2020
Let the Pens Flow - Tanka Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jenish Somadas...

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I use to have a paper doll,
once upon a time.
She had bubble gum matted hair
and veins filled with turpentine.

Her dress was sequenced Percocet,
that went passed her knees.
She spent her time smoking cigarettes,
to medicate her anxiety....

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One score,
And two for the Lord's of War
On plinths of blunt steel disregard
In parks and squares

Tonight we feast on death's
Camera pictures
In broken frames

Lest we tweak the matted curtains
That shale the paved echoed steps beyond our door

The world at War...

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Crazy, Psycho, Mad,
Craziest we have ever had,
Tall hat,
Matted hair like a rat,
Speakes in riddles,
With everything he fiddles,
Hands constantly moving,
Brain fast-moving,
Tea's his fav,
About everything he'll rave,
Why is a raven like a writing desk?...

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Rising tall
in the thicket,
cresting with
force nestled
behind matted
fur and eight
fresh gashes
scabbing
firm,
the elder
intimidates
with rattling
force only
guttural
pronouncements
designed to
instill fear

or 
spark
resolve,
pivoting
an element
of battle that
shatters poise....

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His rainment bleak
   Snarls of hair matted
Bloated shoes mud-streaked
   Wisps of hair unhatted

Muttered imprecations
   Hiding teeth jagged
A bedraggled skeleton
   Cursing Nature, near-ragged

Those with golden locks
   and eyes of deep blue 
Face the mirror squarely
   Could his image have been you?...

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Weighed down by it’s skin
Pelt heavy, it sat.
Loneliness whittled it thin
T’was called the spotted cat

A mistake from long ago
Left it wounded and hurt
Now lives life on the lay low
Blood mixed with the dirt

Its fur was quite matted
Patchy it still was
Skills fallen out of habit
Closed eyes, tired paws....

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A desolate trekker who walks undauntedly, 
Truth moves slowly but surefootedly
Through matted crowds of lies,
Ever stung by lethal fangs of vice. 

Her trek through moistureless terrains 
Unperturbedly winds on amidst pains;
Outnumbered by loathing children of gloom,
Till the coming of Diablo’s definite doom.
...

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make me think you
them swingin' moods
send me to a place
I don't want to be 
me
those swingin' moods
are still hot June nights
your hair matted to
your brow
send me to that place
when I loved
crazily 
lazily 
when the music evaporated
into star specked skies
endlessly
like my memories
them swingin' moods...

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Shadow's Dark Apparel

My shadow wears
A slaw sunlight rain falls
cloak’s darkness
raincoat
His hair is like matted cotton
hair as natural as a desert bush
my shadow is a cotton field
being rain on moist sticky
gummy blooms bushy
pearl white as the clouds

10/27/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©...

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The mask's that unmask unbridled seems of gold
All wrapped in sullen shrouds of matted purple 
Manifest my dreams driven by engines with plumes of wantoned steam
Following the piston leader score there sleeves in disbelief
1, 2, 3, 4 mesmerized by the coal that glow morphing into embers
Till not a solitary soul can remember...

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Soup kitchens,
holed shoes, torned pocket

Shared bed,
stenched wall, damped floor

City siren,
whispering ally, neon glare

Brown bag,
trembling hand, goosed skin

Silked lined crombie,
blackened nails, matted hair

Stray dog,
molded bread, scavanged bin
 
Lost lust,
torn soul, wretched hope

Dedicated to "Boxcar Brian"...

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Snow fell in dollops, in kite like laziness
too wet to stay white except in the margins.
The contrary air kisses each flake
melting each heart of ice.
Bittersweet the temperature falls.
Teardrops cling to greedy braches
reminiscent of hand stitched jewels
on a queen's gown.
The matted margin of lingering grass
crisps like spun sugar
snow flakes on the lash of night....

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Ratty cat, ratty cat,
old and alone,
sitting on a wood pile,
making it his own..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
listening and wondering.
Why has the sky grown dark?
Could that be thundering?
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
here comes the rain..
Fur now soaking wet thru an
orange matted mane..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
drenched as can be.
Are you waiting there for
a free meal from me?...

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meek, this hour
of a morning hue
shy cobweb gloss
in a frosted dew

he stood as shrubs
nay merged with trees
but matted hair
instead of leaves

though leaves a few
were woven in
a tempered bark-
like wear of skin

yet fleeting foul
and a peasant’s ploy
their rancid goad
to wheat destroy

in crop and fold
of furrowed fell
lest he be The 
Mowing Devil


...

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<

He always sits at the same corner
with a cardboard sign" Hungry, please help".
He won't quite meet my eyes, but
despair is written in the lines around his mouth,
in his beaten posture, and in his matted hair.

I hand him his lunch and see tears
swimming in his eyes. He knows, and I know, 
that this is a temporary fix-
tomorrow he will be hungry again.

 ...

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.

                                            Dirty wet diaper
                               Sores, scabs, matted hair, crying
                                           Lady adopts_mom


Contest:"Senryu For Mom"
Sponsor:Francine Roberts



(My mother said that
when she first saw me
I had a dirty wet diaper
sores, and backed up against
her and called her mom.)...

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