Short Needled Poems

A cactus survives
upon a painted desert,
a needled fortress....

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snow-capped trees weigh down

roots hold council’s needled hope –

trinkets hang from twigs 


12th November 2020...

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Needled and Twiddled

Have anyone to death you apparently needled?
Until thumbs were worn after being twiddled.
Wow. Jim Horn...

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Those words bruised my soul
strummed my mysterious heart 
with needled fingers 
scrubbed my deluded mind
stranded me, in a deep mire
.
-Saeeda©...

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A knitted quilt lays on my bed's divan
Needled by Grandma, generations ago
Its wool fiber pliant and wide enough
To keep the family cuddled in bonfire eves
Sheltering me now, her heirloom's gift.



C T Contest: Wool
Jan 17, 2016...

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when I was young 
I went to sea
I met a pelican
she needled me

when I was brave
I  went to field
I saw my shadow
she turned to me

When I was lost
I journeyed within
I found a love
she sang with me

when I was tired
I sat me down
I left this house
she carried me...

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In sleep, 
the clear hose is a needled razors eye and it is draining!
In my dream,
it is ten feet long, black polish, it is the start of our song.

Emo steps out from, his mirror, the two alone, smiling
together, waxed hard, 
out of sight, inside the darkest part of the mirror....

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The rusted latch cuts chewed finger tips.
Pryed open, needled jabbed emotions lay inside.
Grab the peanut butter crackered hugs,
Nurture  the starved soul.
Chocolate kissed squares await to be devoured.
Sip bottled water enhanced with "I love you`s".
Replenish the survival kit for lifes next survivor.
Lock it tight .
Don`t lose the key.
You may be back with company....

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Millennium Park
a reclaimed landfill
once succumbed
to the deafening shriek
of sea gulls and bulldozers.
Now a rolling hill
gazing down on the skyline
of The City of Boston.
A blanket of greenery
laid over a once open sore
inviting the weary
to sit, to succumb
to the blissful stillness
as the wind sings
in the long-needled pines.


John G. Lawless
©2/22/2022...

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The color fades from black to gray
but while i sit the needled play.
The junkies, human monkeys, in mass array
seek their new ways to get off today.
Some head to the mall to praise their corporate gods.
While others seek seek sex with any living broads.
The rest are all wrecks that need to be used.
The weak seek the strong, a need to be abused.
The filth parade of human waste
all have a drug and they need the taste....

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Remembrances  tightly sealed in an old 
Victorian trunk, cast off-- how we escaped 
from a voodoo doll needled, chained – its  button eyes 
plucked from a sorceress' wicked incantations,
leaving traces of Grandma’s unknown lunacy—

though we moved away, that ragged hem , torn limbs
of a puppet, still stabs me when full of moon drowns me.



Oct 25, 2017
6 TO 8 Contest hosted by Nette Onclaud
Theme--Rag Doll...

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My beginnings were ever so humble
To this day I wear others' rags
I'm bungled, fumbled and tumbled
My owner usually brags
Diamonds all shapes and sizes
Multicolored rainbows and rings
Always loved and needled
And thrown on kings and queens
You can buy me at a boutique
If I'm given I'm normally at my peak 
In the summer I go on the lam 
Please tell me what I am.




challenge from Linda (Poet Destroyer)
anyone can answer please,feel free...

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A photograph of us: we are blushing
in your bathroom mirror, your body wrapped
around mine. A blanket. A tattoo
needled in. Your beaming chin in my hair. 
You, promising marital bliss. 
How could you be so lovely?

A photograph of us: 106 miles apart. 
Me, wrapped in fading amaranth sheets that now 
call to mind evisceration. 
You, ripping up wilting notes I wrote to you
til their worthlessness disgusts you. 
How could you?...

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I skip one stone across the pond,
an oblate onyx dotting i's
in footles of a vagabond
who tiptoes after tiger eyes.

Perhaps the ripples left behind
are teary runes of gray moonstone
by starry sapphires once declined
for poesies of chalcedone.

In unison do pines recite
around the swaying cellophane
with spruce in verses malachite
on tawny-needled counterpane.

Soon aloe waters recompose
an epilogue of silent prose.


11/5/17
Image #1...

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My Truth


I am an original
My body, my diary,
my totem temple,
a living portrait
frozen in time.

Black ink flows as fluidly
as the lineage in my vein.
Every line, every curve
roams my ivory plane.

I cannot bow down
nor demur, I have
bared my soul indelibly.
My poetry in flesh.

Needled into skin
__love-erotic therapy.
Pain is my sacrifice
and I will bleed for
my truth.

related link:
http://thearyan.com/category/poem/#.Uw9WpPmeB3Y...

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